By Bob Heafner © 1983-2012
Issue: November, 1983
The music of a whippoorwill drifting in from the meadow on a moonlit summer night or walks in the evening when sundown and a cool breeze have cleared away the summer heat; these are memories of a country childhood that I will cherish and seek for the rest of my life.
Old fences and log barns with field mice skeltering across the lofts and river fishing with an old neighbor man. A cat named Tom that followed me everywhere and a black and tan hound pup called “Bones” whose legs were so bowed he had trouble walking til Dad rigged up splints out of popsicle sticks for him to wear for a few months while his bones straightened out.
“Gathering in” the garden and Mom canning it in a hot kitchen all summer long. Company coming and living room prayer meetings on Wednesday nights.
These are a few of the reasons I’m country. They’re memories that I cherish and the way of life they represent, I will never forget. Poor but proud and not afraid of work.
Sure, I enjoy eating in fancy city restaurants once in a while, but I’m always glad to get home to the country. I’ve even lived in cities but the country has always been home.
My accent portrays my roots and they are country roots I’m proud of. Some folks wonder, “What do people do around here?” Well, the best answer is - We enjoy the country.