As we left Ashdown, Arkansas, in my mom’s 1971 Buick Electra 225 Limited, my mom turned to my dad and asked, “Jimmy, are you sure we have enough money?”

He responded, “Well, Mary. If four hundred dollars isn’t enough to spend two weeks at Disney World, then we might as well stay home.”

It was 1973. That four hundred was to cover gas, hotels, meals, tickets to a relatively new Disney World, souvenirs, and incidentals. And it did. With some left over.

My ...

How we find what we like has changed. Not so long ago, to determine whether we enjoyed a specific musical group or movie, we did our own homework.

We didn’t go online to see what others thought of the newest music album by a popular artist or latest film by a favorite actor. There was no such thing as online. I’d doubt we’d have gone there if there had been.

We’d give a record album or film a try on our own.

Society ...

There are a few movies that have a big and lasting impact on you. For a 13-year-old kid from Ashdown, Arkansas, one of those was Jaws; the story of a great white shark that ate people off the coast of New England.

But it wasn’t just kids from southwest Arkansas who went to see that movie. For that matter, it wasn’t just kids. Everyone in the world, just about, went to see Jaws.

It was 1975, and no one had seen anything ...

I learned a lot from Scouting. Started as a Cub Scout, then joined Webelos, then the Boy Scouts.

Girls and making money took priority over my time around age 14, so I never made Eagle Scout. But what I learned up until then I still use today.

How to find a place to camp if you’re caught out in the woods. How to find fuel for and build a fire. How to forage and hunt for food. How to tie knots.

These were ...

The photo was taken quickly with little thought of its future impact. It was just one of the 36-count roll of Kodak color film that she’d bought for her vacation.

My sister was on a Colorado trip. She booked a trip on a vintage train that traveled on vintage tracks. As the conductor made a final walk of inspection, my sister leaned out a window and snapped the shot.

It was early morning. The mist of the mountain blended into the mist ...

Southerner’s are big on sopping. We like to sop our biscuits in lots of things.

There isn’t much that’s better than sopping a cathead biscuit in gravy. Especially if your mom made both.

My mother worked culinary magic in that tiny kitchen on Beech Street in Ashdown, Arkansas. She made biscuits and gravy most meals.

We learned to sop at a young age. Sopping made sure we didn’t leave a drop of country goodness on our plates.

Gravy is good, but it wasn’t the ...

About 40 years ago, my dad gave me a radio. Not just any radio. It was what’s called a farm radio.

According to Texas Co-op Power Magazine, in 1936, just three out of 100 farms had electricity. By the mid-1940’s, it was three out of 10. That still left most farm families without power.

The Philco radio my dad gave me was made around 1946 and it ran off a dry cell battery.

A dry cell battery radio was how those with no ...

If you’re a Baptist from the South, you’re hoping that the Pearly Gates pop quiz isn’t, “What’s the third verse to any song in the hymnal?”

You won’t know the answer.

If you’re laughing right now, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

In Southern churches that sing the old hymns, skipping the third verse is common.

“OK, let’s all stand. We’ll sing the first, second, and last stanzas,” said the church’s song leader.

In the little church in Ashdown, Arkansas, in which I grew ...

My grandfather called it a, “Po Boy Lunch.”

That meant we were having leftovers in whatever creative way my grandmother came up with.

Recently, I took two biscuits from breakfast and loaded them with smoked brisket, and from the garden, purple onions and jalapeños.

A little Heinz 57 topped them. Also from the garden, Roma tomatoes with sea salt.

It got me to thinking about why Southern folks like simple foods.

It’s because it’s good.

A pot of pinto beans, some sliced onion, and cornbread was ...

I don’t know if Red Goose was a real bird, but I used to love wearing her shoes. I especially loved getting them. Along with one of her golden eggs.

In Ashdown, Arkansas, Red Goose Shoes were sold at Blue Ribbon Shoe Store. It was one of thousands of shoe stores that dotted the American landscape of the mid-20th Century.

Unfortunately, shoe stores have pretty much gone the way of the buggy whip salesman.

I miss the experience of the shoe store.

Today, people ...