Dothan

   This is the town my mother's family chose to live. A typical Alabama town that was famous for peanuts. This is the place where nearly every peanut used in the production of peanut butter originated. Dothan can be found in the Bible.  That history is not that good. During my early years we would make the annual trip back home to be with the family as many do in America.  One year my cousins and I went cruising in a '56 chevy.  For fun, we would go on a watermelon raid.  We would douse the lights and turn off the car and coast up to a field with ripened melons. One night, the farmer opened the front door flicked on the porch light and let go a barrage of shotgun blasts.  It was too far away to be effective.  We jumped in the car with our captured melons. What an image. I can still smell the oil burning on the engine manifold as we made our getaway.
       My uncles were woodsmen. One night, my uncle Kermit organized a frog hunting out in the swamps and bogs that surround this little hamlet of years ago. If you never eaten fried frogs legs you are missing out on one of the most Southern of dishes that tastes so good.  The last time I was there, I saw my Aunt and Uncle for the last time.  I knew it would be the last time because they both were crying as I boarded the bus to New Orleans and finally Seattle. 

       I heard the dreaded news a few years later. There was a fig tree in their backyard.  This fig tree grew the sweetest and largest fruit I've ever seen. It seems many Southern households have fruit trees in the backyard. My Aunt Sara had a mulberry tree that produced great quantities that were turned into pies. The birds would eat from this tree until they became intoxicated and could not fly.
      Nearly every summer I would go to Florida to be with my Aunt Mary and her many children. Her husband was a car enthusiast who bought her a 1964 convertible Mustang. This car was a light blue with white leather interior with 4 on the floor.  After much pleading she finally let me take it for a spin on the farm. I still remember how this little car handled with its rack and pinion steering.
       We had other relations we visited often. One of our distant cousins drove the stock car circuits which can be brutal for the driver. I remember him talking about how it felt to win the race. Those glorious days have no equal to anything in my experience. The immense love I felt when with my family that showed me I was there to be a significant feature in this huge family. It scared the hell out of me.
      I'd go riding horses with Richard my cousin in the cotton fields and peanut farms that surround Dothan. I'd always ride bareback like the Indian I wanted to be.  The horse was a wild one. He did not like riders at all. His favorite trick was the brush off. He'd gallop away with me trying to turn him. He was on a mission. There was a shed with a galvanized roof that overhung just about horse high. He'd dash as near to he shed as he could go then ducking his head to try and get me in a collision with the roof edge. You had to lay flat down on the horse's back to avoid decapitation.  He didn't care.  He had all the peanuts he could eat.
        Many of these old towns had swimming pools.  These were huge affairs that attracted the families during recreational times. Artesian springs fed the pools that the southerners started calling mineral waters that had healing properties.  These springs became popular with the wealthy in the north. It was not long in coming before the northerners would make the annual pilgrimage to these places. The Southern Baptists convert many people using these springs to baptize the repentant.  It was a dual use facility in the heyday of the 20's and 30's. Most of these facilities have gone the way of the horse.  Replaced by the more modern pools and baptismals they are remembered in the old family portraits of the era.
During the hot summers there would be tent revivals set up in open fields of the rural south.  The choirs would start singing those old hymnals which would touch the heart of the ladies of the faith. This in turn, would bring the curious family members to these huge open air events. It beats laying around and getting drunk.  There were many converts because of these endeavors.  It was the place to get feed both spiritually and physically.
     Always the pranksters, we would go golfing at night on my Uncle's golf course. We soon tired of this idiocy and though we would do some greens keeping. We collected sand from the sand traps and poured it into the hole. We did not stop there ignoring good advice, but created more piles of sand so in the morning the first golfer would be a little perplexed as to where the real hole was. This type of pranksterism went on for most of the summer. Beware of the creative mind.