I don't know if you read any of my posts, detailing what are fond memories of experiences I had with the hillbilly side of my family, on my Dad's side.
My "Grampy" would take me to hootenannies way out in the sticks, at farm houses where the furniture was cleared to form a stage, for hours long continuous bluegrass jams. Grampy would take his place on stage from time to time with his beloved fiddle. Although he could play the banjo, it was his fiddling that would bring applause.
He would let me sip a little of his Falstaff beer as a youngster but tell me "now don't let your parents know I let you".
He was a hoot. With only a 6th grade education, he could beat anyone at scrabble because he had an obsession with reading and memorizing words and correct usage from his unabridged dictionary that sat on his desk.
His use of hillbilly vernacular mixed on occasion with some "highfalutin" words, was entertaining and bizarre.
He would collect greens in the forest, berries, knew countless springs to collect water and gather watercress for salads, and was an avid gardener so as he would say "I never want to starve to death".
The depression era obviously had a lasting effect on his worldview, as he would bring home the smallest perch he would catch from the various creeks and rivers in the Ozarks, and continued to on occasion bring home a squirrel.
My dad would scold him for hanging out with his moonshine buddies, and occasionally bringing a big glass jar full of it home with him, telling him that someday "he is going to blow the house up".
He was definitely one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. A lowly hillbilly!