Oil derricks were simply part of the scenery in the East Texas oil field back then. They're gone now, but they stand tall in memory. I remember climbing to the top of oil derricks at least twice, once with Tip and once alone. The ladder up the side of the derrick did not, of course, extend all the way down, but it was a simple matter for an agile twelve-year-old to shinny up a corner support and ease himself across the lower beam to the ladder.
The camp was our life, but in the middle of my sixth grade that world came to an end. My father was promoted, and we had to move to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where Warren was headquartered. I remember a horrible sadness as we drove out of the camp for the last time, on a March day, headed for Tulsa. I now know that life is a series of leavings, and that learning how to leave is important. That first lesson is a hard one, though.
