My dad and Carl Albert were friends.  Went to the same school; grew up together.  Lifetime friends.  Carl was from Bug Tussle, Oklahoma.  We have lots of strange names of towns in our state.  Dad was from Wilburton.

Carl served as the Speaker of the House of Representatives in DC from 1971 to 1977.  But Carl was always a southeast Oklahoma boy.  Everybody called him the "Little Giant from Little Dixie."  

When I was born, (in Ft. Smith, Ark.) my mom and dad were living in Moffett, Oklahoma.  Just across the Arkansas river into Oklahoma.  Moffett flooded on a regular basis. But my folks couldn't afford anything better. (This was way back before Senator Kerr got legislation for the Kerr lock and dam system on the Arkansas river--which stopped the flooding and opened up the Mississippi River system into Oklahoma all the way to Catoosa, an inland port, near Tulsa.)

My folks were so strapped for cash that they rented out the one bedroom in their three room house.  They slept in the living area.  They probably put me in a dresser drawer?

Daddy was always good with numbers.  So when Moffett flooded once again, dad called Carl and asked if he could help dad get a job somewhere out of the flood zone.  The government was always looking for math skilled people, so Dad was hired by the IRS in Tulsa to examine and audit income tax returns. They were all done by hand back then.  Dad did returns for all of our friends and family for the rest of his life after he got a job in Pryor. 

Nobody ever thought of Carl Albert as a "somebody." He was just a friend.  If you live long enough, some day, you'll know somebody who can give you a hand--or maybe you will be that someone who can give somebody else a hand.  Good people make good friends.