Editor's note: The original version of this column was published May 20, 2001.

A secret of sorts floats through the rural hollows of the Ozark Mountains. Before making it known, I need to set the scene as I recently found it in a place known to many locals as the Bergman Holler.

The hollow lies a few miles off Arkansas 7 between Lead Hill and Harrison. You get there by turning off the highway at tiny Bergman across from the high school onto a road that winds back into the densely forested hills. You cross the dual railroad tracks and finally reach a hidden world of older houses and dilapidated mobile homes.

A few of these homes reflect obvious pride of ownership. Their yards are mown and there are no abandoned cars or castoff appliances rusting in the front or back.

But the deeper you drive, the more you see what life is like for most who occupy these clannish valleys. Back here where wild game still flourishes and water comes from a well, you meet those who openly boast of being "rednecked."

One home here that holds my fascination had been constructed of castoff lumber, assorted drywall and whatever else they could find at the time. A small deck encircles the front door. The deck, with its umbrella table, overlooks an........

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