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Wouldn't Take Nothin' For My Journey Now
Wouldn't Take Nothin' For My Journey Now
Wouldn't Take Nothin' For My Journey Now
Ebook259 pages2 hours

Wouldn't Take Nothin' For My Journey Now

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In the isolated North Carolina mountains, old-timers relive their lives in bits and pieces. They tell of a time when working together as a family was fun, when pleasures were simple, and when a handshake made a deal. Lauterer introduces thirty-five mountain folk whose memories and experiences bridge two centuries, a generation whose moral values and skills are fast becoming obsolete, a people who give the South and American its deeply rooted heritage.

Originally published in 1980.

A UNC Press Enduring Edition -- UNC Press Enduring Editions use the latest in digital technology to make available again books from our distinguished backlist that were previously out of print. These editions are published unaltered from the original, and are presented in affordable paperback formats, bringing readers both historical and cultural value.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 25, 2018
ISBN9780807874110
Wouldn't Take Nothin' For My Journey Now
Author

Jock Lauterer

Jock Lauterer is lecturer in journalism at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and founding director of the Carolina Community Media Project at the university's School of Journalism and Mass Communication.

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    Book preview

    Wouldn't Take Nothin' For My Journey Now - Jock Lauterer

    George Robertson

    George Robertson lived on the Bostic highway near Sunshine. He was eighty-seven, but he still worked his yard and land as he had always done. Farmed all my life, he said. Ain’t been nary a year but I farmed.

    His family had tilled the same property for four generations. I was born down in that cabin yonder, he said, walking toward the log cabin across the field. Ain’t no telling how old that house is, but I’d guess it’s near two hundred years old. I was born down there. 1884. The last of eleven of us. Never lived nowhere else. Farmed the whole time. Pausing for breath, he gazed out from beneath a felt hat, hands crossed across his

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