When I was 9 years old, I spent spring break with my grandparents in their humble mountain abode. During that week, I got a real shiner in a yard game of baseball by being a catcher who stood too close to the batter. I also developed a love for buttermilk biscuits with homemade jelly. And, on Saturday night, I took my only bath of the week in a tin tub, in the middle of the rickety, drafty kitchen.