Growing up on a small tributary of the Current River named the Little Black, I was sheltered to say the least.
In the early 70s there wasn’t all this stuff we have now. Instead of Xbox I had a pin of beagles, some ducks I got one Easter that thought they were beagles, and cane poles for fishing in Little Black and Cypress Creek… and that was my world.
I did not know we were poor. In the summer we would take baths in the creek along with other families and it was common to just leave the bar of soap on the rock for the next person needing to clean up.
It was only until later on in life that I realized we were actually rich. Not in terms of money. No, we were rich because our roots ran deep and broad.
They’ll be some that read this and no more explaining will be necessary, they will know exactly what I’m talking about.
In my neck of the woods my grampa and his friends were local icons in and around the Flatwood township.
