The first house I remember was a double pen structure which sat up on tall blocks. It was in the western part of The Delta not far from the Big River. The soil was buckshot which had only recently been released from the clutches of the surrounding swamp water. It was dark, grainy, and very rich but not easy to farm. When dry, it would shrink and develop large cracks. When wet, it was heavy, would clod up, and be very slick--some said, "e,as slick as owl shit."e, But in crop years when the weather was neither wet too late nor dry too early, it produced a bountiful harvest.Light came from coal oil lamps. Water came from a pitcher pump in the back yard. There were no screens on the windows. There was an outhouse close by the garden fence. The road was dirt - mud when it rained. There were no books but there were always the stories.My brother and I would not go to bed unless Daddy told us a story. I learned later that some were traditional fables. Others he just made up but they were all new to us.My father was a story teller. There were many around. In a semi-literate society, that was the way family and community history was preserved. When my uncles came to visit, there were always sessions around the table after supper or on the front porch. I was always allowed to listen. Not only did I pick up a lot of information, I also learned how to tell a good story, a talent I have found useful throughout the years. At a book signing some years ago, a woman asked me what my philosophy of writing was. She was offended when I replied, "e,Ma'am, I'm just trying to tell a good story."e,Now where did these fourteen tales come from? Some are true, some have an element of truth in them, four are chapters from a novel in progress, others just came into my mind and led me on a writing journey. But they are all fiction---more or less. That is not to say that some of these did not happen to some people at some time in some place. Nevertheless, they are still fiction.
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ISBN-13
978-1-59095-501-7 (9781590955017)
Schweitzer Klassifikation
Dr. Lucas G. "Luke" Boyd first saw the light of day in a three-room shot gun house on Jabe Dunnaway's place near Anguilla, Mississippi. Doc Smith, his uncle and country doctor, was the attending physician. It was the depths of the Depression. His father had lost his livelihood and had returned to the land to feed his family. However, within a few years, he was managing one of those sprawling, 2,000-plus acre cotton plantations The Delta was known for. This plantation culture of his early years left an indelible mark on his son.A stroke of good fortune resulted in a scholarship to be one of the equipment managers for the football team, allowing him to attend The University of Mississippi, where he earned a B.S. degree. During his career he attended a total of five universities, two more of which saw fit to grant him degrees: Middle Tennessee State University (M.S.), The University of Tennessee (Ph.D. in English History.) Stints at The University of North Carolina and The University of Chattanooga were for special study in Economics and Far Eastern History, respectively.He entered the Army through the ROTC program and served for two years as a 1st Lt. in an armored unit.After leaving the service, he began a career in education which spanned 48 years both at the secondary and college levels. He retired after serving for 19 years as Principal of Battle Ground Academy, a private college preparatory school in Franklin, Tennessee.His publishing credits include: four books, Coon Dogs and Outhouses, Vol. I, Vol II, and Vol III; Don't Call Me Hero (ghost writer), The Story of a WW II Bomber Pilot; 9 short stories; one article in the Tennessee Encyclopedia of History and Culture. He currently writes regular columns for a local newspaper, The Williamson Herald.He and his wife, Sara, have been married for 64 years and have two children and two grandchildren. They live in Franklin, Tennessee.
