There’s that little boy again! He’s no bigger than a young sampling and looks like he’s wearing the same faded overalls as he has these past days. I wasn’t surprised that the little scrapper wasn’t wearing shoes or a shirt since it’s mid-summer and, even here in the mountains, very warm at times. But I imagined that the bottoms of his feet must feel like leather with him walking barefoot through these Southern Appalachians as he must be accustomed to doing. A little tan & charcoal colored dog was always with him and no taller, itself, than the fella’s knees. Neither had ventured beyond the tree line as though they had walked up to a front door but were hesitant to cross the threshold to come on in. Instead, the boy sat down on his haunches while the dog plopped down companionably in the cool dirt next to him. They were both dirty from their adventures, looked tire but also obviously curious about all of the activity surrounding our work. They watched for hours day after day and then were gone each day before anyone noticed.
My name is Mateo and I’m from Spain but, fortunately, understand & speak English pretty well. I’m here in America as a stone mason helping to build the tunnels for the new Blue Ridge Parkway. This is President Roosevelt’s New Deal project which will take many years and men to complete, and will be good steady employment as long as we remain strong & uninjured. I lied about my age when I applied but they were willing to employ anyone who needed work especially craftsmen such as myself. A mason’s work is physically demanding yet satisfying as we choose the local stone to cut & chip into hundreds of uniform blocks with which to build. Aside from my fortunate circumstances, I still missed interacting with my little brothers and wish that I could make friends with this young chico. He and I have never made eye contact as he was too distracted by watching the loud jumbo drill pushing through the mountain along with the sounds and activity of the CCC men digging and clearing for the road bed. It must have been an amazing wonder for this little boy to take in.
I had deliberately sat down with my lunch box each day right below the ridge from where he watched, hoping to encourage him to join me. But it did not solicit his notice. However, I walked away yesterday leaving half of my ham biscuit and a couple of apples sitting on a kerchief. His dog slowly ventured down towards the smell of abandoned food, sniffing appreciably, before the lad rushed down to retrieve it himself. They quickly walked straight back up and into the trees without a glance backwards towards me. Encouraged, I tried something new today by setting up lunch once again on the same patch but also patted the ground beside me and held up an offer of cornbread and molasses. That’s when he finally made eye contact with me and began to timidly walk towards me. I breathed a sigh of happy success when he eventually sat down along side of me. We silently ate together without comment and I dared not offer the first words for fear that he would bolt and any further interaction would be dissuaded. But, when he finished lunch and looked up at me with a smile of thanks, I returned a second smile to say, “You’re welcome.” He simply pointed at the machinery and looked at me as though for explanation. I quietly began to describe what each piece did including even the teams of men and what their responsibilities were designed to be. It seemed real natural to be talking as though we were old friends while, at the same time, sharing cool water from my thermos.
I think back on that long ago time in 1940, and am still grateful that our shared meal launched a unique friendship between Jacob and me. He told me of the first time he heard the drills, hammers and pickaxes echoing back to the family’s cabin and how eager he was to discover what was causing such sounds. I came to also be friended by his family and, consequently, was often invited to their cabin built by Jacob’s father & grandfather. There, as we visited, I described my own home in the Pyrenees Mountains to them and how I learned to work with stone as my people did before me. We sure enjoyed sharing one another’s lives.
But we despaired that our time ended almost as soon as it was established. Within several months, Jacob’s father was visited by a state representative who declared that the family’s cabin and land was to be purchased through eminent domain for the purpose of the Blue Ridge Parkway. He had not been aware that a notice regarding it had been posted at the courthouse because he rarely had need of going to town. Nor did he have knowledge of the concept that his land could be legally purchased without his desire to sell. The time had passed, however, for him to protest the purchase and the family was forced to move long before my tunnel was finished.
Jacob’s family received little money for their home because it was on the far boundary of the proposed scenic parkway rather than straight down the middle of it. The purchase was to be used in designing landscapes of beautiful wild flowers & native shrubbery and, of courses, then to maintain its pristine beauty. The design plan left no room for the hindrance of poor families and their homesteads. So, the lives of hundreds of hill people were sacrificed for the sake of the national leisure highway and tourism. It didn’t take long for these abandoned homes to fail from the neglect of their caretakers and the gardens to no longer be detectable.
I wonder today, now as a citizen of this great country and almost eighty-six years old, where Jacob and his own family might live. I never see an old empty cabin & patch of daffodils that I don’t think of Jacob’s happy home full of warmth, love, hand stitched quilts and jars of canned fruits & vegetables from their orchard, wild berry bushes and well-tended garden. Our friendship, forged in my loneliness and his curiosity, was one that I’ve always treasured and perhaps he too remembers me from time to time. Maybe we’ll find one another again on the Blue Ridge Parkway one day as we’re there admiring the tunnels as thousands of us do every year. And, we’ll also recall the quiet easy times that we spent together with his wonderful family. I hope that my young friend is still curious.