In Johnny Miller's childhood, there were a few times a year when they'd leave the countryside around Armadillo Creek and go somewhere else. Sometimes, it would simply be a weekend trip to his Grandpa and Grandma's house, over across the state line. A couple of hours to their house, and then be with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins for the next day or so, and then return home to normal life.
The big trip, however, typically came the day before Thanksgiving, and lasted through the Sunday following. They'd drive over three hundred miles, out of the mountains of his childhood, across the flat delta land, with its rice and cotton fields, across the big river, and into more of the same kind of country. They'd usually get off the big highways and follow the smaller two-lanes across the countryside. Their destination was their Aunt and Uncle's house, and Aunt and Uncle who were more like Grandma and Grampa than aunt and uncle.
Johnny and Tommy Miller couldn't hardly sit through their classes until noontime when school would end on that Wednesday, or on the years where school didn't let out early, their parents would come in and sign them out anyways. Then they'd hit the road. Once in a while, when they had a little extra money saved up, they'd stop at Wendy's in the city they had to pass through on the way - boy those burgers, even if it was only every couple of years, were something to remember. Johnny didn't get to eat out very often.
There were memories from those trips that would last through the years, burned into Little Johnny's consciousness, becoming threads in the fabric of his being. Even little things. From the sight, year after year, of sharecropper's shanties, looking like they were about to fall down, in the delta country, with, sometimes, a big Lincoln or Cadillac parked in the driveway. Johnny would forever wonder how it was that someone that couldn't afford to have a nice home could afford such nice cars. Another time, they were flying along in his Daddy's pickup, passing traffic that was crawling along, when all of a sudden, the motor stopped, right almost at dusk, in the middle of nowhere. They coasted over to the side of the road, and sat there. After some tinkering, and finally a couple of smacks against the electronic "brain" of the truck, it restarted and they continued on to their destination, where his Daddy would do an emergency repair as soon as an auto parts store opened.
Once they reached their destination, there were all sorts of interesting things to do. Their older cousin, who still lived at home with his Mom and Dad, had tons of Archie comics, and Johnny and Tommy would spend hours reading the comics. And, when things were quiet, they'd watch the Thanksgiving Day parades on TV (which was a treat since at home, the TV didn't come on before the five o'clock news!) They'd ride bikes up and down the road between their Uncle's house and their other cousins' homes. Sometimes, they'd even ride up the other way, past the big field with the pond and the pecan trees, to the small elementary school, and play on the playground, or even go out behind the school, and "explore" in the dumpsters. You'd never believe all the cool stuff that they found!
Probably the most memorable activity that would happen, for Johnny, at least, was just sitting on the old front porch. The porch had a wooden floor, and it was wide, and two or three feet up off the ground, and open underneath. The columns were wide, and Johnny could sit on the edge of the porch and dangle his feet off the front, while kids and/or dogs would run underneath the porch, and chickens would cackle out across the yard, or maybe he'd lean back against one of the columns supporting the wide roof overhead, and close his eyes, and breathe in the smoke of the Prince Albert cigarettes that his uncles and his Dad would roll, and listen to all the tales they told of times gone by.
And, somewhere before the weekend was over, they'd have a big feast, giving thanks for all that they had, and of those things, the most important of all was family. On Sunday, they'd pack up all their stuff and head for home. The drive home was never quite as fun and colorful as the drive to see family. They'd know that within the next day or so, they had to return to school. And they were so tired after all the non-stop playing and fun and family, that oftentimes, they'd doze a good bit of the way home.
Life in Armadillo Creek was good, but these occasional trips to another place were great, too. Being with family, during those special times every year was a wonderful thing. When Christmas would come, a month or so later, Johnny Miller's family would usually spend it at home, and although maybe they didn't get a whole lot of things, they did get love. And they'd always have the memories of the Thanksgiving that had just gone by.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Monday, November 14, 2005
Trick or Treat
In Armadillo Creek, trick-or-treating always happened on Halloween. Not a day or two before, like in some places, but the evening of Halloween, all the little Rooster Cogburns, and Darth Vaders, and other fellows would be marching up and down the streets, going door to door.
