When I Was Young I Was A Hillbilly And Proud Of It, Then And Now
Posted: Sunday, November 13, 2011
by Joel Hendon
http://hebronics.org/index.html
As I have explained in other articles, my first memories are from my life in Gnatville, a sprawling rural community some 8 miles from the city of Piedmont, Alabama, a bustling metropolis of somewhere between 4,000 and 5,000 population. Piedmont is in Calhoun County although Gnatville was over the line in Cherokee County whose county seat was Centre, Alabama approximately 16 miles away.
Amazingly, the grader had to have its left wheels down in the ditch, some places were quite deep, and the standing operator had to lean strongly to his right to hang in there. It didn’t enter my mind then, but now as I think back, long days of such work, must surely have caused those guys to grow one leg longer than the other. And, I am pretty sure there were some mighty aching leg, and back, muscles when they arrived home at night. Not a lot of pain relievers were available then, other than Watkins Liniment.
The wooded areas and mountains were covered with virgin timbers, healthy and beautiful in all four seasons. Even in winter, there were numerous evergreens and even the deciduous were picturesque with their bare yet healthy branches.
I find it amusing to read some of the available descriptions of those called Hillbillies. Here are a couple of statements from the Wikipedia site for Hillbilly.
The term hillbilly is commonly used outside of Appalachia as a reference in describing socially backward people that fit certain "hillbilly" characteristics. In this context, it is often (though not always) derogatory. Although the described person may reside on completely flat terrain, hillbilly is substituted in place of more disparaging terms, such as white trash. In urban usage, hillbilly is sometimes used interchangeably for terms like hick. (Wikipedia)
The "classic" hillbilly stereotype - the poor, ignorant, feuding family with a huge brood of children tending the family moonshine still - reached its current characterization during the years of the Great Depression, when many mountaineers left their homes to find work in other areas of the country. It was during these years that comic strips such as Lil' Abner and films such as Ma and Pa Kettle made the "hillbilly" a common stereotype. (Ibid)
I have seen cartoonist’s versions of skinny bearded men laying beneath a tree with their straw hat covering his face, with a rib-showing hound dog also laying nearby, many times. But in my real life in the hills, I never once saw such a scene. Actually, if I had my life to live over, I would choose my youth to be in the hill country above all else. Work hard, play hard, breathe clean fresh air, eat nutritious home grown foods enjoy the many hours with family and few with neighbors organizing a cow-pasture league baseball team. Sundays, I would venture to say that above 80% of the neighbors attended church services. Protracted meetings, now called “Revivals” or “series of meetings” were exciting periods when many people assembled that normally did not attend regular services.
Enjoying the abundant wild life and birds, Whippoorwills with their captivating calls at dusk, mourning doves with their cooing calls to their mates, Bull bats (a type of swallow) who came out in the late evening and circled about, very high in altitude, a small bird searching for flying insects. When one was spotted below, the Bull bat went into a nose dive at high speed, pulling out of the dive as it captured the insect, with a bull-horn sound.
Wild flowers in abundance, wild Huckleberries so much sweeter and tastier than domestic Blueberries. Wild grapes, locust pods sweeter than honey. And on and on.
Streams flowing through many of the valleys and vales from the mountain springs, cold and delicious, non-contaminated. A spring behind our home belched out water enough to have furnished the city of Piedmont. It had created it’s own stream which intersected with a much larger stream after about 200 yards and flowed on until it eventually reached the Coosa River and headed to the Gulf of Mexico. The larger stream behind our home was created and fed by three other springs, the first of which was at the base of a small mountain.
Many things which seem crude to some modern folk, such as all the children in our community celebrated the first of May since off came the shoes, not to be worn again until September, except for church attendance and other such dignified occasions. It is amazing how tough the soles of one’s feet and toes become when they go barefoot for a while. Each year we would have to tip-toe around where small gravel or other sharp items were, for about a week or two, then the skin became so thick and tough, usually a briar would not completely penetrate it. The only real hazard of going barefoot and getting careless with it, was the stumping of a toe. It was often difficult for us to get all toes healed at one time in the fall, in order to be able to put our shoes on. Amazing. I can feel the tiniest tidbit on a clean floor now, and if it is hard, it hurts my foot. I never try to go barefoot anywhere any more, I even put on a pair of socks after my nightly shower…I sleep with them on.
When I was in the U.S. Army, I dated a girl in Chicago who had never been outside that city. Not once! You could never convince me that such a life could be better than living in the hills.
Things always seem better, some even sweeter, long after the fact. I suppose that is partly the reason my memories are so wonderful. I know that I would no longer like to go back to the outdoor toilets, the milking of cows each morning and evening, etc. But then, those things were normal and easily accepted. Especially the cows, I would not mind one bit getting up and going to milk the cows. I’m up before dawn anyway, and all I can do is drink my coffee and stare out the window as the sky lights up…and reminisce.
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Top-level comments on this article: (3 total)You really have a way with words, Joel. I grew up in Appalachia as well, though a little bit later than you did. Still, you make me miss those days.
I remember my parents telling me at the beginning of each Summer that my feet would grow calloused enough by the end of the Summer that walking down the dirt and gravel lanes leading to our house would no longer hurt my feet... and I would be amazed at the end of each Summer as I realized that they were right!
I love what technology has done for living standards in America and around the globe, but I still believe that what is really important today is the same thing as what was really important back then and technology will never change that.
Yes, I agree with you Bruce. I only wish I could have kept and lived in our old home place until now. It almost brings tears to my eyes every time I go out there. It belongs to my oldest sister's daughter though so I can go anytime I want, gather figs and other stuff although her husband has done away with almost, if not all the fruit trees, other than the one great big fig tree. There are many great memories out there, but at least, I have them.
Joel, you made me want to say "Goodnight, Johnboy". As always, I love your storytelling.
Thanks for reading and commenting Lorrie...but John Boy was modern day compared to good old Gnatville folks.
I loved this article! Hillbilly and proud and you should be! Sounds great (except for going barefoot, sounds painful!). I have a friend who moved to Alabama (Hope or Farehope I think its called--it's on the coast and ritzy) and they love it. I have given serious thought about moving there one day. If I do, I'll try the barefoot thing!Hi Steve, thanks for the comment. Yes, Fairhope is located on the eastern shore of the Mobile Bay and it is a beautiful area. I love the Alabama coastal area but I still prefer the slower pace of the hill country. Alabama is really a very nice and beautiful state. It has had a lot of negative publicity in the past, but much of it was misleading. There were lots of strong segregationists back in it's earlier days, but even then, they were not the majority. I don't think any state has been more successfully de-segregated. I was raised back in the 30's and taught to respect anyone older than I, regardless of race. I felt really bad about the actions taken by the really prejudiced people. Come on down, you'll like it. By the way, go easy on the barefoot thing. I've not stepped outside barefoot now in years. My feet would be shredded if I tried it now.
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