The purpose of the above pictures is to show the rural settings. Today I went to my hairdressers home, rather than going to the salon where she works two days a week. I needed a haircut in the worst way. Ladies, when your hair gets to a certain length, do you twist it between your fingers or get the scissors out and snip it? My hair had gotten to that stage. Her directions were take 75 till it deadends, turn right and drive forever to the Busy B, take a right stay continue on straight once you come to a stop sign, drive about 3 miles till you come to a pole that use to have a sign that read Smith Road, turn left onto the dirt road, drive for another 1 1/2 miles until you either see the house number or her name, she couldn't remember which, it's not really hard to find, yeah right! I became lost twice, there are no road signs, as I drove deeper into the area, the roads narrowed to single lanes, I lost cell phone service and the first time I ended at a dead end that lead into the lake! Talk about being nervous, thankfully there was a state trooper parked there, so I circled the parking lot and headed back the way I came and found the dirt road that should have been labeled Smith Road. Once I started down Smith Road, there were less and less homes and more wooded areas. The scenery reminded me of driving to my grandparents when I was a kid. It looked a lot like Sand Mountain fifty years ago.
My grandparents, at one time, lived on a dirt road. There was one area that threaded through trees that provided a shade. I remember, in the summer time, walking through the sand, feeling the coolness and silkiness as I stood there dragging my foot across the sand. It wasn't as much fun wet because it would squish between my toes. When we were growing up we didn't wear shoes. We walked and ran through dirt, sand, grass and rocks barefoot. I remember stepping on something that stung the bottom of my right foot. My grandma Turner got a sock and dumped the inside of a raw egg in, plus some other stuff. Oh how it squished! It felt icky! Another painful memory is stepping barefoot on burrs, that really hurt. Or even worse, stepping on the butt of a still burning cigarette!
Do y'all remember the old taffy kisses? There was peanut butter, strawberry and my favorite, banana. I wish they still sold them today. My fondest memory is the peddler truck, a huge van like vehicle, built low to the ground, blowing its horn letting us know it was there. We'd run down to the road, step through the open door and be confronted with the most delicious smells. The sugary smells of candy and bubble gum were the ones I liked best. The kisses were only 2 cents a piece.