In the evenings, and when it was too snowy to do much outside, he enjoyed playing his guitar and humming the blessed old hymns he learned at his dear churchgoing mother's knee. When he was in just the right mood, he would sometimes write simple rhyming verse in one of the mostly blank ledger books he kept on hand for jotting down doings around the cabin that the boss might ask about someday. Some of them were solemn and thoughtful, but most of the poems Charlie wrote came from a deep love of fun and laughter.