During one period, my father was unemployed for several months during the Great Depression. One of my less desirable jobs had always been to load up our toy wagon with empty containers and trash and pull the wagon up to the local garbage dump. I was embarrassed to be seen hauling trash past all the houses located along Spring Street as it merged into Valley Road near the edge of town. One day while my Dad was at home without any work, I complained to him about this order from my mother. Being a most sympathetic soul, he thought of a way I might avoid the task. The solution for him was simple. Since he needed a little exercise and had nothing else to do, he would dig a hole several feet deep in the front yard and bury the trash.
The next day he started digging a hole about four feet by four feet in size. After digging down several feet, however, he struck a few unusual stones that attracted his interest. Forgetting about the trash to be buried, he dug down further about six feet and covered the hole with boards. The next day, his project grew. He built a short ladder so that he could get down easier into the hole. But his curiosity still wasn't satisfied, so, week after week, he built a platform and then another platform as he went deeper and deeper into the hole. As he dug, he threw the dirt up from one platform to a higher platform and then made a pile in the yard. Finally, one day after digging down about 20 feet, he suddenly rushed up all his ladders and jumped quickly out of the hole. He had unexpectedly struck water. In a few days the water had risen within four feet of the top. He suddenly had a well, which in time proved to contain the best tasting water in town!
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