Growing Up Country: Memories of a Country Boy

By Michael McCormick

Living the country life has been enlightening and, at times, very exciting. Poor, yes, but we survived and were stronger for the experience. The best of times were those I spent in the outdoors roaming the woods and wading the streams. Nothing can compare to the glory of God’s creation. Every person needs to feel the soul-filling experience and beauty of God’s handiwork. Try it; you’ll like it!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781639034291

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Early Years

My earliest memory of life began somewhere at three years of age. We lived about seven miles north of a small town called Tracy City, Tennessee. At one time, Tracy was a boomtown, deriving its fame from an abundance of coal and timber. As the years went by, the coal was depleted as was the timber. The railroad withdrew, and Tracy has faded almost to oblivion. We lived in a small house in a sharp curve on a dirt road at a place called Sander’s Crossing. There were seven in our family; my youngest brother, Nelson, was born here before we moved to Spring City, Tennessee.

This area was very rural and our house small. Mother had a washer with an old-fashioned wooden clothes wringer built on the top of the machine. Being so many of us, it seemed like she washed clothes continuously and hung them on a clothesline in the backyard. Back then, children were left to their own devices, and I wandered, at times, a long way from the house. There was an abandoned strip mine about one quarter mile behind the house. The hole was full of water, and the sides of shale rock were very steep. All the boys in the area played and had rock fights at this abandoned mine, and several boys had drowned playing at these mines.

A memory that really stands out was my encounter with a bobcat at this mine, and I might have become a meal if my brother and his playmates had not interceded! After that, I never ventured to the area again. The next memory I recall was my oldest brother, James, climbing a tree to swing from it; then the tree broke, and he fell onto a barbwire fence. He lay on the ground screaming; blood poured out of his knee, and I thought he was dying. I left the other boys with him, and I ran to the house and got Mother. Someone took him to a doctor where they stapled his knee back together. It scared us all, and my brother still has the scar. Brother also had a Daisy BB gun which I would pilfer while he was at school and shoot all his BBs, shooting at birds, cans, and once, my older sister Elizabeth. I received a much-deserved whipping over that episode. I believe at three years of age that BB gun started me on a life of shooting and hunting.

We left Tracy City and Sander’s Crossing around 1952 and moved to Spring City, Tennessee. Father had worked in the coal mines at Tracy City, and at that time, the miners were trying to unionize for better wages, which started a war. Many people were killed and injured, so he decided to leave and try for a job in Spring City.

Chapter 2

Roots

My heritage from the Mccormick side of the family were Scotts and Irish, as was my Grandmother whose maiden name was Holder. Most of the people who settled this great country were Scotts, Irish, English, German, Italian, and Swiss. The Irish and Scotts are a very opinionated, stubborn, and quarrelsome lot and very strong in their religious and political beliefs. They were Church of Christ, and Grandfather was an elder at the Jericho Road Church of Christ in Quebec, Tennessee, which is still in existence. Most of the McCormick clan and relatives are buried there, and that’s where my wife and I will lie.

Grandfather was a man of his hands—tall, strong, and sinewy as only such a man could be. He carpentered, sawmilled, and farmed most of his life and worked briefly at a rock quarry in Doyle, Tennessee. He and Grandmother had nine children, but three of the boys died at an early age. Everyone was expected to, and did, work like slaves from before dawn to after dark. Discipline was very strict and quick. There certainly was no sparing the rod. Grandmother McCormick also was strict but had a soft heart for everyone and had a memory that was amazing, even until she passed away at ninety-four. Grandmother always smelled good as grandmothers do, always neat and clean and sweet. After we moved to Spring City, every summer, my folks would take me back to Tracy City to stay a week or two with both sides of the family, and we did this for many years.

The McCormicks were a hardworking family who grew almost everything they ate. Water was drawn from a well and, of course, the bathroom was an outhouse with the traditional Sears or JC Penney catalogue for one’s behind. There was no electricity inside either, and Grandmother cooked on a woodburning stove, which really heated the kitchen. The house was log and nestled in a beautiful little vale with a small stream running close to the front yard. There was a chicken house, hog pen, and barn for livestock. Corn was grown along the bottom for food and feed. They always had a big garden, and Grandmother canned everything including meat. Milk was kept in a cellar with other perishables. Food was good and wholesome and plenty of it. Just don’t get more than you could eat!

