I was born in August of 1957 in the Western part of North Carolina. My family’s farm was home to me. Home was 75 acres of cotton, peppers, sweet potatoes, ice potatoes and peanuts. Home was a vast landscape of hills, streams, and what I believed was the most beautiful river in the world. The streams were connected to the river. The water was cold and delicious throughout the year, even in the winter with snow resting on top. The water was pristine and pure. Home was the smell of animals, of parch peanuts on the stove, of a yard filled with grapes and plums. Home was our cement block house built by my uncles, aunts, cousins, and grandparents. When I woke up every Sunday morning, home was the best environment in the world. I felt the love and support of my immediate family and extended family members everyday; each person had a genuine concern about the other people in our household. The scents in our home of fresh coffee and home cooked breakfast was amazing. We did not have a lot of money, but there was love for one another at the highest level.
As early as age four, I can still remember my granddad and uncles getting ready for a hard day of work on the farm. The rooster woke us up every morning. Every food we ate was cultivated by our family. They did not use any chemicals to grow food. My granddad would use cow and chicken manure to fertilize the soil to help crops grow. Today, food grown this way is called organic; from the day I was born until my senior year in high school, all the foods I ate were organic. I am truly blessed to have been provided this type of food to nourish my body in my early years.
To this day, many of my aunts and uncles still raise food this way. They take great pride in the preparation of the foods they eat. If there were ever any extra food left, we would give it to the animals to eat, and they would love it! I can recall some of the animals licking their tongues out as they lapped up food from the slop buckets. I can still hear the popping and smacking of the animals taking advantage of eating the leftover foods that some would consider waste.
As early as age four, I can still remember my granddad and uncles getting ready for a hard day of work on the farm. The rooster woke us up every morning. Every food we ate was cultivated by our family. They did not use any chemicals to grow food. My granddad would use cow and chicken manure to fertilize the soil to help crops grow. Today, food grown this way is called organic; from the day I was born until my senior year in high school, all the foods I ate were organic. I am truly blessed to have been provided this type of food to nourish my body in my early years.
To this day, many of my aunts and uncles still raise food this way. They take great pride in the preparation of the foods they eat. If there were ever any extra food left, we would give it to the animals to eat, and they would love it! I can recall some of the animals licking their tongues out as they lapped up food from the slop buckets. I can still hear the popping and smacking of the animals taking advantage of eating the leftover foods that some would consider waste.
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