Beginning with my Grandpa Ike in the early 1800's, then with my Pa (also named Ike), they wrote a collection of stories; twelve in all. They didn't give their stories any fancy titles, just Roman numbers; which they preserved in metal cylinders. My Grandpa couldn't write, so his stories were written down by my Pa; and my Pa's stories were written down by me. Well, at least until I was thirteen and was sent to live with my Aunt Molly in Springfield so I could go to school. You see, our cabin was way back in the green mountains that comprised a section of the Appalachians; tucked along the base of Granite Mountain. The only other school was across the Cumberland Gap over at Wyler's Farm, about twenty miles distance; and was grades 1 through 6. At seventeen, I graduated from Springfield High School and with the war with Japan still ongoing; I was drafted into the regular United States Army. I received a discharge from the Army in the fall of 1943, after spending ten months at the hospital in Pearl Harbor. I made my mind to go back to my Grandpa Ike's cabin which I had inherited. I had no where else to go, and I figured back at Ike's Cabin I could get their manuscripts and finish their stories. So I give you Ike's Cabin, what I call a "short story connection.."..fulfilling a promise to my Pa: to write his book.