There were stories on the news of "tampered candy", and razor blades being stuck into apples, and things like that. In Armadillo Creek, however, parents didn't worry about such things too much. Of course, they'd check the candy out, but it was more because the 5 o'clock news told them they should. Johnny Miller and his brother Tommy always loved to go door to door. They'd make their rounds all around the town, loading up huge bags of candy.
Often, in those days, people would hand out fresh fruit, like apples, or popcorn balls, or some other homemade goodie. And, some of the more memorable candies were the sweet tarts, the rolls of smarties (take your pills yet?), and candy bars of any sort. In their house, candy was fairly rare. Their parents didn't forbid it, it just was an "extra" that they couldn't always afford.
One memorable Halloween evening, Johnny and Tommy got home from school, and started trying to figure out what they were going to "be". Mom decided, since she had some wigs from somewhere, that they'd go as girls. Only, two countrier girls there never were.
Johnny and Tommy had pipes that had once belonged to their Uncle Roger stuck in their mouths. They had painted on freckles, and lipstick, and boots and skirts. They made their rounds through the town, stopping eventually at Mrs. Smith's house. Mrs. Smith happened to be a teacher at the school, who had daughters, the youngest one of which was Tommy's age, just a little older than Johnny.
When Mrs. Smith answered the door, she made a comment about how pretty the young girls looked, and the daughter said, "Mom!!! They're boys who ride our bus..."
Johnny and Tommy could have both crawled under a table and died, and felt better about themselves than having to deal with that embarrassment, but, life went on. They went on to the next house, and the next, and by the time the evening was over, and candy being eaten at breakneck pace, they had quit worrying about what other people thought.
Years later, they'd chuckle about being "girls" on Halloween night, but it was an experience neither cared to repeat.
There were stories on the news of "tampered candy", and razor blades being stuck into apples, and things like that. In Armadillo Creek, however, parents didn't worry about such things too much. Of course, they'd check the candy out, but it was more because the 5 o'clock news told them they should. Johnny Miller and his brother Tommy always loved to go door to door. They'd make their rounds all around the town, loading up huge bags of candy.
Often, in those days, people would hand out fresh fruit, like apples, or popcorn balls, or some other homemade goodie. And, some of the more memorable candies were the sweet tarts, the rolls of smarties (take your pills yet?), and candy bars of any sort. In their house, candy was fairly rare. Their parents didn't forbid it, it just was an "extra" that they couldn't always afford.
One memorable Halloween evening, Johnny and Tommy got home from school, and started trying to figure out what they were going to "be". Mom decided, since she had some wigs from somewhere, that they'd go as girls. Only, two countrier girls there never were.
Johnny and Tommy had pipes that had once belonged to their Uncle Roger stuck in their mouths. They had painted on freckles, and lipstick, and boots and skirts. They made their rounds through the town, stopping eventually at Mrs. Smith's house. Mrs. Smith happened to be a teacher at the school, who had daughters, the youngest one of which was Tommy's age, just a little older than Johnny.
When Mrs. Smith answered the door, she made a comment about how pretty the young girls looked, and the daughter said, "Mom!!! They're boys who ride our bus..."
Johnny and Tommy could have both crawled under a table and died, and felt better about themselves than having to deal with that embarrassment, but, life went on. They went on to the next house, and the next, and by the time the evening was over, and candy being eaten at breakneck pace, they had quit worrying about what other people thought.
Years later, they'd chuckle about being "girls" on Halloween night, but it was an experience neither cared to repeat.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Friendship
The folks living around Armadillo Creek are about as country as country can get. In some cases, families have lived there for generations - the town and outlying communities in many cases were settled in the early 1800's.
Johnny Miller's family had migrated to what would later become the United States in the late sixteen hundreds and early seventeen hundreds, prior to the Revolutionary War. Indeed, some parts of the family had been here for hundreds or maybe thousands of years, as members of the Cherokee Indian tribe. Some of the patriarchs were colonists in Virginia who fought for independence in the War.
