In the mid-forties, we lived on Valley Street and one of our neighbors was Jim McDaniel, a loud, blustery character then in his sixties. He usually wore bib overalls, as did most of the men and boys at that time, and in the summer he went barefoot. It was told that another man once invited Jim to ride with him on a short trip to the mountains. They left very early and by breakfast time they were in Chimney Rock, where they stopped to eat. Jim ordered ham and eggs, grits, fried potatoes, a stack of flapjacks, sausage gravy over biscuits, some cheese, toast and jelly, and coffee. The waitress asked him, “How do you like your eggs?” Jim replied enthusiastically, “God, I like ’em!”
When I was about around six or so, my daddy often took me to Rob Sparks’ barbershop for haircuts. There were two barbershops in town, side by side, the other one run by Pick Biggerstaff. They both had old-timey revolving barber poles mounted outside, and fully-manned shoe shine stands. Daddy asked Rob to sell him some hair tonic (Jeris was a very popular brand then). We didn’t need a full bottle, so Rob poured us about half a pint into an empty whiskey bottle. I was scared to death that we would be arrested before we got home.