My Granddaddy died in 1962 as a poor farmer in Boaz. I was 5 at the time. They had him laid out in the living room in a wooden casket for 2 days. People would just drop by with food and see granddaddy.


It's not a Passion, it's an Obsession. That's what I tell my wife, but she promptly informs it's a disease to which is incurable.