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by Connie Vigil Platt I had company over the holidays. I have a large extended family that will use any excuse to get together. Don’t misunderstand me I loved having them visit. They all came loaded with baskets of food and problems to share. It seems that my house is more centrally located, bigger, more available or something like that. But it reminded me of a Little Jimmie Dickens song “Sleeping at the foot of the bed:” It was always fun when the kin folks came And the kids brought brand new games You could see how fat the old folk were And learn all the babies’ names We got chicken and biscuits And custard pie We all got Sunday fed But when night time came you knew You were sleeping at the foot of the bed Fortunately nobody had to sleep at the foot of the bed but there were some strange sleeping arrangements. Chairs, love seats and couches were put into use. I have always been a collector of quilts in anticipation of such an occasion, so we had plenty of blankets. No one seemed to mind sleeping on the floor but it was wall-to-wall people, you had to be careful where you stepped if you got up in the

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