[August 22, 2024] I’m from the poor Deep South, where I can still find my heart. I relate closely with those living in small towns and on farms, working blue-collar jobs, local volunteers, small church congregations, and truckers. When people ask where I’m from, I say, “I’m from Mer Rouge, Louisiana.” Despite not living there for six decades, it remains my hometown.
Some of the strongest family values and work ethic can be found in these rural small towns. Early on in my young life, I was taught that loyalty to the family, your friends, church, and school were of the highest order. And Jesus is your Savior. You never insult them; if you are an outsider and denigrate any of them, you will have a fight on your hands. If you’re a friend, there might be a fight nevertheless. My first fight ever was with a kid from “the north,” a damned Yankee who said we were a bunch of toothless hillbillies. We weren’t toothless. Later, I discovered he was from Kansas, which was north to me.
One of my earliest recollections was riding my brand-new (but used) red AMF Royal Master bicycle – and without training wheels – to meet with some of my best friends: Steve, Randy, Jerry, and Glen. I skipped training wheels because they were only for little kids, and although I was maybe five years old and little, I refused to be caught riding with “baby wheels.” I’d not yet entered First Grade. Although my Dad had recently given me his dad’s 410 shotgun and had gone hunting a few times, I was not yet allowed to have a BB gun. Mom thought I might shoot my eye out. This was a contradiction often found in Southern families.
My brother and I were very young and unskilled in the ways of life. To ensure our cleanliness, our Mom would bathe us nightly together in the tub and make sure our ears and hair were clean. She would inspect our heads to make sure we didn’t have lice or were infected by some other creatures. We had our hair cut extra close to make it easier to look for lice. The bath water always looked brown, like muddy ditch water when she was done scrubbing us. I didn’t realize it then, but she was patiently teaching us good personal hygiene.
As a preschooler, I couldn’t read, write, or do arithmetic, but I could make money by running errands for the dry goods store owner and finding empty Coke bottles to return for 2 cents each. I didn’t yet know how to make a slingshot or fly a kite, but I could climb tall trees, identify a dozen star constellations, name the president (Dwight D. Eisenhower), and play baseball; we called it “hardball.” I enjoyed candy, which I rarely ate due to family finances and Mom’s insistence that sugar would spoil my appetite. In those early days, my meager earnings went to the purchase of chocolate bars and bags of peanuts.
My memory has faded, but one thing stands out: my brother Philip and sister Terri. They were always there, younger, so Mom’s attention was mostly focused on them. That was good for me. I went anywhere in town I wanted and did what I wanted. “Don’t get in a car with nobody.” That was the only unbreakable rule. And “Be home for dinner.” Everyone ate at the kitchen table, and Dad led the conversation, asking about our day. My focus was on dessert and quickly finishing so I could go outside and play in the yard or watch TV. But I first had to ask for permission to leave the dinner table.
And I loved my Bigmama and Granddaddy with all my heart. Our entire family visited often, and sometimes, if we were fortunate, Mom’s brothers, Junior and Kenneth, would be there with their wives and their kids, my cousins. Then, the real fun would begin. The oldest of our generation, and six years older than me, was Ronna, married at 18. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her sister Elizabeth was a few years younger and beautiful too, but closer to my age, although still a little older.
My Dad’s parents, at the time, lived on a farm in southern Arkansas with cotton fields butting right up to the house. Grandma and Grandpa Satterfield were much older than my Mom’s parents, both born in the late 1800s and yet they worked every day. It was a much further trip for us, so we visited less often and our connection to them was unfortunately weaker. Grandpa worked in a stave mill when he was younger and would talk to me about how to care for your tools, so they would take care of you. Their home was boring because there were never any other kids to play with except my brother and sister and I could do that at home. I missed a great opportunity by not talking with them more.
It was, however, my Mom and Dad who were at the center of my universe. As a little kid, I called them “mama” and “daddy” until I was a teenager and started using more formal titles. Mama was there for me all the time as a stay-at-home mom. She tended my sniffles and rashes; I was allergic to grass, dust, dogs, and cats – everything a kid gets into all day long. I always had a runny nose or something itchy on my skin. And she constantly and patiently cleaned and bandaged my many cuts and scrapes.
I would cry, and she would hug me and send me back outside to play. She was always pushing me out of the nest, which was the right thing for her to do. After her morning coffee, black, no sugar, she would wake us up, make a big breakfast, and shoo me out of the house. She made sure I was dressed, fed, and ready for the day. Then, I was off and running out the screen door, letting it slam behind me as I ran all over town.
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NOTE: See all my letters here: https://www.theleadermaker.com/granddaughter-letters/
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Please read my books:
- “55 Rules for a Good Life,” on Amazon (link here).
Gen. Satterfield, thank you for another letter to your granddaughter. It is now #90, which is far beyond my expectations and I get to see what it is like to be from the Deep South. You are giving us just a small peek inside your youth, and for your granddaughter. I would hope that you write a book on this, and I know others have made the same suggestions. Please do so.
👍👍👍 Yep, new book is what we all want! 👍👍👍
Thank you Gen. Satterfield for a great letter.
