Lately I've been recalling songs or bits of songs that I remember from my childhood. There are some mental images in my mind that I have no photo of and could never recreate for anyone, but they are still there, clear as ever. The church I grew up in had hardwood floors. The floors were from the boards of the original church building, and the pews had been made by the men (hence they were too tall for almost everyone else and there were wooden foot benches for many of the women who were under 5'). By the time I cam along there were carpet runners in the aisles and up front. But between the pews...pure hardwood. And when the men started tapping their feet to the music, it was like a drumbeat. This song came to mind last week while we were all fervently praying for my cousin's wife. Clint Short was a WWII vet, a German POW, who had a beautiful voice (and big feet). I can hear his heel tapping out the beat as his head bobbed and he sang this song. As a kid I often wondered if ...