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This story has light adult content and a few dirty words! It is written purely from my imagination even though I did leave home at twelve years old. It was a dream of mine, to meet someone like Bill McGee who would really cared.
At age twelve I ran away for good; Mode of transportation, my thumb. I was hired to fix truck flats in a Mississippi truck stop working for three dollars a day, twelve hour shifts, seven days a week where I lived in the storage room for almost two years. That's where I learned to drive a big rig, bringing them around to the service bay, and back to the parking lot.
In 1964, I became a Carney at age 14 and worked for Royal American shows, winter grounds in Tampa Florida.
At 15, I was married. My one and only son was born and a few months later. I thumbed to Portales N.M. from Florida and worked the wheat harvest that year ending up on the streets of New Orleans where I spent time living in a cardboard box behind Camp Street Inn, in New Orleans La. the winter of 1967.
In February of 1968, I crawled out of the cardboard box one morning and started walking towards Mobile Al. eating out of winter gardens along the road with a new plan.
I went to a mission in Mobile where I cleaned up and was given clothes. Then I caught a truck to Tullahoma, Tennessee because I needed my mothers signature to enlist in the Army. I was seventeen years old. My wife divorced me after she discovered I joined the military.
Twenty years later, I came back to the mountain above where I grew up, staring into the valley below I wrote the song Hawkins Cove on my beer sack sitting on the steps at the foot of the, "The Cross." A monument standing on Sewanee Mountain outside of the town. A monument for the American soldiers that served in the American Wars since World War One.