I grew up on a farm in Michigan, I remember as a 5 yr. old getting up at dawn to go down to the neighboring strawberry farm to pick the berries for market. I'd trade my mom's homemade bread sandwiches for Wonderbread ones -what an idiot I was! I remember the winter I was 7 and my brother was 11. We disobeyed my mom and double dog dared each other all the way down to the edge of the cold, fast running, only frozen over by the banks creek on the farm. I slipped on the ice and went in, cotton padded snow suit sucked up water and I was going under for the last time. It's weird to be 7 and know you're dying. My brother managed to snag me from under the water with a branch and drag me to shore. We were covered in ice by the time we got to the house. My mom [who was pregnant with my sister at the time] screamed, cried, hugged us, swatted us then hugged us again. My brother died too young-health problems from Agent Orange- but he'll always be an eleven year old hero to me.