We, who live in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, are called Hillbillies by the people from Michigan to Florida.  In January, 1975, Bea and I went down to Daytona Beach, Florida to spend the month of January.  On January 1st we were there and went to the high-rise on the beach where we had an apartment reserved for us.  We went into the lobby, Bea found her a seat and I went to the desk to register for the apartment.  The lady at the desk gave me a form to fill out.  She was watching me as I filled in my name and address.  When I wrote Ashland, Kentucky, she turned and looked toward a crowd of people standing near-by and said in a loud voice:  Oh! We have a Kentucky Hillbillie with us!   I looked up at her and saw her differently; I had first seen her as a lady, this time I saw her as a very silly woman.  I couldn't say to her what I thought, so I laid the pen down and gently walked away.  My mother used to tell me to not be mealy-mouthed but to speak up and not be afraid to say what I thought was right.  I told Bea that I wanted us to go out and find another apartment.  She didn't think we should leave this one because we had already paid a deposit on this apartment.