I absolutely loved this book. The writing is so descriptive that you feel as if you have stepped into a Norman Rockwell picture. The author gives us a glimpse into his family and his ancestors that came before him. Each generation passed along stories from long ago and then added more of their own.
Jimmy’s Pa was the story teller for his family. Jimmy could sit for hours and listen to his family’s history. Many nights would find him down in the basement where his Pa slept, sitting by the fire, and listening to all the old story’s his Pa had to tell.
Growing up in the South was heaven for Jimmy. His mom and dad were not rich people but always managed to provide for their needs. As a child he learned to hunt, fish, gig for frogs and how to have fun in ways that city kids would never know.
When he was given two hound dogs he couldn’t image that life could get any better. To this reviewer Jimmy Blackmon is the epitome of a true Southern boy. I have never read a book where the author has loved where he grew up and the people in his life more than Jimmy Blackmon. It is with the author’s words that I end this.
“Roots are the place where something begins, where it springs into being. Roots anchor things. They provide strength and nourishment. My roots are my ancestors. Each generation influenced the next. I am a reflection of those who came before me. My roots anchor me. Mine are Southern.”