I never lived in Fulton County and didn't visit much, so my memories are few. I was over on Maple Street in Canton visiting when a tornado struck. It left a mile wide path and the city in a mess. To hear TV reporters tell it, the storm demolished 50% of Fulton County. It didn't, but I think IH had a lot of damage that year. The thing that amazed me the most was that the hospital was fine - and they had power! About 35 years ago I used to hang out at the home of Hobe and Anna Berry. They lived in Canton not too far from the old Kentucky Fried Chicken building. I don't even remember the route number that ran in front of the KFC store, I just remember the street in front of it was as busy then as it was five years ago. We'd all go fishing in one of the old strip mines. Hobe knew where every fish was biting in the county, and what bait to use in which fishin' hole. Annie hated to take fish off the hook and I hated to touch a worm. Hobe had a wicked sense of humor. If Annie and I went along, we used worms - and he'd laugh. She and I invented the original "bait and switch" scheme. She'd "bait" and I'd remove, and then we'd "switch" poles. Sooner or later we'd go back to their house with a mess of fish. Annie was a fine cook and after dinner we'd sit around outside under the old maple tree and play Pitch until it was too dark to see. It was there in that backyard early one cold spring day that Hobe introduced me to a horseradish root and then took me inside and taught me how to make the stuff. They were just old country folks but there wasn't much those two didn't know how to do. I asked Hobe once why he didn't use the garage. "Can't," he said, "It's filled with newspapers. Sure enough, Annie had newspapers stashed away that were at least 50 years old and filled with Fulton County history. I wish I had them now. I remember Clyde Ludlam's grocery store, and Maid-Rite sandwiches in Canton, and the first time my father took me to the Indian burial grounds in Lewistown when I was a little kid. The dig was under a huge canvas tent then. What I remember was the dank smell, darkness. and I was hot. I didn't understand what the fuss was about, but then, my dad was next to me - and not on public display. I remember the first time I ever met my cousin. She was one of the cooks at the school in Smithfield during Spoon River Drive. I wish I could remember the exact recipe for their noodles that was hanging on the wall. The recipe calls for dozens of eggs, tons of flour, gallons of water, a pound of salt and thirteen women with sharp knives. I left the school with dinner that night for four and stopped at Dairy Queen for a late lunch. Next to Day & Palin's porkchop sandwich, which I worship, I like the Lewistown DQ Pork Tendrloin sandwich best. It was one of those hot fall Illinois days and the AC was running. I was reading the newspaper and resting as I had a long day of shopping at the school. I just finished eating when some foolish girl decided to show her friend how her can of "Pepper Spray" worked. It did. It got stuck and the whole place turned to pandemonium. I couldn't believe how fast the manager moved to open doors and help people outside. The cops came, the fire department came, and then came the ambulance. The girl didn't get a ticket, but she got a lecture from the store manager that she will probably never forget. She had single-handedly managed to empty a nearly full building in less than three minutes. Other than my eyes burning a little I had no ill effects. I was one of the lucky ones sitting up front near the cash register. The manager wasn't so lucky. He had a sick employee, and had to close the store for the rest of the day because the stuff was in his AC system. I remember the fresh pressed applecider for sale at the apple orchard on Waterford Road, Don Tron's animated antique lamp shade, and the first time I realized what the term "feed lot" really meant. I'm a city person. I had the windows down and the dog with me that day. She rooted and rubbed her nose on the seat for thirty minutes. It was the only time in my life that I actually wished I had hit a skunk.