THE GOOD OLE DAYS

Daddy bought the farm, he told us tall tales about camping, and fishing in the river. We were excited, but he failed to tell us when this might happen. Living in the farm house was like camping, especially with the outhouse. The only time we got to go to the river was to wash the tobacco poison off, we used arsenic of lead and Paris Green mixed with corn meal for bud worms. Grady Snow was a share cropper, he put the big hill in corn with a mule, I would follow him as he plowed with a Syracuse plow and later with a double shovel. Daddy and I started milking nine cows by hand, before long the milk barn was completed, and we were milking thirty five with electric milkers. Daddy had to work at AEDC running a crane, the milking was my primary job, Rodney my younger brother sometime helped, but his primary job was feeding hay to the beef cattle. The cows had to be in the pen before daylight, the cows were milked, we were cleaned up to eat breakfast, just in time to hear Lester Flat and Earl Scruggs sing Martha White before we got on the bus at 6:15. It's hard for me to be compassionate when I hear of ciber bullying, I would carry four dozen eggs for teachers, my books, a trombone, and had a girls name. We were fortunate, old timers told of living in a one room shack with a dirt floor. They had only a metal barrel for heat. Then the depression hit.

HEAD NUT