It’s funny how life works out.

I grew up on a dirt road, in a rural community outside Jacksonville, N.C. called Southwest, not far from a settlement called Nine-Mile, where you could A) Buy moonshine straight from the source and/or B) Get shot on a Saturday night.

I was three when we arrived, and don’t remember any earlier home. For my brothers, sister and I, who were too young to drink or dodge bullets, excitement consisted of picking up discarded soda pop bottles on neighboring Turkey Farm Road. We’d turn them in at Mr. Maready’s general store for two cents each, not a shabby sum when a large Reese’s Cup was only a nickel.

Kids are creative, and we found a lot to do on our isolated dirt road. We were only the second family to move there. The first was Bill and Inez Young. He was retired military and they wanted privacy as much as my parents did, so that worked out well. (We knew they had a daughter named Vicky and two beloved Airedales, and that was it.)

In the summer on our road, we’d draw hopscotch squares, build mud forts and re-enact Custer’s Last Stand (I was always cast as the doomed general because of my curly yellow hair.) We took armfuls of tall, fragile cattails home to Mama, followed deer tracks and caught tadpoles in ditches that always seemed to be flooded.

We found things on that dirt road—women’s high-heeled shoes, abandoned puppies… and once, a perfect, pearly set of upper dentures. Dad, a tight-fisted Welshman, wanted to place a “found” ad in the Jacksonville Daily News; Mother laughed so hard she had to sit down suddenly and put her head between her legs.

A huge road grader, paid for with county taxes, rumbled through our kingdom a few times each year, smoothing out foot-deep ruts and creating yellow clay foothills for us to merrily climb and fall from.

The “mosquito man” drove down our road several times a summer, spewing yellow clouds of poison. We’d beg our parents to let us follow the mosquito man. They always said yes, and we’d stagger home higher than a Georgia pine. It seems amazing today, but back then nobody said, “Hmmmm, if that stuff kills bugs, maybe we shouldn’t let the kids run behind the truck and breathe it in.”

Our house was only a few miles from town, but it seemed much further to children who had neither car nor autonomy. If we wanted to go to the park, library or anywhere else, we had to wait until Tuesday when Mama ran errands. If didn’t create our own fun, there was nothing to do.

I won’t say the sense of isolation haunted us… but it’s worth noting that as adults, all of us live in bustling towns with shopping centers, entertainment, restaurants and, of course, paved roads.

Well…. almost all of us. Five years ago I wed Widdle and moved to his tiny rural hometown. There’s no grocery store, pharmacy or movie theater, but most of the roads are paved. And, thank God, I have a car that takes me anywhere I want to go.

But I spend most of my time running… on the dirt roads. Just not behind the mosquito man this time.

Like I said, it’s funny how life works out.

Julie R. Smith, whose knees are too bad to run on paved roads, can be reached at widdleswife@aol.com.

Journalscene.com ® is pleased to offer readers the enhanced ability to comment on stories. We expect our readers to engage in lively, yet civil discourse. Journalscene.com ® does not edit user submitted statements and we cannot promise that readers will not occasionally find offensive or inaccurate comments posted in the comments area. Responsibility for the statements posted lies with the person submitting the comment, not Journalscene.com ®. If you find a comment that is objectionable, please click "report abuse" and we will review it for possible removal. Please be reminded, however, that in accordance with our Terms of Use and federal law, we are under no obligation to remove any third party comments posted on our website.

Users can now build user-to-user connections, follow friends' recent posts, add an avatar that fits their personality, and more. If you have posted here before you'll need to sign up again, or if you've never posted before, start now by reading our terms and conditions, and then signing up below!

• Santee Cooper announces 2012 refunding bond sale
• Santee Cooper announces organizational changes in operation and finance departments
• Santee Cooper employees pitch in on Day of Caring
• Aerial herbicide treatment on lakes under way
• Santee Cooper Board Authorizes Rate Study
• Santee Cooper announces refunding bond sale
• Santee Cooper, Florida Municipal Power Agency enter into letter of intent for share of planned V.C. Summer Station units
• Santee Cooper, Duke Energy Carolinas enter into letter of intent for share of planned V.C. Summer Station units 2 and 3