From Dad

Then and Now

“Then and now” are very different. I remember when a “hard drive” was a mule that wouldn’t mind. A “micro-wave” was a shy, red-faced girl sneaking a small wave to a lanky boy in bib overalls.

My dad had an honorable profession, a share-cropper. He was a mild-mannered fellow who wouldn’t ring a chicken’s neck. Mom had to do that. He petted his mules so much that they got fat and sassy. They felt so good that he had discipline problems.

I was a good boy (I’m writing this like I want to) and didn’t require daddy whippings. Mama’s peach tree limb was sufficient. One old boy said his

dad only hit him one time and that was with a Buick. I stayed clear of the mules.

Being an only child I had it made, as in “spoiled rotten”. I picked my favorite piece of golden fried squirrel or chicken. I tell folks that I was raised on pulley bones. Country-cured meat was hanging in the smokehouse. The evening treat was popcorn cooked in the wire popper over the fireplace. Greasy peanuts cooked in an old iron skillet made a great side-order. Clean Country Music from the Grand Old Opry completed a perfect evening.

Then we moved to the big city of Savannah. We no longer had to blow out the lamp at bedtime. We had magic lights with a wall turn-on. No fireplace, just a wood heater. Dad would open the door and cook the popcorn “uptown”.

“Now”, with all its conveniences is ok, but “then” was great. Some things aren’t nearly as good. Like my late friend, Jack Tucker, said, “I used to have to eat country ham, and now I can eat bologna.” Is that a big improvement?

Now and then, I like to think about “then and now”. God sure blessed us.

I miss my Dad.