Over the years, as the family grew and spread, roots were laid down in Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee, and the family continued to move westward. In the mid eighteen-hundreds, one branch of the family put roots down in the forested valleys outside of Armadillo Creek. This same, or similar stories, could be told for many people who would someday settle down in the beautiful hills around Armadillo Creek.
By the time the Civil War broke out, at least one of the members of the family, Johnny's great, great, great Grandfather Riley, fought in the state's infantry division. Riley's mother was a Cherokee Indian, and eventually, he would marry another. And their kids would stay and farm the lands and raise children here for many years.
The homesteads that were settled in those years between eighteen-fifty and nineteen-hundred would stay in the family for generations, before gradually being sold, as people moved on to new adventures, or the depression and drought forced them to find jobs elsewhere.
By the nineteen-seventies, when Johnny Miller was born, the town of Armadillo Creek had been through boom-times and bust-times, and had survived it all rather well. The folks were friendly. For the most part, they were "settled". There were new people moving in, gradually, as industry moved into the bigger towns nearby.
Johnny went to school with a lot of other kids, but they all knew each other. The Armadillo schools were the largest in the county, but to qualify that, his graduating class was only forty-three people. The smallest school had only about a dozen. Some of his classmates included cousins. Most of them probably were related in some form or another even without knowing it. Such was country life.
In early elementary school, Johnny's best friend was Clifton. Clifton lived almost all the way over in the next school district, and eventually, would change schools. He lived with his elderly grandparents, and always fascinated Johnny with his colorful language. Not the "colorful language" of today, which consists of many vulgarities, but a color born of being raised by old fashioned country folks. He would say, "Gosh darn it, that there tree root is in the way of our cars," as they made "roads" in the dust underneath a huge, old spreading cedar tree with their matchbox cars. The tree's tangled roots were wonderful place to drive their cars during recess, because some of the roots would stretch above ground for a ways, before gradually sinking into the dust and dirt. The possibilities were endless, with roads around the roots, under the roots, and in some places, over the roots.
Later, after Clifton moved away, a new kid moved into the area. James was a good kid. Quiet, but smart. Johnny and James became best of friends. They'd share thoughts and stories, and by this time, had outgrown the matchbox cars. They'd discuss books they had read, or comics, or ... pretty much anything that crossed their minds. Neither was too athletically inclined, and by the time they reached junior high school, neither cared to play sports, although they did the mandatory PE classes - as they had no choice in the matter.
Later in their school years, they would be joined by a younger boy, Bill. Bill, too, was a quiet, but smart, kid. By the time Johnny Miller and his friend James were in the tenth grade, and Bill was in the ninth, they were always together when they had the chance. They'd spend many an hour discussing books and music and movies and anything that they could think of. Sometimes, they'd talk about girls, but all of them were too shy to actually approach one with anything besides "friendly" intent.
The bonds of friendship forged in those days would last for many years, as each of the boys grew up and grew apart, and went his own way in the path of life. One would one day join the military and move far away. Another, would become a writer, and move away for a while, then return. And the third would move across the state to live in a bigger city where more opportunities existed. Through all the lifestyle changes that each encountered, this thread of friendship would bring them back together when times were tough.
Johnny Miller's family had migrated to what would later become the United States in the late sixteen hundreds and early seventeen hundreds, prior to the Revolutionary War. Indeed, some parts of the family had been here for hundreds or maybe thousands of years, as members of the Cherokee Indian tribe. Some of the patriarchs were colonists in Virginia who fought for independence in the War.
Over the years, as the family grew and spread, roots were laid down in Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee, and the family continued to move westward. In the mid eighteen-hundreds, one branch of the family put roots down in the forested valleys outside of Armadillo Creek. This same, or similar stories, could be told for many people who would someday settle down in the beautiful hills around Armadillo Creek.
By the time the Civil War broke out, at least one of the members of the family, Johnny's great, great, great Grandfather Riley, fought in the state's infantry division. Riley's mother was a Cherokee Indian, and eventually, he would marry another. And their kids would stay and farm the lands and raise children here for many years.
The homesteads that were settled in those years between eighteen-fifty and nineteen-hundred would stay in the family for generations, before gradually being sold, as people moved on to new adventures, or the depression and drought forced them to find jobs elsewhere.
