West Shawmut, Ala. 1954 a kinder, gentler, more peaceful time in life and society. (Gas was 22 cents a gallon). This is a community memoir chronicling, detailing, reflecting upon some of those memorable events, experiences, adventures of youthful yesterdays. West Shawmut, Ala. A nondescript, smalltown, quaint, folksy community nestled in southeastern Sweet Home Alabama not even a dot on the Ala. Map but yet a village haven of genuine love, hope, dreams, and aspirations for its perhaps 1,000 inhabitants. "It's not too far from the West Point, Ga. Kia automotive plant. A hoot, hollar, and a skip from Valley, Ala." Submerged in the heart of backwoods Chambers County right across the Georgia/Alabama boundary line and the Chattahoochee River resides the West Shawmut community. "In Spite Of!" is a time captured portrait of humble beginnings transformed to hardworking determination, overcoming impoverished circumstances with academic achievement, and obstacles overturned by divine intervention and fate. Kerry "The Hawk" Meadows transports the reader to a kinder, gentler, more peaceful time in life, to a quiet leave your door open community of neighborly downhome homegrown genuine "sit on the front porch" Yall sit a spell" real folks. The detailed imagery is steeped in thoughtful homespun language and old school relics as old as rabbit ear antennae wrapped in aluminum foil, outhouses, and 8 track cassette tapes. **In Spite Of! ... But Because Of!** A Community Memoir By Kerry "The Hawk" Meadows Trafford Publishing Copyright © 2017 Kerry "The Hawk" Meadows All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4907-7911-9 CHAPTER 1 Humble Beginnings COLE LINE Cole Line, USA. West Shawmut, Alabama. 1954. An assembly line, cookie-cutter sheet of three-room shotgun shack, sardine can, see straight through shanties, packed matchbox houses. A tin top, wooden frame, tenement community of twenty or more row houses strung together in da hood of West Shawmut, Alabama, deep south Lower Alabama below the Mason Dixon line right across the Chattahoochee River, not even a small dot on the "Sweet Home Alabama" map. West Shawmut, the loving, nurturing, and caring community village in which I was raised, thrived and mentored to believe and achieve. This is one black community's memoir of struggle, hope, love, decline, restoration, triumph, victory, and generational reconstruction restoration. One of my fondest and earliest life memories was that of me at around three years old sitting up under a gigantic oak tree in our front yard on Cole Line "playing teacher" with my Big sister Betty. Of course, Betty was the almighty, authoritative, all-knowing, stern teacher with her ruler-rod in hand looking mean and tough. I, as Betty's willing student, sat attentively focused, concentrating upon her every instruction or correction. All Betty lacked was some eyeglasses and an old-fashioned bun hairstyle to complete her schoolmarm character look. She already looked and acted the part of a strict schoolteacher in every sense of the concept. This was the very beginning of my growing, thirsty, hunger love for knowledge. "Kerry, you're going to learn how to read or I'm going to spank those legs." Betty meant business. I sat erect. "Yes, mam," I answered obediently in my best schoolboy voice. I was wearing shorts and definitely didn't want to feel the scorpion sting of Betty's ruler. Betty was a stern taskmaster who expected excellence returned from every school lesson she taught. CHAPTER 2 First Teacher's Lessons IN SPITE OF Of course, there are those who would vehemently argue that your mother is always your first teacher, but I had to somewhat swerve from that course. Mama was usually overwhelmed with maternal responsibilities of taking care of my elder brother Roger who had been born with the birth defect of cerebral palsy, the year before in 1953. Being naturally bright and discovery minded, I was often left to fend for myself early in life. When I was three years old, my Big sister had the bold, bright idea to play school teacher with me. She was thirteen years old and a tough teacher and taskmaster who enjoyed spanking me on my legs and hand when I didn't get something right or do it just the correct way she wanted me to. Very early, Betty taught me the lesson of doing a thing over and over until you got it right. Mama would often tell me, "Son, if you have time to do it wrong, you have time to do it over." This went from making the bed to sweeping the floor. Between Betty and Mama, I quickly learned and applied valuable early age lessons of diligence, industry, perseverance, and achievement. Betty was a brilliant student herself, only receiving all A's in every subject area. Learning came very easy for her. She was naturally gifted. My brilliant Big sister recognized early that I too was an eager beaver and sponge learner. I soaked up knowledge and mastered academic concepts with ease. Super thanks to Big Sister Betty's strict nur