Our rented house was at least one-quarter mile from the blacktop in Upper South Hominy right underneath Mount Pisgah. Pisgah was where the first TV tower was installed. WLOS channel 13. Trouble was we didn’t have a TV. But my neighbor across the hill did. And they had a son a year or so younger than me and I got invited over sometimes. I saw Old Yeller in living color on their TV. Then I had to walk-run home in the dark through the woods. And a rabid wolf had just attacked the cow, and Old Yeller had killed it. But he caught rabies in the process and Travis had to shoot him. So with the fear of wolves in my head and tears streaming down for Old Yeller dying, I flew home. One of my very favorite memories and favorite movie. Walt Disney would turn over in his grave over some of the junk Disney is putting out now.
I got sidetracked, down this dirt road and over the hill through the pines, with three June apple trees on the right. The dirt road leveled out, and then the old oak bridge, (my second home) over Davis’ Creek. Minnows, chubs, frogs, hog suckers, horny heads and trout were in the creek just for me. Oh and water dogs. Large lizards kin to salamanders. I was scared to death of them for I had been told if one bit you, it would not let go till it thundered. Thunderstorms were plentiful in the mountains, but I took no chance with them or blacksnakes for that reason. After the bridge, it was uphill through the woods and it leveled out and the house was there. It was a neat white house with a basement with a dirt floor. The front porch was about 10 feet off the ground with steps up to it on the right side. Around the left side of the house was a back porch. The woodbox that was my responsibility was on the porch. There was a wide shelf on the left side with a warsh rag and towel hanging on a nail. There was a pan and soap on the plank for washing. I thought God made the creek water and the devil made the washing water. My sweet Mamma had a thing about cleanliness, why we had to rinse clothes twice when wash day came around. Anyway, there was a bucket of water on the shelf with a dipper in it for drinking. Through the back door were the kitchen table and chairs. A doorframe on the right went into the living room. Another door on the left, near the front door, opened up to Dad and Mom’s bedroom. The other bedroom was off the kitchen past the wood cookstove. Just outside the back porch on the right were the pump and well where we drew water. A lot of pumping when wash day came. Two tubs were hanging on the back of the house for that. I think the washing machine was on the back porch and had a ringer on it. Then we took the clothes and rinsed them in the tubs. The long clothesline, with the forked pole in the middle to hold it up, was in the backyard. Well, down through the yard and up a little hill into the woods was the outhouse. Now I ask you – would you go all the way to it at night in the woods? On past the outhouse was the pigpen. Usually there were two pigs in it. I remember struggling with the slop bucket all that way and feeding them. And in the fall when the cold weather came down we had a hog killing. Do you remember fresh tenderloin and biscuits? What about hogs feet? And fresh liver mush?
When coming back out past the outhouse up the hill to the left was the chicken house with a wire fence around it. I had to let the chickens out every morning and close the gate every night. Did you ever try to get eggs out from under a hen when they were trying to set the eggs? Quite a challenge for a little boy. Just down past the chicken house was the woodpile. Dad would get a load of sawmill slats from the sawmill and they were easy to split for stove wood. Sometimes we would drag chestnut limbs down from the woods for kindling. I was using a double-bitted ax and keeping the woodbox filled at 7, maybe 6 years old. And I could not go to the creek until that was done. But that instilled a work ethic that was the best teacher; that work is first, then play. And then by the woodpile was a smokehouse. A place for curing meat and hanging it up in tow sacks for winter eating. My Dad was fortunate to get a job at Enka. They showed him how to service air conditioners and he retired from there. We were not poor in that we had just enough and we made do with what we had.
This place is special to me. I could entertain myself all day, every day, there. The woods, a dirt road, the creek, an old oak bridge, a hay field and a good dog. A Mom who watched out for me and a switch she kept in the kitchen. A Dad who by example taught me how to work. I started reading as soon as I could put words together. I spent time in the winter behind the cookstove reading. I sat on the front porch on an old cane back chair. I leaned against the wall and read anything I could get my hands on. Sometimes Dad would bring a Grits home. I read them from cover to cover. A girl across the way traded funny books with me. (I very rarely had any, she always had some.) I’d just give hers back to her and she would give me some more.
My Sister Laura reminded me yesterday of when she got married to Bill West. What she took when she left home. She said she had three dresses for school and Church. When she left she took all she had in a paper sack, or poke. She said they lived in one room in a boarding house for a while and ate with everyone else. She said they loved it. Freedom, adventure, on their own was part of that experience.
My first love was Laura Sue Hinson. I thought she was the prettiest girl I ever saw. She could play softball and always picked me when we played at school. That was about 72 years ago. When she moved off to Georgia in the 4th grade I may have missed her and I was sad for at least a month or two. I saw her again when I worked in GA at her father’s block plant. She was a stewardess and I was married. She came up to the fence and we talked some. Last year she called me. I still had, have feelings for her. I’ve heard about kids and puppy love all my life, but I think there is more to it than that. Anyway, it was real at the time. She has had tragedy in her life and I sent her my books and encouraged her to remember the good times in her life, and even though we are pushing 80, to still dream. And I’ll be honest. I said, “Laura Sue, I would love to see you but I can’t.” I said, “I’ve already made too many mistakes in my life, I can’t do anymore.” She texted me that she was in a Bible study and she thanked me for helping her realize you can still dream and live and get past bad times. But I was tempted. Don’t bother telling me love or whatever you call it dies just because you grow up. I wonder how many of you reading this have experienced ‘puppy love?’ I do know this, I may be old but I’m not dead.
I went back ‘home’ a while back. The house is pretty much the same. They have indoor water and added a bathroom of course. The basement is still dirt. The hog pen is gone along with the chicken house and the smokehouse. There is evidence of the outhouse and everything else looks much as it did 70 years ago. Has it been that long? That quick? I guess so, just look in the mirror Jack. The saddest part is the old oak bridge is concrete. I almost cried sitting in my car and looking at it. So much fun on it. I drove slowly up the hill and towards the blacktop and I said, “Goodbye old friend, I don’t think I will be back.” And I drove up on the Parkway and stopped at the overlook where I could see down Hominy Valley. I sat a long time just looking and remembering laying on the old oak bridge fishing and looking up at the Carolina blue sky and dreaming of playing for the Yankees and kissing Laura Sue…