01 ~ Born a Morriss
 ~ They called it the Roaring Twenties, and I suppose I did my part to make it roar, for one morning on March 5, 1920, I roared into my space in the world. The dogs barked outside in our yard as Dr. Callaway, our family physician, made his way into the house on East Houston Street in Tyler, a street I would live on until the day I married and moved out on my own. A year before my birth twin sisters had come to live with my mother and dad but unfortunately they died in infancy. I felt its effect not only in the spirit of the home but also in receiving the blessing of being petted as the baby of the family. My early years were formed against this background. I had two brothers as I said, Tom and Robert, but when I was about six Robert died at the age of twelve. He was my big brother. He carried me on his shoulders to the baseball games and apparently had spoiled me. The shock was almost more than I could bear. 
~ In those days funerals were held in the home. When my brother Robert died, Dr. McNew, the pastor of the First Baptist Church of Tyler, held his funeral. I still can smell the aroma of the flowers in our living room. I remember looking at the preacher’s shoes at the brief service that was conducted at the home. Soon I was standing, lonely, beside Robert’s grave as Kodak pictures were snapped of the flowers and of me standing with my hand over my heart.
~ Perhaps this experience and the sight of my mother crying often and reading the Bible contributed to my attitude toward spiritual things. I recall that mother taught me to pray at night. “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep; if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” I never got over that, for I knew my brother had died early, and the prayer seemed to be appropriate for my well-being.