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The big rock back step was our favorite place to sit and shell butter beans in the cool of the afternoon. And the finished produce? Nothing tasted so good as fresh butter beans, pinkish-grey in color and flavored with seasoned meat. Makes me long for a mess of butter beans right now.

But my most vivid memory is my first encounter with chiggers. One of the first summers I spent in the Brim Hollow I experienced the mother of all cases of chiggers. Today we would call what I had an 鈥渋nfestation.鈥� In those days people called it a 鈥渃ase鈥� of the chiggers. People would say, 鈥淗e鈥檚 got a 鈥榞ood鈥� or 鈥榖ad鈥� case of the chiggers.鈥� Either 鈥済ood鈥� or 鈥渂ad鈥� meant bad.

I learned first-hand that a large number of chigger bites concentrated in a small area could inflict some serious pain on a boy in very sensitive places. When I found myself in such a grievous situation, Granny Lena would put a spoonful of fried meat grease in a fruit jar lid and send me to the privacy of the next room to anoint myself. I also learned that if you had scratched the top off the chigger bites the fried meat grease burned like fire until it began to sooth.

Because of my past experiences, I have no love lost for chiggers.

Back in those days a boy ran bare footed from the first warm day of spring until beyond the first frost. One pair of shoes was good for a winter 鈥� or two. In my barefooted days I stepped on honey bees, rusty nails, broken glass, prickly pears, cockle burrs, thorns, briars, sharp rocks, fodder worms, stinging weeds and you name it. By the time fall rolled around the bottoms of my feet were as brown as the top of a biscuit and as tough as shoe leather. Of course, barefooted boys were susceptible to certain parasites.

One summer, upon arriving in the Brim Hollow for a two week stay, I began to complain of the belly ache on the second day. After observing my laying around and moaning and groaning for a day or two, my Pa Rube pronounced his diagnosis.

鈥淚 believe he鈥檚 wormy,鈥� he declared to Granny Lena, 鈥淎nd I鈥檝e got just the cure.鈥�

The next morning he headed up the hollow to where he knew a patch of wild garlic grew. He returned shortly with a brown paper sack filled with bulbs of wild garlic. As he dumped the contents of the sack out on the table, I noticed that the bulbs ranged in size from a golf ball to a small tangerine. He took one of the larger ones, cut the tops out of it, removed the roots and cleaned it. Then he handed it to me and said, 鈥淗ere, eat this.鈥�

I adored my Pa Rube. Anything he told me to do, I would try. I took the bulb of garlic and bit into it like I was eating an apple. I learned two things in an instant. Wild garlic tastes like a bitter onion, and it is hot as blazes!

I managed to get the first bite chewed up and swallowed. Then I began my protest.

鈥淧a, I can鈥檛!鈥� I cried.

鈥淵es, you can!鈥� he countered.

鈥淚 can鈥檛!鈥� I continued.

鈥淵ou鈥檝e got to eat it all! It鈥檚 the only way you can get better!鈥� he insisted.

Handing me a cold biscuit, he said, 鈥淗ere try this biscuit with it.鈥�

It was easier to stomach with a biscuit. I managed to get the whole thing down. The next morning I ate three biscuits with my garlic.

For the next seven days I woke up every morning to chase down wild garlic with a biscuit.

After checking the slop jar on the third day, Granny Lena announced that progress was being made. She had seen visual evidence that the stomach worms had decided to get out of town. I must admit I could not blame them for vacating the premises. That wild garlic was killing me.

On the seventh day I was pronounced cured, my gastro-intestinal tract free of any unwanted inhabitants.

And my belly? It did not hurt one time for the remainder of the summer.

I would not have admitted it if it had.

And so, I learned, in those summers in the Brim Hollow, of the wonders of home remedies, and of the curative qualities of fried meat grease and wild garlic.

I鈥檒l bet we would be healthier and happier today if we employed more home remedies. I鈥檒l bet our health costs would go down as well.