"From the time I was a child all the way up through my teens, I went down to my grandfather's farm in Byhalia, Mississippi, anytime school was out. Our family lived in Memphis, and every year I looked forward to being on that farm with him. Sometimes I took the bus down, and other times he'd come up and get me. We'd hunt rabbits, cut firewood, and take care of everything. He raised mostly vegetables, but he had chickens and a few cows too. My grandmother would give me and my sister a lard bucket with just a little water in it---about this much---and we would soften up the cows' teats with that water and then we'd milk them. We'd bring the full bucket back to my grandmother, and we'd churn it and scrape the butter off the top. Once we got the butter off, we could drink the milk.
"I loved my grandfather. I remember riding in the back of his old Chevrolet truck, his farm workers singing old country songs and me just looking up at the sky. He was a mentor to me, and I looked to him for guidance. He took me places a grandfather ought to take his grandson. I miss him. I wish he was still here, but he died when I was in my twenties.
"I wish I could relive those days with him. I know I can't, but I wish I could. I just hope I can be an inspiration to my grandkids like he was to me."
"I loved my grandfather. I remember riding in the back of his old Chevrolet truck, his farm workers singing old country songs and me just looking up at the sky. He was a mentor to me, and I looked to him for guidance. He took me places a grandfather ought to take his grandson. I miss him. I wish he was still here, but he died when I was in my twenties.
"I wish I could relive those days with him. I know I can't, but I wish I could. I just hope I can be an inspiration to my grandkids like he was to me."
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