Lincoln “Linc” was born in his parent’s house at Dickey Lake in western Clallam County. Linc was the youngest child. He had one brother, Bryan, and four sisters: Hazel, Bessie and twins Ruby and Ruth.
 
When he was growing up he was aware that he was Indian and some of the Indian people from La Push used to come to his family’s farm at Dickey Lake. Indian women from La Push would carry clams in big baskets with a strap around their fore head and “come clear to the Sands family and trade them for spuds.” The Sands place was the only farm around.
 
“One time there was a bunch of the Indians who came up from La Push and there was an unseasonable snowstorm. The Indians didn’t think they could make it back to La Push, I guess, so they camped on our place. The women were barefooted, plodding around in that snow and they didn’t have anything to eat so we gave them food. My mother gave one of the old women who was walking around in that snow barefooted a nice pair of wool socks. The next time she saw that old woman she was barefooted again and one of the old Indian men was wearing those socks so my mother descended on him like a juney bird on a bug and got them socks off him and give them back to the woman.”
 
“Beyond the Quileute Prairie there was a place called the “little Prairie” and, boy, there used to be the most lucious delicious wild strawberries. The old women from LaPush would come and walk clear up from La Push to pick those strawberries. A wild strawberry is way better than a tame strawberry.”
 
Lincs’s grandmother, who was born in the Dungeness - Jamestown area, owned a lot of Forks Prairie land. She was half Jamestown and probably homesteaded the land with his grandfather. She donated the land that is now the Forks Cemetery.
 
Linc's dad ran what he called a”cow bell stage” from Quileute to Port Angeles. “The reason for that was he had a big cow bell with a handle welded on the back and instead of blowing a horn he would stick his hand out the side of the car and rattle that old cow bell. One time he was coming down the Fairholm hill and he was runnin’ little late to catch the ferry (Lake Crescent Ferry) I can tell you he was the world’s worst driver. He came chargin’ down that hill and on to that ferry and across the ferry and ran into the chain on the end of it, bowed the posts together and barely missed going into the lake.”
 
“Everybody had to work in those days. I could weed the garden and drive the cows home. The milk cows, when we turned them out, had almost unlimited area to roam in. When it was time to go get the cows I would go out away from the house where it was quiet and listen for the bells. Sometimes I could hear ‘em and sometimes I couldn’t because they were too far away. We had a good horse named “Topsy,” a race horse which I used to ride in races at the fair in Port Angeles.” Sometimes he would get on this horse and drive the cows home, “no bridle, no saddle, no nothin’.”
 
Lincoln T. Sands passed away in 2008.