Nostalgic and at times, sweetly melancholy, this little memoir of a seemingly small town boy who grew up in the mid1900s mill town in Easley, SC, would be thought by some to be unimportant. I think quite the opposite. The author lived in a time of American simplicity that was on the cusp of great change. His stories are rife with gentle humor and great, heart-rending tragedy. I loved this little book, and now I drive by the Easley mill house area with much more appreciation, understanding, and a little borrowed wistfulness.
And I am honored to live next door to the author’s niece, who was kind enough to lend me, not only her uncle’s books, but invite me into her family’s story. I think that is what is most treasured: to be welcomed into someone’s story.
I guess I need to give the memories back to their owner. I wish I could find my own copy of this little piece of local history.