One recent morning, as nostalgia overtook me, I began to recapture moments from my childhood that remain with me.
Daddy left his home in Mt. Airy, North Carolina to go to Coalwood, West Virginia to get a job in the mines. George L. Carter owned the mines at the time, but soon after, the name was changed to Olga Coal Company.
Just as all miners did, Daddy Carried a Dinner Bucket.
At our house, age wasn't factored in as to whether or not you could do some chores. There was always a solution to getting them done. I think about the time when one such situation occurred. It was after supper and there set the dishes to be washed.
My sister Alma and I washed dishes together. I was quite young and I tried to make an excuse for not helping. I was so young and short; I couldn’t reach the faucet and told Daddy that. . Daddy said, “turn that empty coal bucket upside down and stand on it.” Well, I did! Makes me smile to recall that, but the lesson of that moment has stayed with me. One reminiscent moment leads to others. I learned from watching my Daddy just how to “make do,” and use creative thinking along the way.
One picture that replayed in my memory was that of a rough lumber car port that daddy built on the property where we lived. He cut down some locust trees in the mountains and they were hewn to fit the purpose. Locust is strong and reliable for supporting the corners to which the roof was attached. The black coal dirt became the floor of that carport.
Our ‘laundry room’ was the back porch where daddy saw the need to install a plastic screening material around the banisters to keep out the cold winds when temperatures dropped.
Daddy was not an outwardly affectionate father but was very quiet…he didn’t offer praise readily but he wanted us to know that if he did not approve of something, then he would say so. Daddy was born at a time when people who lived on a farm learned to “make do” with what they had. We learned lessons by watching him put that in to practice as he dug out and constructed a cellar where our home canned foods would be stored. One summer when I had finally worn a hole in my shoes, I watched as he placed those shoes on a piece of cardboard, traced the outline and then cut an insole to keep dirt out of my shoes…needless to say, it was a dry weather fix.
Daddy didn't wear a suit and tie to his job, nor carry a briefcase with important papers, either. In dressing for work, daddy wore the dark blue work clothes or coveralls and miner's boots. His fashion accessory was a cap light battery that was attached to his belt and he carried a silver lunch bucket which held the homemade sandwiches, which were many times made from potted meat or bologna and a little snack cake thrown in. His metal, thermos bottle was always filled with coffee.
Interestingly, when my sister and I washed dishes, we found the thermos bottle an annoying thing to wash as it had a cup as the lid, the stopper that closed it and the lining was a glass material which needed to be handled carefully but, we discovered, could be broken if dropped.
Momma kept up the house, prepared the meals and tried to keep up with us kids; we, who roamed the mountainside filled with childhood adventure and…
Daddy carried a dinner bucket-- from our house. On the hillside. Built in front of the cliff that towered high above it. Our house. Four rooms and a path. May not sound exciting to some, but the property that it sat on offered many extras. Extras that included access to a huge mountain filled with adventure. Hillsides covered in summer with blackberries. And lots of room for gardening. We just had to make a clearing wherever we decided to plant, and it could be as large as one desired it to be
Our house, our mountains, where in springtime, all of nature budded and bloomed with praises to our Creator and wintertime demanded hard work and difficult navigation up and down the hillside where snow and ice-covered travel became treacherous.
I'm thankful for my childhood opportunities in those mountains of home which taught me an appreciation for hard work and how to live with contentment. Between the Blackberry bushes, the cliff behind our house, the noisy adventure of childhood laughter mixed with Momma’s commanding voice to come in the house as darkness was setting in, all these echo joyously in my memory.
Blessings received; memories made.
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