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Tanked / By Marion Forsen

My Grandpa was not a big man, but to me he was a giant. He was bald, had a big mustache and a bass voice that could belt out, "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder." He was definitely the head of the house. If you lived in his house, you did what he said. No questions.

During the Great Depression, for a short time my dad mother and I lived with my grandparents. Grandpa's farm was a great place. He and grandma lived in a six-room house, in the middle of a large green yard. A long narrow sidewalk stretched out from the east side of the house past the two fruit cellars and smokehouse. The southeast corner gate opened into the barnyard where they kept horses and mules. Between the smokehouse and the gates were clotheslines.

Grandpa was always kind and gentle to me. He played dominos with me, sang songs, gave me sips of his coffee and showed me how to "saucer and blow" to cool the coffee. One hot summer day, that kindness and gentleness was put to the test.

In the barnyard was a large cement tank filled with water. This water, from a well, was pumped into the tank by a tall windmill. The animals, horses, mules and cattle, drank from this tank. Grandpa was very particular about keeping the water clean. Slime and sediment collected on the bottom and the animals wouldn't drink it if was "riled up."

I decided I would climb into the tank and cool off. I took my shoes and socks off. I stepped into the water and walked back and forth for a while. It was so cool and nice. I held my dress up so it wouldn't get wet. No one would know I had done this forbidden thing.

My feet slipped. Down I went, clear under the surface of the water. Of course, I jumped up quickly. But there I stood dripping wet. I was very frightened and ran into the house for my mother. She cleaned me up and put dry clothes on me. She hung my wet clothes on the line and then we had a little talk.

"You have done something you were told not to do," she said. "You must tell your Grandpa what you have done. He will be very angry."

I worried the rest of the day. I thought I would surely be spanked. Grandpa had never spanked me, but my offense was pretty serious. 

Finally, he came in from the fields. He took the mules to the water tank, then into the barn where he removed their harness and gave them their feed. He came out of the barn. As he came through the gate into the back yard, I ran down the path to meet him. He picked me up and I said, "See those clothes on the clotheslines?"

He said, "Yes."

I said, "They've been in the tank."

He hugged me and laughed and carried me into the house as if nothing at all happened. He was the best grandpa in the whole world.

When I was about 11 years old I accepted Jesus as my Savior. Our little Baptist church had no baptistery.   Can you guess where I was baptized?  Yes, in the big cement tank on my grandpa's farm. It was filled with nice clean water. The whole congregation watched my second immersion in Grandpa's tank.