Lookey here...I can only tell ya what I know…
It was a cool night under the light of a full “worm moon” when Buck Bald came squallerin’ into this world. The youngest of 12, ‘doc said he was so small the angels couldn’t plant a hair on his head. Reckon that bein’ the reason his ma gave him the name Buck Bald.
Buck took a likin’ to straw hats, and as he grew so did his hats. He would say they protected his thoughts from bein’ ‘vaporated by the hot Georgia sun.
He finished his learnin’ and after a few odd jobs, Buck figured he wanted to be his own boss, one of those "entra-par-newers"...I think they call them.
He started fiddlin’ around with fermentation and recipes for brewin’ his own beer. His friends were always happy to drink a few and tell him if they was any good. Many a full moon they would gather behind Bucks place and whoop and holler when one of Bucks best was passed around. Buck just would lean back and smile.
He knew he was gonna sell a lot of beer... maybe make hisself a wealthy man...Naw, he already was! He had a job he loved and family and friends that made him the richest man on earth. So Ya’ll see hear now; Buck puts his heart and soul into his brews, THAT’S what makes them special. Now go on! Get outta here! Go grab a few of Buck’s brews so you can see what I mean.
Story By: Monica Godby
Edited By: Patrick Keenan