MAKING GRAVEL

In the 1950's, growing up on a mountain on 360 acres of land full of wild fruits, nuts and berries, natural springs and where hunting and farming was plentiful; where one could, and we did, raise, harvest or kill most anything we needed to sustain us. An occasional trip into town would provide us with the “staples” like flour, sugar, coffee, etc.

We had all the farm animals we needed. We planted a huge garden full of everything we wanted. In the wild, we could find Blackberries, Muskedines, Plums, Mulberries, Black Halls, Hickory Nuts, and Black Walnuts. We hunted and ate Squirrel, Rabbit, and birds. We would have the occasional winter Deer hanging in the breezeway for several meals.

So to say we were poor folks was not entirely true, even though we seldom had two nickels to rub together (Buffalo Nickels in those days). Being ‘po folks had its merits. We found ourselves being frugal with what we did have; “waste not, want not” would be the kinds of words coming from our Granny’s mouth. But being poor also meant we couldn’t always go and buy everything we wanted.

Making gravel comes to mind as I reminisce in my rocking chair today. There’s no doubt that the old farm grew Sandstone Rock in abundance! Why, we could hardly plow a new field without carrying and stacking enough rocks to make a fence around it! Also, what does a Dad do with 4 boys full of energy? “Hey!! Let’s make GRAVEL!!” Being a pipeline welder and having all the tools one needed for that trade, Dad would bring out the Ball-Pein (or Ball-Peen) Hammers, set us down in the middle of our Lane, in a low spot that needed gravel and bring us a pile of rocks! The Sandstone was easy enough to break up as we smashed and bashed our way through the pile, venting emotions and working up appetites! With no TV, Game Boys, videos or other electronic games to detract us, we managed to produce something that only a Dad could appreciate! Looking at the opening scenes of "O Brother, Where art thou?", takes me back to the good old days of child labor in the Lane. The only thing different, besides our age, was the cool, striped clothing and the chains. I suppose we were too poor to afford chains!

Mike Thomas
Survivor of
The Good Old Days