By the nineteen-seventies, when Johnny Miller was born, the town of Armadillo Creek had been through boom-times and bust-times, and had survived it all rather well. The folks were friendly. For the most part, they were "settled". There were new people moving in, gradually, as industry moved into the bigger towns nearby.
Johnny went to school with a lot of other kids, but they all knew each other. The Armadillo schools were the largest in the county, but to qualify that, his graduating class was only forty-three people. The smallest school had only about a dozen. Some of his classmates included cousins. Most of them probably were related in some form or another even without knowing it. Such was country life.
In early elementary school, Johnny's best friend was Clifton. Clifton lived almost all the way over in the next school district, and eventually, would change schools. He lived with his elderly grandparents, and always fascinated Johnny with his colorful language. Not the "colorful language" of today, which consists of many vulgarities, but a color born of being raised by old fashioned country folks. He would say, "Gosh darn it, that there tree root is in the way of our cars," as they made "roads" in the dust underneath a huge, old spreading cedar tree with their matchbox cars. The tree's tangled roots were wonderful place to drive their cars during recess, because some of the roots would stretch above ground for a ways, before gradually sinking into the dust and dirt. The possibilities were endless, with roads around the roots, under the roots, and in some places, over the roots.
Later, after Clifton moved away, a new kid moved into the area. James was a good kid. Quiet, but smart. Johnny and James became best of friends. They'd share thoughts and stories, and by this time, had outgrown the matchbox cars. They'd discuss books they had read, or comics, or ... pretty much anything that crossed their minds. Neither was too athletically inclined, and by the time they reached junior high school, neither cared to play sports, although they did the mandatory PE classes - as they had no choice in the matter.
Later in their school years, they would be joined by a younger boy, Bill. Bill, too, was a quiet, but smart, kid. By the time Johnny Miller and his friend James were in the tenth grade, and Bill was in the ninth, they were always together when they had the chance. They'd spend many an hour discussing books and music and movies and anything that they could think of. Sometimes, they'd talk about girls, but all of them were too shy to actually approach one with anything besides "friendly" intent.
The bonds of friendship forged in those days would last for many years, as each of the boys grew up and grew apart, and went his own way in the path of life. One would one day join the military and move far away. Another, would become a writer, and move away for a while, then return. And the third would move across the state to live in a bigger city where more opportunities existed. Through all the lifestyle changes that each encountered, this thread of friendship would bring them back together when times were tough.
Friday, October 21, 2005
A Good Man's Love
Armadillo Creek is like many small towns across America. It has older folks who have been brought up in "country ways". Sometimes this could be bad, as old habits, old traditions, old stereotypes are taught. But, usually, there's a sense of goodness that exists in people who love and are loved by their families, both the close and extended members. There's faith and values and traditions that are handed down through generations that somehow seem to be lost in the bustle of city living.
For Johnny Miller, one of the highlights of his young life, was time spent with his Grandpa. As anyone who knows Johnny's Grandpa would realize, he was often silly, and full of fun, with a huge heart. One of the many funny little sayings, which might not have any meaning to anyone outside the family, but a reaction of, "WHAT?!?!", is:
"You great big, stand up in the corner, and cry for buttermilk."
He'd tease the kids with that one... in his loving and friendly way. Over time, the kids would learn to roll their eyes, and just keep on going, but the younger ones always lapped this stuff up. He was the one "older" person who would do this - take the time to talk to them as if they were his whole world.... Even if what he said was a little silly.
Another of his sayings was "It'll feel better, when it quits hurting."
This is a very true statement. True, you might roll your eyes at it's obvious nature. But, stop and think about it. Most pains... Most ills... Most wrongs in this world, will feel better... When it quits hurting. In other words, time can heal a lot of things. Time, love, tenderness. Grandpa was the holder of all these things.
Another of Grandpa's sayings, and probably the one that "stuck" with most of the kids, was:
"If you don't quit, you're going to keep on...."
