Free Fallin'

I guess when you grow up in the south, you don't know that everyone else in the world looks at you differently. It's kind of like that kid who doesn't know he has a "Kick Me" sign on his back, until about the fifteenth kid plants one in his backside. We were just living life like everyone else.

Picture this: A 1980's farm town in Southern Arkansas of about 5,000 people, with 4 stop lights and a couple of stores. The economy was based on the year's profit of cotton, soy beans, and rice. You hit the edge of town, and it's cotton as far as you can see. There was only one difference...we thought we were living out a John Hugh's movie. A bit of denial about our social status in the grand scheme of the world....

I was surrounded by family. Everyone knew who I was, and knew my grandparents. After all, they did raise 9 kids in that town and farmed a big chunk of the land for years. Around the time I was born, they sold off the farm and moved to town.  

That's where I start to remember things. We loved playing outside, so we were always getting into trouble. Some of us, more than others....  

I remember parts of that day pretty vividly, but others are a little sketchy. I was standing on a red Igloo ice chest that was turned upside down. I was facing the chain link fence next to the right side of our house on Evergreen St. Looking out, I could see the street through the spaces in the fence. I was only 3 years old, so I couldn't see over the fence. My oldest sister, Jill,(2 years older) was standing beside me offering words of wisdom. "Do it. Do it." she giggled in the sweetest angelic tone. Oh, did I mention I had a jump rope tied around my waste? Well I did. The only thing odd about this, now that I think about it, I was only 3 years old! I didn't know how to tie anything! How did that jump rope get there, and who thought this would be a good idea? "Do it. Do it." There's the answer.

          Jill (left), Me (right), Mom (middle), Joni (stranglehold)


The LAST thing I remember is jumping off and hanging there. The NEXT thing I remember is waking up on my parent's bed...much later. That was the first time I knocked myself out, but definitely not the last.

Don't get me wrong, my sisters loved....well they loved to amuse themselves by talking me into things. I am writing all of this down as somewhat of a pay back, and because I have the fondest memories of growing up. I wouldn't change a thing.

I will be sharing stories from my childhood that are dear to me. Some amusing, some serious, and some just leave a lot to be answered...but all are true-life stories of an Average Southern Kid.  Some of you will be named and will feel their version of the events differ a bit, but we can let others decide...