Survival and memories to last a lifetime is triumph enough. Love your comparison worms to mouse to eek out a means of support. A great memory of your parents holding hands to the end great love.
Thank you. Dad's work was a big part of my childhood. An interesting cast of characters came and went. When he left his shop it meant big change in the entire family's lives.
Hard to go home, isn't it. I just recently went back to my grandmother s home that I loved so dearly. No longer a farm .Green grass replaced the sandy yard. The inside is now painted and beautiful. I think of my grandmother there writing her newspaper columns to support herself as a widow. I can see her now and yet I can't.She is gone
Memories of the smell of pine and sawdust filled my heart reading your memories. Your dad sharpened the saws like my granddaddy and daddy’s crews used to cut the pine trees and make them into boards at WB Trowell and Sons Sawmill in Lena, SC. The 50s and 60s. Then another memory filled my heart of the sawmill failing and my daddy also became a traveling salesman selling sawmill equipment in three states. I wonder if my daddy and your daddy ever crossed paths. My daddy had a catfish pond in his last years and used worms as bait. Your words so often paint my memories of childhood in the rural south. I’m grateful you chose a mouse and share your words turned memories with us. Your daddy and mama live on through your gifts to all of us. Oh to be able to share a childhood of memories, sweet and bittersweet, the way you do. Thank you for the beautiful gifts you give, one word at a time. This story is one I will add to the others you’ve penned and mark it with a ❤️ to remind me to revisit when I want to remember the sweet days of my childhood.
Before I95 was built, my family would pack up the station wagon in Columbia, head out of town on 321, then pick up 301. We'd buy fruitcake in Claxton, hold our noses through Jesup, then on to Waycross. Depending on mama's mood, we'd turn towards either Folkston or Homerville and Fargo. Destination: our grandparents farm just outside Lake City, Florida.
Shortly before my parents passed 20 days apart in 2017, we made a pilgrimage down that same route. This time I drove. Got a ticket for speeding (not!) Dad yelled at the trooper "You can't give her a ticket. I only have one leg."
I know those roads. South Georgia has been known to have a few speed traps. Today I avoid I-95 when heading to Florida, taking the roads you mention until I run out of choices. You're welcome.
Our car got drafted by an 18-wheeler passing us on 321. The trooper pulled out, blue lights flashing, and the truck pulled over. The trooper passed the truck and pulled me instead, claiming I was going faster than the truck passing us. First, mom lectured him from the back seat. "Young man....." Then dad jumped in waving his prosthesis which he'd removed for the drive. I almost felt sorry for the trooper, but he gave me the ticket anyway.
A loving chronology of his Dad's work history supporting the family, ending with seeing his parents lying together holding hands. A memory to treasure forever. A great share.
A great ode to your Dad. Did he ever think of selling worm castings? I understand they make great fertilizer. Here's to worm castings, well composted like debil's food cake! "Worm compost is of the debil!" Keep 'em coming, Tom, you're an inspiration.
Worm castings probably weren't of interest to him. Thank you for the encouragement. I wasted a lot of time and talent for trivial stuff throughout life. I'm making up for it now.
Tom: We have so much in common. As an eight-and nine-year-old boy, I travelled with my forester Dad through the woodlands of the SC lowcountry in the summer. I can remember going to Hilton Head by boat before the bridge ~ a beautiful island filled with live oaks, moss, and nice Gullah folks. It seemed like Dad knew every country store from Manteo, NC to Bluffton, and when he entered, they knew him, and I could feel the mutual respect. As a boy, it was a wonderful learning experience filled with Southern memories never to be forgotten. :)
Wow! Thank you for sharing this journey of your life....I so admire your Dad and all that he did...and the true devotion to your Mom. Above that, he raised an amazing talented son. Keep these stories coming......I appreciate you! And, I know your mom and dad would be so proud of you.
Survival and memories to last a lifetime is triumph enough. Love your comparison worms to mouse to eek out a means of support. A great memory of your parents holding hands to the end great love.
Some stories need to be long and this is one of them. This is a beautiful tribute to a hardworking and honorable man.
Thank you. Dad's work was a big part of my childhood. An interesting cast of characters came and went. When he left his shop it meant big change in the entire family's lives.
This is a journey written so beautifully. Tears and pride and love of family and the worlds we come from.
