Back in the days when work was bone-deep hard and money was so scarce that people often barded for necessities, Mama recalled many stories of that time.
Like most teenagers, I half listened but asked questions to be polite.
“Down this road,” Mama pointed at worn-out asphalt that had once been red dust in summer then ankle deep in mud during winter, “I’d walk miles, with a basket of fresh eggs or a c…