Wild Times

My father would load my sister and me into his ‘52 Chevy truck, and he’d steer down the gravel road leading to the homestead where my mom was raised.

The radio played Loretta Lynn and Faron Young as the wind whipped through the cab. Dad would shift the three-on-the-tree and the 6-cylinder hummed as we headed to our destination.

We were on our way to pick blackberries.

My mother’s parents raised their six children on a homestead in the unincorporated county community of Fomby, Arkansas.

It’s ...

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Rolling In The Dough

Please forgive me, for I have become biscuit backslidden.

I’ve become lazy.

If my grandmothers and great grandmothers were still here, they’d be ashamed. They’d send me out of the kitchen to the back yard to fetch a switch.

My entire family heritage was on the line, and I’ve failed.

I have committed the ultimate Southern sin.

I’m eating canned biscuits.

Not only am I eating canned biscuits, I’m eating them as if it’s OK to be eating canned biscuits. As if it’s normal. As if ...

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A Different Toon

Nixon was in the White House and Scooby Doo was on our school lunch boxes. It was 1969. For a kid, life was good.

Those of us in Mrs. Pauley’s second-grade class at Burke Street Elementary were fairly oblivious to the tumultuous time our country was experiencing, but we were completely aware of what was on Saturday morning television. And it was great.

But, a recent scan of the Saturday morning TV dial revealed a glaring omission. Cartoons.

I mean, real cartoons. Like ...

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Getting Into The Groove

One of neatest feelings of youth was saving up enough money to buy that next record you wanted.

Yes, I said record. Vinyl. It was a circular disc, which required a record player (or turntable – depending on how fancy you wanted to sound) to be able to hear your purchase.

If you had a dollar, you could purchase the latest hit 45-rpm single for .79¢ plus tax. If you had $4.99, you could buy the latest album by your favorite artist.

Some ...

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Sew It Seams

My mom used to make our clothes. This was true for most families we knew.

It was the mid-60s, and the majority of moms stayed home. Only the dad worked. There was one income, so there weren’t a lot of extras. We had one car. We bought little and grew much of our food. Store-bought items weren’t the norm.

People who had mostly store-bought items were considered rich.

My mom had a Singer machine and Simplicity and McCall’s sewing patterns stacked high. She ...

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