Just a short 40 minute drive from Ricky's mom's house in Stapleton, AL is the little town of Atmore, AL where Ricky was born and bred. Actually, he was born just across the state line in Pensacola, FL, but that was only because WAY back then there was no hospital in Atmore. On the outskirts of town is a tiny cemetery where Ricky's dad and his grandparent's are buried. Across the street from that cemetery is the home of the nicest little 80-something southern gentleman named Mr. Ward who loves to grow blueberries but doesn't love to pick them. Saturday afternoon, Grandma Irene, my sister-in-law, Amy, and all ten of the Benham grandchildren accepted Mr. Ward's invitation to pick as many blueberries as we could carry off.
Brant chose a large ice cream container and set to work picking, determined to fill it up with this fruit that he loves. He stayed by my side all afternoon picking while the others played. He didn't eat a single one and wouldn't let me dump any from my bucket into his. He wanted his bowl to be filled with only what he picked. 
The logo on is shirt says "unstoppable" and that's what he was. When the heat, coupled with the humidity, became to much for the other kids to be happy, we decided it was time to call it a day. Brant was just an inch or two shy of the top of his bucket, but he knew he had done his best and he was happy with his efforts.We spent the rest of the evening back at Grandma's house playing with cousins and enjoying visiting with Grandma, Uncle Jason, and Aunt Amy.
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