“I’m 92. I was born in 1934 in Montrose aided by a midwife who came over before dawn to assist.
When we first moved to our big house that was built around the 1860s, there was no running water, no indoor plumbing, no electricity, and no telephone. We had kerosene lamps and ice delivery. I’d go out to the well and pull up water with a bucket. It was only about 30 feet down.
There were a half-dozen kids in Montrose. I was an only child and a free agent. My mother didn’t mother me in terms of, ‘You can’t do that.’ It was, ‘Come back before dark.’ I’d go down to the bayall day. Our world consisted of Daphne, Montrose, and Fairhope. It was trouble going anywhere else…