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One morning in August, I canned thirty-eight quarts of green beans. That evening I went to the hospital to deliver two of the prettiest little twins you ever saw, early the next morning, August 6, 1964—one of the best days of my life.

The young doctor had never delivered twins before, and when it was over you couldn’t tell who was the father the way Doo and the Doc were shaking hands and congratulating each other.

I named one Patsy, after Patsy Cline, and the other one Peggy, after my oldest sister. They were as bright and happy as could be, and they’ve been a blessing on us ever since. They are my angels, my God-sent children. It’s been a whole second life for me and Doo. Our first kids came when we didn’t have any money, and no time to devote to them. I felt younger with the twins than I did when I was eighteen. Our two boys always said they wouldn’t accept a baby if it was a girl. But when they saw those twins, Jack claimed Patsy and Ernest claimed Peggy. It’s funny how their personalities matched just right.

We decided not to have any more kids after that, so Doolittle got his vasectomy. When they start coming in pairs it’s time to quit! But we were never sorry for a day after those babies were born. You know that record, “One’s on the Way,” where the mother is going crazy raising her babies? At the end of the song I say, “Gee, I hope it ain’t twins again.” Patsy and Peggy don’t like the song for that reason. I guess that’s why Dolly Parton is their favorite singer.

I knew I wanted to go back to singing again. Betty got married at this time, and the other kids were all busy in school. We had an older woman housekeeper, but she left when I had the twins because it was too much for her. Then we got fortunate and hired Gloria Land, who had two years of college. She’s a religious lady who took real responsibility for the babies, and now it’s almost like they’re hers. She’s not like a baby-sitter or a maid. She’s really like a mother to them. She yells at ’em, and they yell at her, but she runs the house, and we all love her like a member of the family.

In fact, when I go home, I’m more like some favorite aunt that’s visiting for a while, until the twins get used to me again. If I sit down next to Doolittle at the dinner table, they’ll give me dirty looks until I move. They’re closer to him because they see him all the time. They don’t like me moving in on their father.

The twins don’t believe I can cook, either. Gloria is a good cook—good, old-fashioned roasts with plenty of fresh vegetables. We don’t eat real fancy, just put it on the table in the kitchen and everybody eats (after the twins say the blessing). But if I ask the twins if they want me to cook, you should see the panicked look on their faces. They won’t eat my cooking, not even a sandwich or a hamburger or anything. What do they think I was doing the first eleven years I was married?

But when they were little, I was on the road. Doolittle can remember trying to wash the two of ’em at once in soapy water and being scared one of ’em was gonna slip out of his hands onto the bathroom floor. Finally he rigged up a little tub on the floor and covered the floor in towels. Later the doctor told him he wasn’t supposed to use soap anyway but baby oil instead.

Another time, Peggy got a real high fever in the middle of the night, and over the telephone the doctor said to put her in ice water. Doo put her in a tub of cold water. But when the doctor got there, he yelled at Doolittle, “I meant ice water, dammit!” And he began tossing ice cubes in the water, so she wouldn’t get brain damage from the fever. Doo said he was so shook, he just jumped in his jeep and rode around the ranch until Doc said Peggy was all right. And meanwhile, I was on the road someplace.

I take them with me sometimes. They sleep in the back of the bus with me, when I open up the two queen-sized beds. They both talk in their sleep, just like me, and they’re both kickers, too. But I like having