My life began Seventy years ago on a hill in Mississippi and I’ve been living on hills ever since.

I’m pretty sure God knew what he was doing when he placed me on that first hill that my mother called Oak Hill Farm.

At night I could look up and almost touch the stars. Whippoorwills, crickets and frogs called out from the creek and woods below.

It was a magical place for a child.

Then I grew up, fell in love and married the girl of my dreams. We settled down on a nearby hill we called Tin Top Ridge. Our home was an old tenant house with a rusty tin roof. Calling it a fixer upper wouldn’t begin to describe it.

Oh the memories that were made in that little house built upon sandstone rocks over a hundred years ago.

Opportunity knocked and we moved north to Western Kentucky. After a brief stay in a one room apartment we purchased a small house where we reared our three daughters.

In winter we could look down on the Ohio. In summer we could hear calliope music played from paddle wheels plying up river. 4th of Julys would find us climbing onto the garage roof out back and watching fireworks shooting into the night sky from Noble Park in the distance.

A lot changes took place the year I turned fifty. I acknowledged the fact that I had become an official Kentuckian with deep Mississippi roots that needed memorializing in the books I was compelled to write.

We made what we believed would be our last move to a place called Marshal Ridge in West Paducah and I became a grandfather. A Boo Boo. I hadn’t seen that one coming, but grandchildren always call it like they see it. There are seven of them now.

Marshal Ridge turned out to be as close to Oak Hill Farm as I could have ever imagined. Boys playing basketball in neighboring driveways. Children playing shirtless in the streets - little boys and little girls. We called them Ridge Rats. It reminded me of my days of innocence.

Neighbors inviting neighbors over for get togethers and cookouts.

Young and old walkers and joggers. There were even lawnmower parades.

The airport was close by and we could hear trains blowing their horns as they passed close by day and night. We joked that we had it all on the ridge. We had trains, planes and automobiles.

We watched as the little boys and girls grew up, put on uniforms and cheerleader outfits. One by one those little children became young men and women that went away to universities or began careers.

Now some have children of their own.

It’s been a wonderful place - Another magical place to live. We’ve laid on our backs in the driveway and watched the stars at night. We’ve seen Air Force One, the space station, and a few unknowns pass overhead at night.

It is with mixed emotions we are turning the page and beginning another chapter of our lives.

We have decided to move closer to our daughter and her family. We won’t be on a high hill like the one in Mississippi. It won’t be another ridge or even overlook a river.

It’ll be a home sitting in a place called Rolling Hills - near a golf course and I don’t even play golf.

However, I heard there’s a possibility they may let Tina and I walk the cart paths and trails around our neighborhood that lead to the golf course. We shall see.

We will be about a mile away from family. Close, but not under foot. Our golden years have arrived and we feel blessed.

To our friends and neighbors on Marshall Ridge we will be forever grateful. Thank you for sharing the past twenty years with us.

Thank you for letting us watch your children grow, mature and become young adults.

But most of all, thank you for all the wonderful memories.

Farewell.

_______________
Rick Algood
October 8, 2022