Silly, yet, when they first heard it, it made the kids do a double-take, because they'd think they were about to get in trouble, and instead of a threatened punishment, they got something funny. Yet, the point was made, and if the kids were just playing, they'd continue to play, and if they were doing bad, they'd usually stop before it did get serious.
Life was good, in Armadillo Creek, as little Johnny knew he would always be loved.
For Johnny Miller, one of the highlights of his young life, was time spent with his Grandpa. As anyone who knows Johnny's Grandpa would realize, he was often silly, and full of fun, with a huge heart. One of the many funny little sayings, which might not have any meaning to anyone outside the family, but a reaction of, "WHAT?!?!", is:
"You great big, stand up in the corner, and cry for buttermilk."
He'd tease the kids with that one... in his loving and friendly way. Over time, the kids would learn to roll their eyes, and just keep on going, but the younger ones always lapped this stuff up. He was the one "older" person who would do this - take the time to talk to them as if they were his whole world.... Even if what he said was a little silly.
Another of his sayings was "It'll feel better, when it quits hurting."
This is a very true statement. True, you might roll your eyes at it's obvious nature. But, stop and think about it. Most pains... Most ills... Most wrongs in this world, will feel better... When it quits hurting. In other words, time can heal a lot of things. Time, love, tenderness. Grandpa was the holder of all these things.
Another of Grandpa's sayings, and probably the one that "stuck" with most of the kids, was:
"If you don't quit, you're going to keep on...."
Silly, yet, when they first heard it, it made the kids do a double-take, because they'd think they were about to get in trouble, and instead of a threatened punishment, they got something funny. Yet, the point was made, and if the kids were just playing, they'd continue to play, and if they were doing bad, they'd usually stop before it did get serious.
Life was good, in Armadillo Creek, as little Johnny knew he would always be loved.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Bad Behavior
In the sleepy town of Armadillo Creek, kids had a lot of freedom to be kids. They were often allowed to roam around to neighbor's houses, or wherever they wanted to go, pretty much. This independence sometimes was a good thing. It taught them a little about self-esteem and self-worth - to be trusted to do things on their own without an adult nagging them about every little thing. And, at times, boys did what boys did, and got into trouble.
Johnny Miller was probably a good boy. But, like most other kids of his age, he didn't always behave the way he should have. One time, while they were out in the yard, taking a break after doing some yard work, his mother said, "Why don't you go fill up my coffee cup?"
It might have been a question, but it wasn't so much the words, it was just... Johnny felt he was being put upon. This one time, instead of minding, young Johnny yelled at his Momma, "I am not your slave. I am tired of doing everything for you."
And he ran away. That is to say, he ran around the house and out into the field for a while. He found a quiet place, where it was just him and God, sitting on a log in the edge of the woods. After he had some time to think about it, he walked back up to the house, and apologized to his Mother for being so rude, and ... went and fixed her a cup of coffee.
Like most kids of the day... and yes, even today... Johnny was occasionally a bit lazy, but mostly just tired of parents who took him for granted. He had no doubt that his parents loved him, very much. And, walking into the house, and pouring a cup of coffee for his Mother was no big chore. She had probably been working hard for him and the family all day, and no doubt did not feel appreciated either. But he was at an age, a pre-teen, where the world was often just not quite right. And, he'd blow off his steam in some way or another, and get it out, and be a decent boy again, for a while.
One day he would come to realize that parents made many sacrifices for their kids, and they felt "put upon" when the children did not listen or behave properly. But in that day and time, Johnny lived, day by day, as good as he could, and although he would occasionally have a "bad" day, most days were good.
There was another time when his temper would flare up - only this time was different. It was the only time in Johnny's childhood when he really did something he considered terrible, and he was consumed with guilt and shame afterwards - even though no harm had befallen anyone.
His Daddy worked with tractors. There were lots of times when Johnny's brother Tommy, who was a year and a half older than he was, would get to "go" with Dad while Johnny had to stay at home, with Mom. This too got old, sometimes. It just didn't seem fair, somehow, for Tommy to get to go and do all those neat things - whatever they were.
