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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