Friday night lights of my childhood

I remember Friday's in fall up that old country road where I grew up. We'd come home from school and walk up the holler (yes, we called it a holler - not a hollow) anxious for our weekend to begin. We would hurry home and toss our books on our bed and head for the kitchen. Mom would be in there making supper so we could eat at 4:00 after Daddy got home.

It was a cool, crisp day. We would watch for Dad to walk up the road and hurry to meet him. Once he rounded the curve at Ruby's house, we were allowed to go into the road and walk and meet him. On Fridays there was always the thrill and excitement of who got to go to the local high school football game with him. Sometimes one of us would go and sometimes two of us. Nobody was allowed to go if we played Huntington High because there was always a threat of violence when we played them.

It was always a thrill to be picked as the one who went. I can remember many a fall evenings setting up on that very top bleacher, drinking hot chocolate and eating popcorn and hot dogs while we cheered our Barboursville Pirates to victory.

But it was also a thrill to be the one left at home as well. Barboursville was a small town nestled in the hills. Our "holler" was about a mile away and we would go out in the yard and hear the cheer of the crowds and the sounds of the band. We would stay outside until dark. If Jack and Andy were there, they would play their own football game, tackling and passing and enjoying romping around in the yard. If Rachel and I were there or if I was by myself, we would do our cheers.

Mom would soon call us in and we would take our baths and get ready for bed. As we would snuggle into the living room to watch TV, she would make homemade hot chocolate. She would mix Hershey's cocoa and sugar to a sauce like stage and add milk for the best hot chocolate in the world. Then she would top each steaming mug off with 2 or 3 big fluffy marshmallows. She would bring us that and Saps Glazed Donuts for our snack as we waited for Daddy to get home so we could hear who won the game. If you were lucky enough to go to the game, you were cold as could be by the time you walked over a mile back home after the game. But you didn't mind the long walk because you knew Mom would have you hot chocolate and donuts waiting when you got back.

Many years have passed since then. The old school was torn down, but the football field still remains. My brother still lives in the old home place and ball games are still played in that old yard. On cool, crisp Fridays, my mind still goes back up that old country road to those wonderful Friday nights. And if I sit quietly and listen real hard, I can still hear those fans cheering their Pirates to Victory.