Grandmother sold butter, and her butter molds were of many designs, and her butter was much in demand. Churning milk into whey and butter is a very arduous task, and I sat on the front porch many times to churn, churn, churn. Grandfather never owned a car and only had one TV. On Fridays or Saturdays, he would hitch the mule to a wagon, and off to town we would go. They lived about seven miles out of town, and it seemed to me, it would take all day to arrive. He bought flour, cornmeal, salt, pepper, and sugar for Grandmother, and that was it—no candy, cokes, ice cream, etc. He and a bunch of his cronies would sit on a bench in front of the store, talk about the weather, politics, and crops. It sure was boring to me as I wanted to go fishing or something. But other than the visit to town and church on Sunday, it was work, work, and more work! We would get home about six o’clock, and Grandmother would have a big supper laid out, and she sure knew how to cook! If I had been good, she would fix an apple pie for dessert. This is my father’s side of the family: hardworking, semi-illiterate, proud, and very strong-willed people of the earth who earned their living the hard way.

Chapter 3

Roots II

The Kilgores were Mother’s side of the family; she had two sisters and two brothers. One sister still lives in Tracy City. The Kilgores were of Irish ancestry and Scotts, also English, but I’m sure there was a combination sometimes back. The Kilgores and McCormicks were as different as day to night both in ancestry and socially. They lived almost in the town of Tracy City and lived on about four acres of land with a stream bordering two sides. The house was a two-story with about ten rooms total—beautiful, old house, shaded with old maple trees, and I loved visiting there. The Kilgores were well-educated, and all the children, except Mother, attended college. The house had electricity, running water and, wonder of wonders, an inside bath and toilet! As one might surmise, there was considerable friction between the families due to the different backgrounds. Early pictures showed the Kilgores dressed suits while Father wore overalls with a white shirt. I believe Father always had an inferiority complex being around the Kilgores.

Grandfather Kilgore served in WWI in France and served with distinction. As a kid, I used to prowl in his old war chest and admired the medals and uniform he wore. After being discharged, he went to Texas then back to Tennessee where he ran for county clerk and served three terms before becoming postmaster which office he held until retirement at age seventy.

Grandfather was active in politics and campaigned for Estes Kefauver and served in many civic positions in Tracy City. His youngest son, Buddy, also retired from the postal service. Grandfather was a kind gentleman who cared very much about family, and he started me fishing at an early age. I loved visiting them and playing in the old house and wading in the creek nearby. Grandfather always took the time to talk with me and spend quality moments with me. A great man he was, and I will always miss him.

Grandmother Kilgore was the stricter of the two, and we, boys, could not put much over on her. She was English by ancestry, her mother’s family were Laycocks from London. She too was a good cook, and I loved her biscuits and gravy. As she got older and Grandfather passed, Grandmother started traveling with her daughters and visited us often. Seems like she mellowed out as she got older, and I liked her more, and we had many good conversations together. She, too, will be missed.

Chapter 4

Father

Father grew up under a stern taskmaster and carried more responsibility on his shoulders than a young man should. During the flu epidemic of the 1920s, he was the only one in the family who did not get sick and had to help care for everyone else, three of whom died. I believe Father was twelve or fourteen at that time.

Father plowed and put in a crop with mules or horses plus all the other chores required. Later, he worked in the coal mines, logged, and sawmilled. Father only attended school to the sixth grade and could barely read and write, but he was a very good at his numbers. He and Mother married early, and children started coming regularly, so he had to work very hard to provide. Father was a very impatient man and quick to pull his belt. I believe this was from frustration at not being able to get ahead. He and Mother clashed frequently over money, which was scarce, and this fighting made for a very tense household.

Mother tried to make ends meet, but with five children, a dollar did not go far. She also canned vegetables, and we raised a garden, but still, times were tough. There is an old saying that we were poor but didn’t know it; brother, we knew it!

Father worked in the mines in Spring City then cut logs to supplement the income, eventually going on the road to build roads. Father and Mother divorced when I was twelve, and I became the man of the house.

Chapter 5

Mother

Mother grew up in what one might say a privileged environment as compared to my father’s upbringing. Mother was the apple of her father’s eye and did not want for much. Mother had two sisters, Emma Ruth and Kathryn, and two brothers, George and David. Most of the information I gathered on her early life came from her sisters and mother. Mother was a beautiful woman and did not lack for beaus in her society and age group. Mother was a very opinionated, stubborn, and argumentative woman and, of course, she and Father clashed often. Mother was only about five foot three and 115 pounds, but she always stood her ground.

After marrying Father, she toughened even more as she had to adjust to a different lifestyle. Children came regularly; there were clothes to be washed and ironed, food to be prepared, dishes to be washed, house to be cleaned. All with a child on each hip and one on the way. A rough life and one I don’t believe she ever adjusted to. Mother loved her children and went to great lengths to protect us from the world, but when necessary, she could also yield the switch. Mother worked as hard or harder than Father to make a home and to stretch a dollar, but there was just too much anger and frustration on both parties to make it work, so they divorced in 1961.

We had to move, the four of us, into government housing, which I absolutely hated, but there was no choice. Mother went to work at a grocery store close by, and I picked up odd jobs and cut grass. My oldest brother and sister left and soon married, then my youngest sister married, leaving Mother, my youngest brother, and me.

In her later years,