By Neal Wooten
Time seems to go faster the older we get. New adventures become fewer and far between as the day-to-day grind wears on us, and simply paying the bills takes precedence in our lives. The yesterdays of our youths become nothing more than murky blurs in our memories. Being a kid on the mountain back then had its challenges, but it sure had its wonders too. But there are things I know I’ll never do again.
Building rabbit traps – if I could scrounge up enough wood, I would build another rabbit trap. These were boxes about eight inches across and high and about two feet in length. A long stick ran from a trap door in the front to a notched stick in a hole in the back across a forked stick in the middle. At one time, I had a dozen spread out over our wooded property and would check them early in the mornings. It was always exciting catching a wild rabbit. I’d let them go, of course.
Swimming in the creek – there was a spot deep in the woods at the back corner of our property where the creek got a little wider and a little deeper. Naturally, that made the current less swift. We called it “Davis’ Wash Hole.” I’m not sure where the name came from, but going swimming there was one of my favorite things.
Smoking rabbit tobacco – my grandmother did this anytime she had a cold, but for us kids, it was just to be cool. When the little leaves turned black and grey and dried out, we’d strip them off the plants until we had a handful. We used paper torn from grocery sacks to wrap them as tight as we could. We’d light up and puff away. Sometimes we even made corncob pipes to smoke it.
Running trotlines on the Tennessee River – when I was 13, Dad’s newest entrepreneurial venture was catching and selling catfish. Spending nights on the river was awesome. We met a family who lived like gypsies out of an old school bus, and that was their only source of income. Of course, that’s not allowed anymore, but it’s sure some fond memories.
Camping out – today, when people talk of camping out, they mean with a nice tent, sleeping bags, portable generator, and other such luxuries. When we camped out as kids, we took matches, wieners, and, if we were lucky – marshmallows. We’d build a fire, roast some snacks, and sleep on the ground under the stars.
I guess, barring an apocalypse, those days are gone for good. But I’m glad I got to experience them and glad I get to remember them.
