The Holler

Well I actually have a request for another story of growing up in the country. I do feel rather fortunate that I grew up learning about nature and all of its wonderful glory. There are a lot of benefits to living up a dead end road where everyone knows each other. And back then there weren’t that many people in the holler and half were related in one way or the other. Not to me mind you, but it was just a few family names covered everyone.

The name of the road for instance was then Hankins Hollow, for the ones that first moved into it. Then down the road was Millers Hill, cause at the top of the hill were several houses where the Miller families lived. There were also the Skaggs, the Ackerman family, the Clarks, and the Clines further down the road. We lived just above the “circle” so named because the road at the foot of our driveway made a circle around a pile of briars and black berry bushes.

I grew up literally roaming the hillsides and creek banks, it was so fun, and no one worried about what would happen when I roamed off, cause everyone looked out for each other.  My parents even had to develop a horn tooting pattern so I knew it was them calling me home, because I tended to ignore regular attempts saying I wasn’t sure who it was honking.

Behind our house is a fairly good sized cave, we always were digging for arrow heads and the like. There have been many of those found on this acre of ground Mom and Dad bought. To this day there is one huge rock sitting in the middle of the cave that no one broke up or dug under, I still wonder just what lies beneath it. Maybe one day I’ll get someone to break it up and look under it! For now it’s just fun wondering as all of us have done.

Then there is this small valley that goes around to where the old spring used to be. That was some good water too, not as good as Grandma’s well water, but always cold and a good spot for a drink on a hot day after hike’n around the hills.

And below the house and across the cow pasture, where the persimmon tree was, and at the edge of the bottom field was the creek. I can’t count how many times I’ve been in that creek. I fished in that creek; often times just taking some line and a hook I would sneak off with and just tie it to a branch when I got to the creek. And of course it was just so easy to just dig up some worms right there so you had no need to pack a can of worms with you. Mostly just caught suckers and rock bass but it was so much fun!

Nice little swimming holes there too, it seemed no matter how many times I was told keep out of that creek, I always seemed to wind up soaked before I got home. Even our dog, Satan, (she will be a blog of her own one day) she always would go swimming with me. She loved hanging out and followed me everywhere no matter what my plans were you can bet she was tagging along looking for a ground hog or some other critter to chase.  The name of the creek is Sugar Creek, it’s just south of Possum Holler. And yes those are the real names, so let’s see that means I was raised up Hankins Holler where you had to cross the bridge that ran across Sugar Creek, and both are just south of Possum Holler.  And just over the hills behind the house you could cut over to Hog Run Road. What a great geography lesson!

Today, the holler has changed in many ways; it’s now filled with rental properties and people that just don’t appreciate how things used to be. You type in the address and can find out there is a convicted child molester in one house, then another has more traffic come’n through it than McDonalds drive through window, these things just are sad to me. But there is still some of the original Hankins family here, of course my Mom’s place and my brother actually bought that hillside behind our house that cuts over to Hog Run Road. And there are some of the Skaggs family and the Clines live’n in the holler. And even Ackerman’s still own their land too even if it’s not been lived in for years and years.

All in all, the holler is still here, a few of the names have changed and you can no longer let your dogs roam free to chase ground hogs or let your children roam the hills and creek banks alone. But I will always have those memories of how simple things used to be in my holler.

A Simple Life

And no I'm not talking about the so called reality show that aired for a bit. That was so far from real it just wasn't even funny.

I'm talking about my simple life, growing up. My life during the early years was so simple; it's just hard to believe it at times. I wonder why things need to change. I think that has been one of my biggest gripes in life, why can't it stay the same?

Of course what I call simple others may view differently but I literally was raised up a dead end holler (and yes I do know its hollow not holler I’ll blog on my vocabulary another day) at the edge of the woods where we didn’t even have drinking water.  We heated with a coal and wood stove, one of my passions when I was younger was gathering wood, I loved splitting wood with an axe, I think it was because being the youngest my two closest siblings were brothers and I always wanted to outdo them when it came to things of that nature.