LOVE IT … “It was, however, my Mom and Dad who were at the center of my universe. As a little kid, I called them “mama” and “daddy” until I was a teenager and started using more formal titles. Mama was there for me all the time as a stay-at-home mom. She tended my sniffles and rashes; I was allergic to grass, dust, dogs, and cats – everything a kid gets into all day long. I always had a runny nose or something itchy on my skin. And she constantly and patiently cleaned and bandaged my many cuts and scrapes.” – Gen. Doug Satterfield says what needs saying.
Gen. Satterfield, once again I have to say “well done!” A neat concise letter to your granddaughter who will learn so much from your experiences as a child (I assume near your age at 8 or 9). Please accept my profound appreciation for your letters. I find them mostly entertaining and enticing too. I hope you continue to write them beyond 100 or find a similar great subject to write a series about.
William, I believe most of us think that way and yes, Gen. Satterfield will always find another subject. But I have to admit this series is the best so far.
True!
I look forward to each day, each morning when I wake up to read his blog. thank you all for acknowledging the value of Gen. Satterfield.
😎 Sir, great letter to your granddaughter. 👩👦 Please write more for us. ✌ We love all your love letters. 💌 Keep them coming our way. 🤵 There is nothing like getting a letter you can hold in your hand as a child. ❤ We love your letters and thank you over and over for a wish that there are more letters. 👀 THANKS!!!!! 👍
Beautiful love letter. Sir, thank you and I’m sure your granddaughter thanks you as well.
I’m one of the original readers and commentators of this blog and I want to say to all that read it, thank you for being loyal readers. I’m sure that Gen. Satterfield appreciates the responses to his letters to his granddaughter. And, yes, upcoming is the 11th anniversary of this blog, which began shortly before he retired as a General in the US Army.
I certainly enjoyed this letter to Gen. Satterfield’s granddaughter and I’m sure she is enjoying them too. What I really like about this letter is that we are reading about Gen. S as a very young boy who grew up in the deep south and in a poor area (although he says he was ‘rich’). These are very entertaining and informative letters and I hope the series continues beyond 100 (as was originally promised). The letters make me think back to my childhood and those that made me a better person too. BTW, if anyone is new here, I suggest they get a copy of Gen. Satterfield’s book “55 Rules for a Good Life” – link here: https://www.amazon.com/55-Rules-Good-Life-Responsibility/dp/1737915529/ You will find that book a take off from these letters. Gen. Satterfield is a good Christian man, Soldier, Father, Grandfather, American Patriot, and those things that make good men who they are. Please sir, continue your letters beyond 100 and help us see more about you and what made you into the successful Army officer you were.
Max, excellent points here and I will support the idea, also, that Gen.S. put these letters into a book. Now that would be one that I would read.
Max and Bryan, these letters are more than enjoyment, of course you would agree, they are a peek inside the life of a man who is successful. One thing we know today is that if you are not as successful in life that you might want, then look at how others (who are successful) are doing what they are doing. that is an insight to success. Don’t overlook how others have accomplished what they accomplished.
Well said, great letters.
Great letter and thanks!!!!!!!
As I understand it from earlier letters and posts by Gen. S., his grandparents were born in the late 1800s from the Satterfield side and the early 1900s from the Smith side.👍 Interesting that we are talking about them more than 120 years later. Wow. And how much those times influence these times. ❤ Thank you, Gen. Satterfield for your love letters to your granddaughter. 💌
… and there you have it. We now know more about where Gen. Satterfield came from and his acknowledgement that he still has his heart in Mer Rouge, La.
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“I’m from the poor Deep South, where I can still find my heart. I relate closely with those living in small towns and on farms, working blue-collar jobs, local volunteers, small church congregations, and truckers. When people ask where I’m from, I say, “I’m from Mer Rouge, Louisiana.” Despite not living there for six decades, it remains my hometown.”
Yep, good note, Tommie. I’m on board with Gen. Satterfield that our past helps us determine our future, but our past only provides opportunities and skills for our future, not a done deal. We still have our own free ability to make decisions.
Good comments, guys!. l
❤❤❤❤❤❤ A love letter properly written. ❤❤❤❤❤❤
I wake up to my favorite article series, Gen. Satterfield and his “Letters to My Granddaughter.” 👍
The only sad part about reading this letter to Gen. Satterfield’s granddaughter is that it is #90 and the series comes to an end at 100. I’ve enjoyed the ride with Gen. Satterfield as a little boy and it was wonderful and insightful and I got to share his adventures.
Ron, so true! I’m still enjoying them, and not looking forward to the last one which should be early October at the rate Gen. Doug Satterfield is publishing these letters.
https://www.theleadermaker.com/granddaughter-letters/
Thanks all, you were faster posting that we are also seeing the end of the most successful series on Gen. Satterfield’s blog ever. If I’m not mistaken, this September will be the 11th anniversary of his blog and I wonder if he will be starting a newer series at that time. I love these letters and I know that many have asked that he turn them into a book. He is yet to commit but I too recommend it. Now, imagine a book of letters like this. Hmmmmmm. It would be a treasure, indeed.
💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌
Well said, Melissa.
Thanks bottom feeder, oh, weird name.