Aunt Myrtie was my father's sister. Visiting Aunt Myrtie and Uncle Ed Faires on the old Jobe place near Scranton was like a visit to the past...cooking and heating with a wood stove, lighting with coal oil lamps, water from a cistern, killing a chicken or two for dinner (noon, of course) and whatever vegetables or fruits were growing, or had been canned and stored in the cellar.