I used to think then that when I got older, being that preacher and what have you, I was going to have me a little farm. Not a plantation, a little farm. I could picture seeing myself plowing, my mule or on my tractor. Picture seeing a beautiful woman with my two or three kids coming out, bringing me some water to the farm where I’m working at. I don’t want her to work. I want to work for her. I want her to come up and bring me my little kids, bring me some water or a piece of pie or something. Those were my dreams, not this. Those were my dreams, but when this did start to happen, and when I started to feel for real that I could do what I was doing, the way the people treated me, I was sort of like a guest at someone’s home. I don’t want to do anything to make them not be happy that they have a guest, me.