My mom's side are hillbilly types from eastern KY, blue collar types. Grandpa on that side was a heavy machine operator and woodworker. He bought 100 acres of land in the mid 80s and built a 2 story log cabin along with his brother and cousin on this land. My grandmother kept a journal, describing what was going on month to month with the construction. Totally mindblowing reading about these men working on this thing. My fondest memory as a child was helping those "mountain men" mix the cement to put between the logs. These men felt like fucking super heroes to me.
That's fantastic, all of it.
It became a place where the men in the family would go for different hunting seasons. You drive on a dirt road a couple miles off the main road just to reach the cabin. A truly magical place. My grandpa passed earlier this year. He left such a great part of him here.
You were really lucky, very few children have an experience like that (as I mentioned, my Grandpa was a drunk and my dad was never around, hardly knew him he worked so much, and didn't care much for me). Congrats.
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