If you ran across my small blog looking for a recipe by mistake it is evident I came from a small Southern town. As a ten year old growing up in a one stop light town there was a limited amount of exposure to local, state or national news. The news reel in the local theater was pretty much our internet for worldly news but then all my attention was focused on my favorite western star Allen Rocky Lane. Having said all that we did have a variety of homegrown heroes, especially athletes.
To sit beside one of these heroes on Saturday in the barber shop was spellbinding. Not to sound chauvinistic the female athletes had the same star appeal as the guys. When there was a home football, basketball, or baseball game the stands were packed. At times even the most devout church goer would let the referee know what a lousy call he just made. As a young want-to-be that type of loyalty resonated with me.
At the time names like Davis, Welch, Hester, Bridger, Hammonds, Edwards ( my sister was an All-State basketball player) were royalty in the community. Each of these had college potential and a few even baseball’s major league. In retrospect, I never understood how all this talent fell through the cracks other than the lack of exposure you get from a small blue collar town.
On a given Friday night the division of front street upper crust to the hourly textile employee was non-existent. The town’s people flocked to the gym’s, and playing fields for one common cause, cheering on these ” small town heroes” and making them feel like ” big time heroes”.
Be safe.
Joe's Bakers Dozen 