By Floyd McCracken
My father, John Nelson McCracken, was born March 20, 1863, the son of David and Esther McCracken, Quakers. I believe he was born in Howard County, Indiana, one of 13 children in his family.
The life into which he was born was rough. It was the life of the real pioneers of the nation who set out to conquer the swamps and clear the forests to make room for fields. There was scant chance for schooling. I believe my father achieved no more than a fourth grade education.
As soon as he was strong enough to swing an axe and to handle a ditching spade, he was at work draining the swampland his father had purchased.
During those growing-up years he suffered his full share of the accidents inevitable to such a life. Once while playing with an older brother my father tried to step on a grasshopper at the same time his brother attempted to cut the insect in two with a corn-cutting knife. The knife slashed my father's leg. Blood poisoning developed and the doctor said the limb would have to be amputated. Father declared he would not submit to loss of his leg, even though the alternative might be death. He got well.
Another time one of his older brothers threw a frozen corncob at him. The missile struck him on the right wrist, throwing the bone out of joint. It remained that way until the following winter, and during the year my father taught himself to be left-handed.
Again the brothers were throwing frozen corncobs, with the result that one hit the injured wrist and restored it to a normal condition.
That year of being left-handed made him ambidextrous to a degree seldom achieved by an individual. He could swing an axe all day long, guiding with either hand. His motions were equally accurate, regardless of whether he swung with his right or his left arm, and he was one of the best axe men I ever encountered.
In his boyhood he learned to work hard, and I never knew him to shun a job because it was difficult or tiring. He asked no special favors of life, and it gave him none.