The bright orange sun reflected in the
tiny dust particles that flew from under the tires of the old Chevy truck. My body jostled about as we hit the large potholes
in the old dirt road leading to my Paw’s simple farm home. The cotton was in full bloom, and it made it
appear as a fresh dusting of snow had fallen across the farm fields, but the
sweltering August heat quickly reminded you that it was indeed not wintertime. As I pulled up I caught a glimpse of a little
red headed boy with freckles wearing tuff nuts jeans with the knees patched and
a pull over shirt yelling “Annie over” toward the roof. For a moment I was puzzled, but then I saw a
green ball whiz over the roof. He caught it, and I heard an echo of the same
thing yelled back to him. He launched
the ball over hoping to make contact with his sister on the other side. The sun had barely had time to rise, and he
had already gathered the eggs and done some work in the family garden. It was time now to head to Steele Elementary
for school. It would be quite a hike,
but one he made daily. He grabbed his
packed lunch and prized possession, a bag of shiny marbles. He was hopeful to come home with more, but
knew it was possible to return empty handed.
Playing marbles was serious business when you played for keeps.
When
he arrived at the schoolyard they had a bit of time before the reading lesson
started. His buddy challenged him to a game of marbles. When it was all said
and done, he had kept all of his marbles and gained four more of the other
boys.
They
arrived to class still a bit rowdy from the game of marbles. It was a nail
biter, and already being compared to the infamous match played three years ago,
when a fourth grader cleaned everyone out completely. His teacher, who he
claimed to be at least two hundred and eighteen years old, approached her desk
from the back of the class. She noticed that the he was not doing as he was
told and gave him a swift hard whack across his knuckles with the ruler that
seemed to be permanently attached to her right hand. He rubbed his hand and
grumbled under his breath. Hopefully she
wouldn’t tell his parents when she saw them next. His behind would be much more sore than his
knuckles from the spanking his dad would give him for misbehaving in
class. When he was a boy you respected
adults, especially your teachers. He
reached into his wooden desk and retrieved his favorite book. He opened the
history book that he had read over several times, but still couldn’t put it
down. He loved the book so much because the pages came alive with stories of
real people, and told the story of the past.
Books were not easy to come by, but he didn’t mind as long as he could
read the fascinating stories in his history book, his favorite lesson. He
doesn’t have any books at home; he can’t afford them and frankly doesn’t have
time while working in the cotton fields once he returned home. Other than school the only time for reading
was a rare visit to the library. His teacher began her lesson for the day they
would be discussing the current commander and chief, Dwight D. Eisenhower.
School
was coming to an end for the day, but there was still lots to be done. Upon returning home he would head straight to
the fields and start his job of picking cotton and carrying water for the farm
hands. This job earned him a whopping 40
cents per hour. It seemed like a fair
wage to a nine-year-old boy with nothing who wanted something as simple as a 5-cent
candy bar. There was no such thing as
minimum wage during this time in history.
People today would riot if expected to endure such labor with barely any
reimbursement. At the very least they
would refuse to do the work.
It
was finally Friday. His favorite time of
day was upon him, lunchtime. He opened
up his lunch satchel to find a bologna sandwich! He scooped it out and devoured it. Having such a fancy lunch was a special
treat. At the end of a long workweek
there would be no eating out in a restaurant.
His family couldn’t afford such luxuries, and they lived 100 miles away
from the big city of Memphis. No, life
was simple back then. No TV and no
telephone, only the endless fun to be had outside on a huge farm with an
abundance of siblings. And so it
continued as it began, life on the farm; born to his mother in their home in
Lukesville, MO.
He
continued to grow up a small town boy, thriving in Steele middle and high
school as a member of the band. He
played the tuba with perfection, receiving a lyre award. He would graduate and
marry a beautiful young woman named Betty.
They would have four children, their baby boy being my father. Life has changed a lot from when my Paw was a
boy, but one thing remains the same his love for his family. I am thankful for the lessons he has taught
me directly and through my dad.
Although
his life may seem too simple and humble for many, he looks back on it fondly
with this quote, “It was burgers, and fries, and cherry pies. Life was good
back then.” Maybe there is something to be said for a simpler life.
