From my Memoirs:
When your pedigree and bloodlines link Hoosier Agrarian with Kentucky Hilljack... It's difficult to approach life with great expectations.
While other children had grandmas and grandpas, I had a mamaw and papaw, and I didn't know why.
I grew up believing Miracle Whip was mayonnaise and Velveeta was cheese. Before leaving grammar school I had consumed more cream of mushroom soup that Joseph A Campbell ever intended. Exotic Italian cuisine was singularly tied with the name Boyardee, and dining out meant sitting in a car, balancing a hamburger and fries in my lap.
My mother had no driver's license, and I didn't know why.
I valued what the rich kids had... A swimming membership at Green Hills. But my parents valued wall-to-wall carpeting. I swam not.
I craved popularity but didn't fit in. My classmates were chic, polished, and sophisticated... They were Prime Rib, and I was a can of Spam.
I was full-blooded redneck, but with none of the toughness.
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