Illusory freedom

You know I remember when I was a little kid, trailing my daddy up to the still through those mountain winters. I suppose I knew then that what he was doing was contrary to somebody’s law, but my granddaddy and his daddy before him and so on clear back to Ireland, they held that what a man did on his own land was his business. They didn’t have any noble notions of course. Still don’t. When they came here, fought for this country, scratched up the hills with their plows and skinny mules, they did it to guarantee the basics rights of free men. They just figured that whiskey makin’ was one of ‘em.

~ Jim Mitchum, Thunder Road

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