On top of the knobs I have started this chapter many time and then rewrote and it again and again. My visit there some time back reviled a lot of changes since my days on my uncle’s farm. No longer could I find the old farm, let alone be able to recognize the country side. I had driven out from town on State Street which eventually turned into highway U S 150. Having been disullion by the turn about in the country side, the old Chevy continued to roll on down the road. Then somewhere between Galena and Greenville, I made a turn onto a side road hoping to find my way to Georgetown and the river. A look down at the gas gauge, it apparent that the old 47 Chevy, was trying to tell me if I don’t stop soon, it will! Well, somewhere still up in the knobs a few miles from where I turned of 150, there was a little gas and grocery stop. Shifting up into second gear to slower down and easy on the brake, we pulled up in front of the gas pumps. It was Sinclair station with just on set of gas pumps. Set back from the road was a small concert block house painted white with a plum tree in front of it with a small garage on the side. Parked next to the house was one of the pretties car I have seen in a while; it was a two door blue and white newer Chevy. Looking around at my surroundings, I noticed an old man walking towards me. Howdy, he said,” filler up”, “yea, I guess so, how far is it to Georgetown” I ask; “Oh just on down the road a piece, another hour or there bout’s, I reckon. The old fellow was wearing blue demin overalls with a white undershirt and was barefooted. Taking off his straw hat, he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his brow. Sure a hot one he said while he was busy filling up the tank and cleaning the windows. “Check your water and oil for ya, mighty important, you know in weather like his”. Sure, I replied, confusingly, this would have never happen back in the cities, I thought. I felt at ease here talking to the old man; while thinking that a lot of people back in the cities would not even give ya the time of day. Sitting there waiting for him to finish, it was not hard to see the big sign next to the road, coffee five cents. Just having finished a tour of duty in the Navy, where one of the requirements was to learn the proper way to hold your coffee cup. The old man noticing me staring at the sign and said “come on and I will buy you a cup of coffee”. Sure thing was my reply, for I was never the one to turn down a free cup of coffee. “Park yourself over yonder at that picnic table there and I will bring you some”, he said. Sitting there at the table, I began to reflect on the days roaming the knobs. There was one time in which I will always remember; it was when me and my cousin, Wayne with some other young lads would go strawberry picking. From all of the baskets we carried back to the truck, I though we was earning a heap of money. Wayne said that we earned twenty five cents for ever basket we brought back to the truck. Course we would have earned a little more, he said, had we not been throwing them at each other. Then there was another time my older cousin and I had picked tomatoes from my uncle’s farm and took them into town to the neighborhood grocery stores and sold them. Cousin Jimmy, being the oldest, told me to take off my shoes and socks and go in the store while he waited in the car. He said they would take one look at me in my dirty and ragged clothes and feel sorry for me and buy some tomatoes. Well, by the end of the day he counted out the money and said we did okay for days work and told me good by. It was that very day, a lesson in character was learned and how to figure money. It was also my last day of picking tomatoes with him. I never did hear much from him again and learned, sometimes, it is best to leave well enough alone. There was another time down in the valley when a bunch of us youngins went out to the orchard behind the old cabinet shop and pick apples by the grocery bag full. We then walked the whole neighborhood peddling those apples and the ones didn’t sell, we sit alongside the house and ate them. They sure were good with salt, especially the green ones; I don’t remember eating any supper that night though. “Here’s you coffee” the old man said as he sit down on the bench. “I brought you some vanilla pudding too; it’s just instant, hope that’s okay”. We sit there reminiscing about the days gone by. I told him that once I had lived down by the river until the high water of 47 then had to move. He said that he had once lived down at the foot of Sliver Hill until a government person came and bought up all the land around for a new school. A look up at the sky appeared that a storm was brewing off into the distance. “You better not try to out run that’ come on up to the house the old man said”. “I will make us up some lunch”. Once inside I sit down at the kitchen table, gazing around the room, there was a kitchen and a room with a bed and chair. Off to the side was what appeared to be porch used sometimes as a spare room. The kitchen table was next to the wood stove and the old man said “throw another piece of coal in the fire and we will heat up this soup. After taking on my fill and some good old conversation, I thanks the old man for all and said I would always remember him. We then said our goodbyes as I turned the key in the old Chevy and we waved at each other as the wheels begin to roll.
Posted on: Wed, 05 Jun 2013 20:34:51 +0000
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