To Mom and my sisters,

I hope this brings back as many memories for you as it did for me. I had no idea where Mabry Mill was at on the Parkway; in fact, I had forgotten about it. As I rounded the curve there it was: 1963, the big old white station wagon packed with 4 screaming kids, a Trade Winds tent trailer, bacon, eggs, grits, fresh tomato and cantelope, eaten in the cold morning mist of the mountains, the smell of the campfire mixed with the sweet smell of Dad's pipe, Somores, sharing bunks, fighting over who was sleeping up top and in the back, who's turn was it to go get the water, the guys at the wood stand that a few of you couldn't leave alone, campfire programs, nature hikes and hike to "another waterfall" and watching the storms roll in from atop of Loft Mountain. If only we knew how good it was when we complained about another vacation on the Parkway..........