This mountain of my youth called “Big Face” was friend and protector of our lovely valley. As a boy I ran on bare feet across the green meadow with arms outstretched, yearning to soar like a bird to circle over the mountain crest. In time I grew big enough to hunt squirrels in the hickory groves in coves on the mountain’s flanks. I hunted rabbits along the edge of the fields and for the fun of it climbed to the mountain top where an old pioneer’s cabin rotted away.
In far off lands like Luzon Island, Korea, and Vietnam I dreamed of this mountain and the valley of my youth. To this mountain I brought a bride and we walked up the steep slopes to stand and look far up the mountain chain into distant blue haze.
Though I go now and then to walk leafy trails and recall days of long ago, the green valley and mountain that once were mine are no longer mine to hold. Yet in the chambers of my mind and heart I hear the echoes of an axe chopping wood and as late evening dims the day’s light, I can yet hear Mother’s call, “Bob, come home! It is suppertime!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bob Justus grew up in Rabun County, GA and graduated from Truett McConnell College in Cleveland. He served more than 20 years in the U.S. Air Force before retiring home to the Blue Ridge. A former newspaper columnist, Bob is well-known for his poetic prose, deep knowledge of local history and insightful political commentary. He and his wife, Florine, live in Habersham County, GA.
