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Back in the 1940s, when my grandpa (and probably yours too) was just a boy running barefoot through these same Blue Ridge Mountains, things were simpler. The old men, those weathered calloused handed giants of faith, were real men. They got up before dawn to work the farms, the mills, the coal mines, or the family businesses. They provided for their households with honest sweat and a quiet determination that said, “I will not fail my family or my God.” They protected what was