This particular day he begged and begged to go, but to no avail. He just wasn't big enough to tag along, and so he got left behind, once again. He studied on his situation, and decided he'd get back at them for being so mean to him. He found some nails out in the shed, and took them back to the place where the tractor was parked, and lined them up behind the big old rear tires. The nails were several inches long, and might, or might not, have pierced all the way through the big tires.... but the fact remained, that Johnny had done this thing, and with ill intent.
His Daddy spotted the nails, and came looking. This was one time, where the "spare thy rod, spoil thy child" proverb from the Bible came into play. The child was not spoiled! But, at the same time, although he did receive his well-deserved punishment, it was not overboard, and Johnny would never again intentionally try to harm someone or someone else's property.
Johnny Miller was probably a good boy. But, like most other kids of his age, he didn't always behave the way he should have. One time, while they were out in the yard, taking a break after doing some yard work, his mother said, "Why don't you go fill up my coffee cup?"
It might have been a question, but it wasn't so much the words, it was just... Johnny felt he was being put upon. This one time, instead of minding, young Johnny yelled at his Momma, "I am not your slave. I am tired of doing everything for you."
And he ran away. That is to say, he ran around the house and out into the field for a while. He found a quiet place, where it was just him and God, sitting on a log in the edge of the woods. After he had some time to think about it, he walked back up to the house, and apologized to his Mother for being so rude, and ... went and fixed her a cup of coffee.
Like most kids of the day... and yes, even today... Johnny was occasionally a bit lazy, but mostly just tired of parents who took him for granted. He had no doubt that his parents loved him, very much. And, walking into the house, and pouring a cup of coffee for his Mother was no big chore. She had probably been working hard for him and the family all day, and no doubt did not feel appreciated either. But he was at an age, a pre-teen, where the world was often just not quite right. And, he'd blow off his steam in some way or another, and get it out, and be a decent boy again, for a while.
One day he would come to realize that parents made many sacrifices for their kids, and they felt "put upon" when the children did not listen or behave properly. But in that day and time, Johnny lived, day by day, as good as he could, and although he would occasionally have a "bad" day, most days were good.
There was another time when his temper would flare up - only this time was different. It was the only time in Johnny's childhood when he really did something he considered terrible, and he was consumed with guilt and shame afterwards - even though no harm had befallen anyone.
His Daddy worked with tractors. There were lots of times when Johnny's brother Tommy, who was a year and a half older than he was, would get to "go" with Dad while Johnny had to stay at home, with Mom. This too got old, sometimes. It just didn't seem fair, somehow, for Tommy to get to go and do all those neat things - whatever they were.
This particular day he begged and begged to go, but to no avail. He just wasn't big enough to tag along, and so he got left behind, once again. He studied on his situation, and decided he'd get back at them for being so mean to him. He found some nails out in the shed, and took them back to the place where the tractor was parked, and lined them up behind the big old rear tires. The nails were several inches long, and might, or might not, have pierced all the way through the big tires.... but the fact remained, that Johnny had done this thing, and with ill intent.
His Daddy spotted the nails, and came looking. This was one time, where the "spare thy rod, spoil thy child" proverb from the Bible came into play. The child was not spoiled! But, at the same time, although he did receive his well-deserved punishment, it was not overboard, and Johnny would never again intentionally try to harm someone or someone else's property.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Take Me Home
In his younger days, Johnny Miller did not know all about diseases and famines, hurricanes and wildfires. All he knew about was that he lived, day by day, in a home where he was loved and taken care of, and as long as he did his fair share, he had no worries about what was going on "out there". The small town of Armadillo Creek was nestled in the mountains, a protected area, where tornadoes were uncommon, floods never too severe, as folks had enough sense to build their houses on high ground, and famine was just something you caught a glimpse of on the nightly news.
His parents didn't much encourage a lot of television watching, but he did have just a few favorites. There was, of course The Waltons. The show, it seemed to him, was set in a much simpler time and place. The Walton family did not even own a television set. And, if anything, the family was larger than Johnny's own. In a lot of ways, the Walton Family was like the Miller family. There was Walton's Mountain, so named because the family had been in the area for so long that they were a part of the country. Near Johnny Miller's family farm, there was, similarly, Miller Mountain. Miller Mountain was on land owned by the US Forest Service, and so not a part of the family property, but the fact remains that the Waltons and the Millers had been in their respective areas so long that even parts of the countryside was named after them. They really did have some things in common.
