I will always cherish and remember those happy carefree days when I visited Grandpa’s farm in Madison county, near Marshall. Memories of running up the dirt road and up to the top of the hill well up in my very soul at times and sometimes I wonder where the time has gone. I remember picking up white quartz rocks and throwing them down the hill, cause that’s what boys do with rocks. This quilt of comfort that I retreat to at times embraces me and helps to forget the turmoil and unrest that is going on in our world today. These are memories that money can’t buy and our children won’t experience because those times of playing in the barn loft and jumping into the mound of sweet smelling hay has faded into the background, The joy of getting out of a night and catching lightning bugs has faded away, along with playing hide-and-seek after dark. The joy of running barefoot through the fields and wading in the creek trying to catch minnows or crayfish is a memory most kids don’t have today. And It saddens me. I wish every kid in America could experience farm life, new born calves. baby chickens, laying in the hay field looking up at the blue sky and wispy clouds, and sitting down to supper with the family…..
My Grandfather was Fuller Burris and my Grandma was Anne Anders Burris. He was a farmer and took other work for extra cash money. Anne was a mid=wife whose services were sought after a lot. I understand there was a journal of sorts of over a 1000 babies she had helped deliver. As we drove up the dirt road to their place there was a large stand of white pine on the left and just past the house was the barn on flat ground cut out of the hillside. There was a chicken house and a smokehouse also. Down below the house was the outhouse. There was always a Sears Roebuck catalog for me to look at the red tricycles and cap guns with holsters. On up the road was a spring on the right with good cold water. The hills rose fairly steep on both sides. The land on the right side was mostly used for pasture. and there were cow and horse and mule trails around the sides. Hence the saying that they had shorter legs on one side. Across the hill on the left was a holler where my Dad built a log cabin and hand dug a well. I wasn’t a part of that cause I got born in Candler NC after they moved up that way.My sister Laura remembers those days somewhat.
My grandpa had a corn crop on that hill one year when I went to stay for a couple weeks. I bagged him to let me plow the corn. He helped me gear up Fred the horse and I hooked the singletree to the plow and laid it down for the trip up the hill and about halfway down the other side. I asked Grandpa not to come and he didn’t. Now Fred knew Gee was go right a little and Haw meant go left a little. He was a professional plow puller who knew to stay in the rows. We started at the bottom row and I counted when we reached the other end I was 13 rows up. Fred was about to pass out from confusion. But there was no quitting-I had blisters the size of 50 cent pieces on my hands by lunch time. Fred knew when 12 o’clock came for he would stop at the end of the row and not move. I was proud of that plowing and it is still a good memory. For Grandpa told Grandma that I did a good job.
The Presbyterians built Churches and a Hospital on Shelton Laurel and put emphasis on helping the womenfolk while teaching the men how to be more productive farming. Mom made it through the 8th grade because of that influence. Dad lived on the other side of Madison county and there was no ‘help” for them. Dad only made it to the 3rd grade by contrast. They were poorer but I’m not sure they knew it or dwelt on it. So they practiced what the old saying was about what they had to do with: Make it do, Use it up, wear it out, or do without.
These memories are about another way of life. Perhaps they seem hard to you, and life was hard. But America became the greatest country in the world because of the foundations laid by these pioneers. Based on the moral principles of the Book-Love God and your neighbor.
This little story haunts me sometimes. The goodness in it is not really noticeable unless you chew on it a spell. But it was the mountaineer way-the right way. The old man had the traveling preacher stop by for supper. They washed up and went into the sparsely furnished cabin home and sat down at the rustic homemade table. The woman of the house brought a pone of cornbread and a jar half full of molasses and set them down on the table. The old man said Now after Ye say Grace Rev, just dig right in, they’s plenty here.
That stirs me somehow inside–l’ve prayed for the preacher sometimes: Lord thank ye for this bountiful meal ye have given us. Help it to make us stronger so that we may serve ye best. Amen..
I hope you are Blessed today and I hope each one of you have someplace you can go to and get away from the unrest that is troubling us-even though we have read the back of the Book.