Growing up on ‘Holt Hill’ in Vendor, Arkansas, I was truly blessed. I had a touch of the ‘Old South’ that I now have oft read of; a true, closed community of my own people who endured hardship, drought and war, and came out stronger as a result.
Of the many giants who walked through my childhood, there is one I feel I have neglected to mention in my past scribblings, one who held the family together through loss and gain, through thick and thin, through hardship and privation and good times and excellent years: my great-grandmother. But I just always called her grandma.
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