Personal Narrative: My Daddy

My Daddy was an insurance salesman and our family moved every few years, always living in the South. Many towns clumped together and our stability became the culture of the South. My aunts and uncles scattered from west Tennessee to Mississippi and our yearly vacations and holidays turned into adventures in their company. Geographically, my world appeared small, but I had no idea. We swam and fished at Reelfoot Lake - muddy and full of cypress trees. Where we swam a sign read, THE BEACH - in my eyes, I was at the beach. At the spillway my Uncle John D taught me how to catch carp and brim as they slid across a bumpy concrete slide. When I asked him where the fish came from he said, “Somebody told me China, but this man lies sometimes.” I
read every book in our small school library referencing China. My Aunt Vern sold strawberry cakes that she made from scratch. We got to eat one if the back door slammed causing the cake to fall. We ate those cakes straight from the pan. My Aunt Vern said everybody loved her cakes because they were “exotic”.How lucky to be introduced to exotic food as a child. In the towns we lived in everyone got along by getting to know each other. No air conditioning meant open windows and doors, plus everyone shared a “party line” phone. This meant you could listen in on conversations. It is no wonder that I love reality tv programs. At sixty years old, I love barefoot the best and meet everyone with a smile and a “hey” enjoying the fortune and flaws of my hometown, the South.