We were Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, riding our stick horses around the yard singing Happy Trails To You, or Gene Autry and Smiley Burnette, singing Back in the Saddle. We snacked on leftover breakfast biscuits as we played, he shooing the chickens away as they tried to snatch my biscuit out of my hand.
"Get outta here!" he yelled, stepping between me and the culprits, "Leave her alone!"
By the time Pitty Pat, and later Mary Ellen, joined us, we were Tarzan and Jane; they, "Boy" and "Cheeta." We roamed a little wooded area near our house, happening upon lions, tigers, venomous snakes, and natives of the jungle intent on boiling us alive. (He always came swinging in on a grapevine, saving us all and yelling that Tarzan yell).
Sometimes we were soldiers, fighting valiantly against Hitler and the Japanese, he jumping from being the good guy to the bad guy.
"Tat-tat-tat!" he yelled, waving his stick machine gun in the air, "Tat-tat-tat!"
He usually arrested us and took us to Hitler who sentenced us to hard time in the screened-in front porch. But it wasn't long before he charged over the hill and busted us out.