A BIG Reunion 2-2-18

MORE OLD TIMEY STUFF

31 A BIG REUNION - Excerpt from my Book 2-2-18

With all the big events behind me, life calmed down, and I found my thoughts returning to my life on the old farm. I missed Uncle Ray who always encouraged the boyhood side of me, I missed the creek and the island and my other favorite spots, and I missed Old Sam.

The 1950's was an era of change as is every decade. Television was invented and most big areas sported at least one channel and two if you were lucky enough to own a TV. At Old Portsmouth we could pick up Channel 8 at Poland Springs Maine. Two famous celebrities came out of there, Porter Wagoner, with his late night half hour show, was destined to join the Nashville greats and be known all over. The other was local newscaster Peter Jennings who Walter Cronkite took under his wing and today is one of the last old great commentators. In spite of this, Radio remained king. It was on radio that we listened to music, news and weather, and Radio made both country music and rock 'n roll a hot item. Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, Hank Williams and Elvis "The Pelvis" Presley all got their start on Radio. The Beatles got their start on Television, on the Ed Sullivan Show.

In the 50's people were roll conscious. Men did man things and women did women's work, and it went for kids too. There was Boy Scouts for Boys and Girl Scouts for Girls.. best known for their cookies. Boys played baseball and football and girls played hopscotch and jumped rope. When they started Girls basketball and softball boys were flabbergasted. Boys might be 'sissies' for a while and girls might be 'tomboys', but it was expected they would all turn 'normal' by the end of High School and get married. By the time I was 10 I had heard that there were grown men called 'queers' and women called 'lesbos' and we figured they were just 'tomboys' and 'sissies' who never grew up. Most people, even adults, never suspected there might be anything more to it. I never imagined a man in a dress until I ran into two in the 1970's.

I traveled in a bus heading for Chula Vista California to take my first trip out of the USA  and had stopped for the night in San Francisco. As I started to enter a cheap hotel near the bus station. I encountered two cute girls outside who flirted and invited me to talk with them when I came out. Inside I registered for a cheap $35 single and the desk clerk looked at me strangely and said "I hope you aren't thinking of going out with those two outside?"

I smiled and said "well they are cute girls and they are kind of friendly!" and his jaw dropped and he said "I think you ought to know they aren't ladies". It took me several minutes for my mind to wrap around that idea and I stared back speechless. I went instead into their little buffet and ate and went up to room 37 and slept.

In 1956 it was still fashionable to be a bigot, a racist, a chauvinist, and say what you thought even if it was vulgar. Political correctness didn't exist. In the 1970's  Archie Bunker would portray in a TV sitcom, "All in The Family", the post WW II common social point of view, to the dismay of his son in law "Meathead".

This prejudice now extended to occupations and crude jokes were made about small farmers, calling them 'hicks', 'clod-hoppers', 'aggies', and 'hillbillies'. I was treated like this when we first moved to Portsmouth, with my patched overalls, chopped home haircut and funny talk. People in rural churches often spoke "plain speech" that included 'thees' and 'thous' and local vernacular. In the south and Bible Belt they would say you, and you all to differentiate to make it 'plain' who you were talking to. In town, people might say we are having a party, would you like to come? We would say "we're havin' a doins on Saturday, y'all come!" :D   I couldn't do any of the things other boys did so I was shunned and teased. My thoughts always returned to my life on the old farm.

The small farm was also threatened as a way of life. The farm no longer supported a family to be self sufficient like we had been. Now instead, one or both parents had to work outside jobs to keep the farm afloat. Some gave up and moved into town where they could make a living working regular jobs.

Right about that time after the 4th of July we got a letter from Uncle Ray. I was excited beyond belief and jumped and ran around the house shouting and startling the dog. My Mother was reading "It says here he has a job driving a truck and they are bringing a bunch of trucks from Pittsburgh in a line called a 'convoy' to deliver stuff to the Navy Yard here in Portsmouth.  He thinks it will be a three or four week trip". In 1956 Dwight D. Eisenhower created Interstate Highways and construction was authorized by the Federal Aid Highway Act of 1956, but they weren't built yet. One traveled old two lane highways and could cross the country on one road like "Route 66". For the next few weeks I was 'antsy' and restless and couldn't sleep worth a hoot. He showed up more than four weeks later with a big box truck like a giant U-Haul along with a bunch of other trucks.

Now there was a secret my mother had not shared. I came home from school to find Uncle Ray and the big truck sitting in front of the house with a box trailer behind it. I went in and leaped on Uncle Ray and then trying to act grown up, held out my paw to shake hands. He grabbed me laughing and swung me around and dropped me back on my feet. 'I brung you a surprise', He said. "It's a Big One!.  Wait here while I go get it". He came in empty handed and I was perplexed. "It's too big to bring inside you gotta come out."

I followed him out the front door and there tied to our fence, munching on my mothers flowers, was Old Sam! I couldn't believe it, and I looked at him speechless.

"You see, Peter's family couldn't make it on the old farm any more and they had to sell out and move into town.  Your friends were worried sick about Old Sam until they heard I was coming this way with a truck.  Here he is and he has lots of luggage, and more to come later!"

I was already running and threw my arms around Old Sam's neck. His shoulder was higher than my head, but he was already checking my pockets like he had only been gone since yesterday. His velvety nose and lips nibbled at my hands, and his dark eyes looked at me quizzically with a "where's the apple" look. "Sorry Sam", I said pressing my face against his, "I woulda had one if I knew you was coming!" My mother came out laughing. "Here's two apples and a peeling knife!"

I fed him quarters like I always used to, and my mind was running in circles. "Where are we going to keep him?" I asked worrying.

"Here for now", said my stepfather. "We do have three acres, and that barn was made to hold a car, but we don't have one.  If we need to, we can figure out something later. Now you better get him out of your mothers flowers!" I tied Sam over by the side of the small barn and came back to look at my Mother sheepishly. "Don't worry", she said laughing "They will grow back, and I am as happy to see Old Sam as you are!"

Now when Uncle Ray had said Sam had lots of luggage, he wasn't kidding! The front of the box trailer had four bales of hay, and sacks of feed, a feed and a water tub and other paraphernalia. There was a salt lick, some horseshoes and all his old harness and gear. I was two hours hauling it all in the barn with a wheelbarrow.

The barn was made to hold two old cars back when they were Model A's or T's and it had a dirt floor. Modern garages had not come into style yet. While Sam was tied to the back of the barn Uncle Ray and my Stepfather went and bought some fence posts and lumber and when they came back they sunk posts and made rails to divide the barn in half. Half for Sam and the rest for everything else.

That night I took Bingo and we spent the night in the barn with my Scout bedroll next to Old Sam's dividing fence. It was August and it was warm and I just didn't care. Looking at the size of the gentle giant, I grinned and said aloud, to Bingo or whoever might be listening,  "You might say this is A REAL BIG REUNION!"

© Copyright 2018 by Daniel Blankley. All rights reserved.

.