This past Saturday I spoke to the DeKalb County Genealogy Society at the public library in Fort Payne, a great bunch of folks. Knowing how they loved history, I used my time to talk about the research I did for the Granny Dollar novel, and things I learned from it.
One thing that stood out to me was that Nancy (Granny Dollar) had been raised in a predominantly Cherokee environment with Native American culture. After the forced relocation, however, when Nancy was about 15, the landscape changed to a majority of white settlers, as did the culture. But Nancy never let go of her Indian way of life. Even living to the ripe old age of 106, she was still a Cherokee through and through.
It dawned on me that she and I have that in common. After living in the Montgomery area for 20 years and Milwaukee, Wisconsin for ten more, I’m still Sand Mountain to the bone. My accent might have faded, but I still act the same as I was taught as a kid.
One day in Milwaukee as I was driving Maggie home from work, we passed a minivan on the side of the road with a flat tire and they seemed to be having trouble changing it. Without thinking, I turned around and went back. There were several kids in the van, and the dad was trying to get the lug bolts off using that tiny wrench that comes with the vehicle.
I took out my huge four-way lug wrench that I always kept in my car and proceeded to help. Those nuts were on tight, but I was finally able to break them loose. After we got the spare on, I got back in the car and headed home. I had pulled a muscle in my right arm while straining and was wincing as I drove.
When I explained why I was hurting to Maggie, she asked the strangest question. “Why did you stop to help those people? You don’t even know them.” I looked at her like she was from another planet then answered the question: “Because they needed help.”
Once I was hired to speak at the public library in Wausau, Wisconsin. While there I went to Walmart, and as I was leaving, found a huge roll of $20 bills on the sidewalk. I took it back in and gave to two young girls at the service desk and they couldn’t believe it. But my thinking was simple – it wasn’t mine and somebody will probably come back looking for it.
As I’ve often said: “You can take the boy from the mountain, but not the mountain from the boy.”