Johnny Miller's favorite television show of all time was The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams. In this show, a man accused of a serious crime escaped to the mountains, where he learned that he had a natural affinity for animals. They somehow trusted him, without inhibition, and he would do his best to fix their problems, mend broken wings, or whatever was required. He befriended and adopted a baby bear cub, named Ben, and they lived together in a cabin deep in the forest.
Johnny always dreamed of being able to forage through a forest, untouched by the white man. He somehow felt that
he had been born into the wrong world - and instead should have been living a couple of hundred years ago and able to explore the remote wilderness, with nothing but animals for companionship. There was something magical about this idea, and the show gave him a glimpse of what he had missed, by being born into this modern era, full of mankind, and his farms, and cities, and highways, and dams.
He memorized the lyrics of the theme song, and would sing along... It was his anthem:
Deep inside the forest there's a door into another land.
Here is our life and home.
We are staying here forever in the beauty of this place all alone.
We keep on hoping.
Maybe there's a world where we don't have to run.
Maybe there's a time we'll call our own, living free in harmony and majesty.
Take me home.
Take me home.
Back in those days, there were no fears of AIDS or other blood-born diseases. When Grizzly Adams, and his Indian friend Nakoma became blood brothers, Johnny and Tommy Miller and their cousins thought that they needed to become blood brothers, as well. And although, in reality, they did not slash their palms open with a hunting knife, and bind them together with leather straps, they did try.
And the bonds of friendship and brotherhood formed between the brothers and cousins would live within them for the rest of their days. And when things got bad, later on in life, they would always know that they had a place to call home. No matter where they would lay their heads, their family would always be there.
His parents didn't much encourage a lot of television watching, but he did have just a few favorites. There was, of course The Waltons. The show, it seemed to him, was set in a much simpler time and place. The Walton family did not even own a television set. And, if anything, the family was larger than Johnny's own. In a lot of ways, the Walton Family was like the Miller family. There was Walton's Mountain, so named because the family had been in the area for so long that they were a part of the country. Near Johnny Miller's family farm, there was, similarly, Miller Mountain. Miller Mountain was on land owned by the US Forest Service, and so not a part of the family property, but the fact remains that the Waltons and the Millers had been in their respective areas so long that even parts of the countryside was named after them. They really did have some things in common.
Johnny Miller's favorite television show of all time was The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams. In this show, a man accused of a serious crime escaped to the mountains, where he learned that he had a natural affinity for animals. They somehow trusted him, without inhibition, and he would do his best to fix their problems, mend broken wings, or whatever was required. He befriended and adopted a baby bear cub, named Ben, and they lived together in a cabin deep in the forest.
Johnny always dreamed of being able to forage through a forest, untouched by the white man. He somehow felt that
he had been born into the wrong world - and instead should have been living a couple of hundred years ago and able to explore the remote wilderness, with nothing but animals for companionship. There was something magical about this idea, and the show gave him a glimpse of what he had missed, by being born into this modern era, full of mankind, and his farms, and cities, and highways, and dams.He memorized the lyrics of the theme song, and would sing along... It was his anthem:
Deep inside the forest there's a door into another land.
Here is our life and home.
We are staying here forever in the beauty of this place all alone.
We keep on hoping.
Maybe there's a world where we don't have to run.
Maybe there's a time we'll call our own, living free in harmony and majesty.
Take me home.
Take me home.
Back in those days, there were no fears of AIDS or other blood-born diseases. When Grizzly Adams, and his Indian friend Nakoma became blood brothers, Johnny and Tommy Miller and their cousins thought that they needed to become blood brothers, as well. And although, in reality, they did not slash their palms open with a hunting knife, and bind them together with leather straps, they did try.
And the bonds of friendship and brotherhood formed between the brothers and cousins would live within them for the rest of their days. And when things got bad, later on in life, they would always know that they had a place to call home. No matter where they would lay their heads, their family would always be there.
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