I am from cutting down firewood in the thicket over yonder. We didn’t have no electricity back then- just a wood fire for warmth during them mean times of winter.

I am from the howler were the crick runs right through it. (Yes, we did call them streams cricks.) We had an old, creaky log cabin out in the middle of them there woods that had windows that let in cold air through the cracks. It also had a mighty creaky floor so; you could easily tell if someone got up at night.

I am from the smell of fresh apple pie baking in the oven. Man, when Ma would bring that pie out of the oven, it would be like a fox hound runnin after a poor old fox. The pie would be gone from the pan and into the stomachs of hungry folk in no time.

I am from them good old days when we’d sit out on the front porch of our cabin and play blue grass music. Pa played some mean harmonica; Ma played the fiddle like it was hot, Doodly played the banjo like it you don’t know it and me, well I played some mean jug- good lung exercise. Then, there was the fox hound who sat on the front step, scratching himself, doing his part in entertaining the random deer or two that dared to come around.

I am from goin down to the fishing pond after school each day to catch me a nice, big fish or two. I would bring it home and, Ma would fry it up to go with corn bread, plus ham hocks and lima beans- man was that a good meal!

I am from them good ol’ days when the teacher whooped you with a paddle when you got in trouble. Man, it hurt like the dickenses! You would really try to hold your voice in order to not scream like a little girl to be heard all the way back at your house by your folks. I tell ya, them were tough days to be a kid.

I am from down south. From a Jesus lovin, hard core Baptist family- never missed one Sunday of church. I am from them days when Blacks were fighting for their equal rights- I was fighting with them. I am from good times with bad stories and stories that didn’t quite get remembered.

I am from those pictures that are left there, in that dusty box, just sitting in the dark closet- forgotten by everyone else but me.