One of my fondest childhood memories was of time spent with my Grandmother Laura Riddlebarger, whom I am named after. She had a well beside her house, which was a log cabin, and the water from that well was always ice cold even when it was the hottest time of summer.  She had one of those aluminum buckets to draw the water up in, and then the aluminum dipper we all used. That’s what I call simple living, and I miss that so very much.  As we had no drinking water at our house we would wash out milk jugs and use those to carry water home in from Grandma’s.  City slickers would consider it hard work, but for me it was a simple task for much enjoyment. We actually didn’t get good drinking water in the house until around 1982, two years after I graduated high school.
Another simple thing I miss, fishing with my Dad, I loved sitting by a creek, a river or a lake listening to him tell stories. He was so wonderful at it. My dad was older, keep in mind he was 21 years older than my mom and was in his 50s when I was born. So the older he got the more often he repeated his stories, and I memorized them and now tell them for him! I was the typical Daddy’s girl too, I’d go hunting with him, help him clean chickens after he would kill them. Yes I know it sounds horrible but it was another simple fact of life, we raised chickens and rabbits for meat so we had slaughter days.  It wasn’t as bad as you would think either. Yea Peta would not be happy with it, but that’s just part of the country life. I hunted with my Dad, even worked on cars with him, those are the simple times I miss so much.

I think now I’m at a point in my life where I want to work to make the simple things return. It’s my time to share simple joy and happiness with my family and friends. My time to just simply be me and do simple things like carving a pumpkin with my grandson, because those are the things that will one day be his memories of a simpler time with his MeMaw. There will be no “slaughter days” now though, I’m way to kind hearted to even think about repeating that part, but I do have lots of stories to tell him while fishing!

And So It Begins

Who am I? Well I’m just a good old country girl that lived up a holler for way too many years to count. That holler made me who I am today though. I’m a simple person with lots of old fashioned beliefs. Yes I do believe in God, and for those out there that don’t well, I hate that for ya but you do have the right to believe what you want. I’m not a big fan of writing and I’m sure it will show in my blogs, but bear with me, cause this is about me after all!


I’m the youngest of 9 children, you learn a lot being the youngest, and mostly you learn what not to do.  Like sneaking out at night to meet guys, which was one big no no! And do not play with Dad’s service revolver no matter how tempting because you can do something like one of my brothers and shoot through the wall just missing my sister’s head.  Dang did he get in trouble for that one.  And yes my parents believed in spanking, but once again being the baby I learned what not to do and avoided most of those. I actually only remember one and it was from my Mom, and it wasn’t so bad.


I have an immense passion for animals of all sorts, another part of being in the country all those many years. I was always dragging home some type of critter, then begging to get to keep it. Most times I won out because my Dad knew I would eventually turn whatever it was loose when it was old enough. One thing I love, horses, but this was one animal that would elude my ownership even now. I love to ride though, always have and always will and who knows one of these days I may still own the horse of my dreams.


I graduated high school in 1980, and like many others, I wish I could go back and do it all over again. Those were the good old days, but that’s what memories are for right? (Queue the song Memories from the Broadway musical Kats, I always did love that song.) I went straight to work after high school, just as my parents wanted me to, work was more important than college for them and being the obliging daughter I did what was expected. This was something I always wish I had done differently though.


But three years later my father passed away, and the year after that I gave birth to my one and only child, a lovely daughter named Darcy. My how that changes one’s life drastically and forever, I never pictured myself a mother but loved it after it happened.  I raised her on my own for the most part but did have help from some of my family, and she has since blessed me with a wonderful grandson.


I think I will stop here for now, it’s a beginning of a moderately long story that I wish to tell. A story of life and the highs and lows it can throw at you. I hope that eventually it will help others that have gone through some of the same challenges that life has thrown my way. So thanks for stopping by and stay tuned and see what happens.