I was born in the old Bethel Deaconess Hospital in Newton, about a half hour north of Wichita. At the time, my family lived in a sweet little house my father had built for my mother. He’d winched up its concrete walls all by himself with a rope and pulley. When I was seven, we moved from the small city of Newton to a wonderful home in the country—another one of my dad’s creations—beside Sand Creek, about a mile north of town. I spent my early years roaming the fields and pastures around our place.