It was Dec 1941. Pearl Harbor had occurred and we were living in El Paso, TX where my dad had been called to active duty at Ft. Bliss. He had arranged for leave to go home to IA over Christmas and we wondered whether he would get it now -- but the army told him to go ahead so we went to Leon for about ten days or so. Then a big storm came in when we were ready to start back to Texas. The roads were blocked past KC -- however, we heard over the phone that snow plows were coming thru Leon toward KC on rte 69. We waited and jumped in behind them -- I dunno, there were maybe 30 cars following the plows and by the time we tagged the end, the roads were drifting shut again. Then -- at the MO border we were met by their snow plow gang and they escorted us to well south of KC. We decided to head as straight south as we could to get out of weather trouble but we hit ice on the way into north Texas. We crept along, slipping and sliding, sometimes beyond the shoulder but we kept moving -- and then started west. As we came over the last mountains in west TX the temperature rose to about 60 degrees. I had never loved the desert SW until then but I was converted. I will never, never, never forget the beauty of that descent into El Paso and the Rio Grande valley. ... jack