I would certainly never know the place. It is almost a high class neighborhood now. Still comparatively unsettled; but, a place where people who have the money and resources like to build so that they can "get away from it all" but still be close enough for city conveniences.

The Lem Turner Road of my childhood was anything but "high class".

It is low land which means drainage can be a problem; and, that was especially the case back then in a place where city water and sewage did not reach. Everyone had their own well and cesspool. In addition, the turpentine and timber industries had left the land torn and scarred; but, there was still a lot of wild territory around, something that was not considered particularly desirable in those days.

To the north, the thinly paved road seemed to stretch into a black nothingness except for a little creek somewhere down the road. The dark waters were almost up to the bridge at times; and, at other times, there was just a thin trickle bordered by white banks which looked almost like a beach. The bridge was made out of wood; and, then out of concrete. It is still there.

To the south, somewhere between our place and where Dunn Avenue intersected with Lem Turner, Lem Turner turned into a brick road which went on for a while before turning into black pavement again at some point; but, I don't remember exactly where.

I do remember traveling Lem Turner Road in my parent's old beat up 1946 Chevy truck. I don't think it had a lick of paint on it. We used to call it "Wandering Mary" because my father got lost so easily.

I remember going with him one early morning, I know not where, just that it was just me and him; and, that the early morning sun was such a bright liquid yellow, it made me think of an egg yolk. Every time I see an early morning sun, I think of that early morning sun of so long ago.

It made quite an impression!

We would go to the feed store on the other side of the river (Trout River) to buy laying mash for the chickens; and, sometimes even to buy baby chickens. They had lots of little biddies which they kept in little cages build something like bins. I don't guess the biddies could get out; but, you could reach right in. And there were seed, lots and lots of seed, not just a little bit of seed in little packages like you see nowadays; but, lots and lots of seed in great big bins; and, you bought the seed by the scoopful.

We also bought big bags of flour at the feed store which my mother used to make biscuits and dumplings. People used to eat a lot of bready stuff like that. No one knew anything about "fiber." Besides we probably actually got more fiber than people do today because we ate a lot more vegetables. Vegetables straight from our garden. Home grown tomatoes, everyone knows how good they are! Almost everyone had a garden back then. There wasn't any concern about fat intake; so you could sop your biscuit in as much gravy as you wanted to, or lather it with butter - real homegrown, and homemade, butter! Homemade butter, made from fresh unpasteurized milk, is like homegrown tomatoes,
a taste all its own!

When I became "big enough" I became the family's butter maker. My mother would skim the cream off the top of the milk and put it in a jar. Then I would sit on the porch with the jar and shake it until it made butter. It took a lot of shaking!

My mother would take the cloth from the flour and feed sacks to make my dresses. This didn't bother me. I was not living in a fashion conscious world.

We always bought "Breeze" detergent because, depending upon the size of the box, there would be a free washcloth or towel in it.

Wherever my father took me, to whatever store, what I always wanted to buy was paint, don't ask me why! He would always tell me next trip; and, he managed to keep putting me off til until the notion finally wore off.