My maternal grandfather and uncle when young

Samual Augustus Dillard, Sr, was killed when my mother was 18, but I've heard so many stories about him that I feel as if I knew him. I wish I had. Standing beside him is my Uncle Archer, whom I worshipped as a child. A kind man, he took the time to listen to children and show his love. He died at age 60 of a heart attack. Both of his sons, Archer, Jr. and Dick had become doctors by then and had families of their own.

I heard this following story a few years ago from my cousin, Ann Dillard, whose father, Baylus had been driving when the drunk driver drove them off the road, killing their father. She said that her father always felt guilty, even though the accident was by no means his fault. He never took his family anywhere in a car, as a result. They lived in Belleville, across the river from St. Louis, and they took the bus or train wherever they went.