As a young boy I was exposed to a wealth of knowledge, not via the internet, books, or even while attending school. These would not have had the same prudence in my life, I was informed of great adventured through the
spoken word. My parents being the type of people they were and in accordance with the old hillbilly philosophy of a period that was all but forgotten by the time that I had reached walking age, believed that a child whom had not reached an age to actually be able to do any manual labor, had another purpose. It was to care for the old and to sit with those whom did not have relatives whom possessed the ability, or the time to attend to their needs.

This at the time was a pleasurable chore for me, it gave me an escape from the reality of my home life and also gave me a great deal of freedom. Some of my most vivid memories were that of climbing up that old clay driveway as a child, who had still not reached the age to discover the pain of getting on the bus for the first time, to visit an older man whom was known simply by the name of "Hambone", or of walking out that old gravel road to see my fathers uncles Merley and Leland. All of these men were well past retirement age before I had ever even become a twinkle in my father's eye. These men were fountains of tales of days of old, I would sit for hours and listen to the stories of rough work days, little food, and loves lost. The tales of dirt roads, foggy mornings and the mountain way, slaughtering hogs to make soap, and drinking shine to get high, and going to church to get forgiven. Their adventures as far as I am concerned were well beyond that of any western hero who rode off into the sunset.

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