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Random post

We didn't have an indoor bathroom in the old camp House in Sloss Hollow where I grew up. We did have running water in the kitchen. Mom was thrilled to have that. Before the city ran pipes to the community, everyone got their water from wells.

Our house had a well with a concrete opening above the ground. The bell assembly had once been attached to that concrete which allowed people to draw their water from deep within the earth. When we got city water, dad shoved a lard can down the opening to keep small critters (or kids) from falling down the well.

My dad preferred Spring water. Each evening in the summer when he got home, he'd walk the 300 yards down the old red-rock road and drink from the spring.  I only drank from the spring when I was THIRSTY. The water bubbling up from the earth was sulfur water. When there are layers of coal just under the topsoil, it's no wonder that some of the springs would be sulfur water.

It smelled and tasted like rotten eggs to me, but my dad was convinced the spring had medicinal properties. I took his word for it.

I have no idea what dredged that memory from deep within the folds of my memory. I don't question the ideas, I simply serve as the scribe.

Here's another mystery – out of over a hundred thousand pictures, I chose the one below at Random. I opened Google photos, put my cursor on the edge, closed my eyes and dragged it downward.

When I opened my eyes, it was one of Jilda and me eating an ice cream cone in Lynchburg, Tennessee seven years ago. 

This post first appeared on Life 101, please read the originial post: here

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