Although kids growing up in East Tennessee in the 1950s and ’60s didn’t have as much snow as kids in northern states, we had enough to produce hours of fun and adventure.
Our entire family, including Mother and Daddy, bundled up and headed for our favorite sledding hill, located in the cow pasture on Walter Coomer’s farm, across Fort Sumpter Road from my grandfather’s dairy farm. Mr. Coomer’s grandson, Buddy, was always right there with us. We all stayed out until we were soaked to the bone and so cold that we couldn’t even snap our fingers. We had so much