Thank you, sweetie. That means much to me.
Hard to go home, isn't it. I just recently went back to my grandmother s home that I loved so dearly. No longer a farm .Green grass replaced the sandy yard. The inside is now painted and beautiful. I think of my grandmother there writing her newspaper columns to support herself as a widow. I can see her now and yet I can't.She is gone
It's hard and it hurts to go back home. I don't think I'll eve get over certain things from those days.
Memories of the smell of pine and sawdust filled my heart reading your memories. Your dad sharpened the saws like my granddaddy and daddy’s crews used to cut the pine trees and make them into boards at WB Trowell and Sons Sawmill in Lena, SC. The 50s and 60s. Then another memory filled my heart of the sawmill failing and my daddy also became a traveling salesman selling sawmill equipment in three states. I wonder if my daddy and your daddy ever crossed paths. My daddy had a catfish pond in his last years and used worms as bait. Your words so often paint my memories of childhood in the rural south. I’m grateful you chose a mouse and share your words turned memories with us. Your daddy and mama live on through your gifts to all of us. Oh to be able to share a childhood of memories, sweet and bittersweet, the way you do. Thank you for the beautiful gifts you give, one word at a time. This story is one I will add to the others you’ve penned and mark it with a ❤️ to remind me to revisit when I want to remember the sweet days of my childhood.
Great story! I share some of those same memories just not to that extent or eloquence.
As I've written, I look backwards more than forward now. I think a lot of us do. Thanks for commenting.
This brought tears, reminded me so much of my own dad, enough said.
Enough said.
Before I95 was built, my family would pack up the station wagon in Columbia, head out of town on 321, then pick up 301. We'd buy fruitcake in Claxton, hold our noses through Jesup, then on to Waycross. Depending on mama's mood, we'd turn towards either Folkston or Homerville and Fargo. Destination: our grandparents farm just outside Lake City, Florida.
Shortly before my parents passed 20 days apart in 2017, we made a pilgrimage down that same route. This time I drove. Got a ticket for speeding (not!) Dad yelled at the trooper "You can't give her a ticket. I only have one leg."
Thanks for the memory.
I know those roads. South Georgia has been known to have a few speed traps. Today I avoid I-95 when heading to Florida, taking the roads you mention until I run out of choices. You're welcome.
Very creative speed trap!
Our car got drafted by an 18-wheeler passing us on 321. The trooper pulled out, blue lights flashing, and the truck pulled over. The trooper passed the truck and pulled me instead, claiming I was going faster than the truck passing us. First, mom lectured him from the back seat. "Young man....." Then dad jumped in waving his prosthesis which he'd removed for the drive. I almost felt sorry for the trooper, but he gave me the ticket anyway.
It was like living a Rick Bragg story.
Sounds a bit like a scene from a movie ... you didn't see a Burt Reynolds-look alike did you ... or Jackie Gleason?
That would have been good 🤣
A survivor of a survivor… poignant.
A loving chronology of his Dad's work history supporting the family, ending with seeing his parents lying together holding hands. A memory to treasure forever. A great share.
Love that tribute.. and the multiple truisms within.
Thank you, sir.
A great ode to your Dad. Did he ever think of selling worm castings? I understand they make great fertilizer. Here's to worm castings, well composted like debil's food cake! "Worm compost is of the debil!" Keep 'em coming, Tom, you're an inspiration.
Worm castings probably weren't of interest to him. Thank you for the encouragement. I wasted a lot of time and talent for trivial stuff throughout life. I'm making up for it now.
Tom: We have so much in common. As an eight-and nine-year-old boy, I travelled with my forester Dad through the woodlands of the SC lowcountry in the summer. I can remember going to Hilton Head by boat before the bridge ~ a beautiful island filled with live oaks, moss, and nice Gullah folks. It seemed like Dad knew every country store from Manteo, NC to Bluffton, and when he entered, they knew him, and I could feel the mutual respect. As a boy, it was a wonderful learning experience filled with Southern memories never to be forgotten. :)
Wow! Thank you for sharing this journey of your life....I so admire your Dad and all that he did...and the true devotion to your Mom. Above that, he raised an amazing talented son. Keep these stories coming......I appreciate you! And, I know your mom and dad would be so proud of you.