I Grew Up in a Holler – I grew up in a holler off a little country road in a community called Quick’s Run, Kentucky. We even had a post office at one time many years ago.
It was located in the Queen’s Brothers Grocery Store at Martin, KY. We ended up with it in our house for many years and then one of my sisters took it. But then donated it to a little museum in Vanceburg, KY.
My great uncle, Forrest Queen, died the year (1971) I was born, but he was part owner and ran the store.
A few years after I was born my dad built a new building close to the same spot the old Queen’s Store was. He originally had it as a calf barn, but cleaned it out and painted it and turned it into a grocery store.
The house that I grew up in was well over 100 years old, it originally was a one-room cabin. The logs were still visible behind some of the paneling/sheetrock. It was a huge two story house with four bedrooms. While growing up there was my two sisters in one bedroom, two of my older brothers in another bedroom; my oldest brother had a room to himself; I had a bed in the hallway upstairs.
It was a cold, cold house in the winter time. The only source of heat in this old house was a wood stove in the living room, and the stove pipe ran up through my mom and dad’s bedroom. If it got really cold we would all pile up on the floor in their room. Later on, in the years after some of my brothers and sisters moved out. I graduated from the hall to a bedroom of my own.
It, of course, was on the cold side of the house. I would grab my blanket and wrap it around the stove pipe in mom and dad’s room and heat it up, then run and dive under the many covers I had on my bed. I have woken up the next morning and had snow on my blankets. The windows in my room had been broken out due to playing softball in the front yard. We just never replaced the windows. Put plastic over them but the wind would just rip them to shreds.
I Grew Up in a Holler
I lived up a holler on a 500 Acre farm. By the time I was five I was already doing a lot of the tractor work on the farm. Cutting, raking and baling hay. Plowing and disking tobacco fields, preparing tobacco beds, I have even drug a dead cow up into the woods behind our house so the coyotes and vultures could eat it up. I had to stifle myself from throwing up, but I did it.
Kids today don’t know how good they have it. They don’t know what hard work is unless they have square baled hay in the hottest part of the summer days. Or worked in a tobacco field after school, or stripped tobacco until it was time to go to bed on a school night. People might laugh how I talk and think I’m just another dumb hillbilly, but that’s ok, I wouldn’t have wanted to grow anywhere else.