The Quarterman estate was originally all of that area from John Mann road on the western side to my families homestead on the eastern side. The Old Sunbury Road was the boundary on the southern side and the Goshen swamp surrounded the northern side. The Quarterman family divided the property and Mr. Henry Rahn, who married Helen Quarterman and thus was son-in-law to the Quartermans, became owner of the western portion of the estate. They divided some of their land and there were four homestead sites created. From the highway on John Mann road the first homestead was owned by Herbert and Guy Down's parents. Herbert was a year or so older than me and Guy was exactly one year younger than me as we were both born on the third of April.
The second homestead was the Bill Peyton family who were my Aunt and Uncle. They had four children John L., Virginia, Allison and Diane. Behind aunt Netherae's (Bill Peyton's) was the home of the Easton family and then the Selph family. Beyond that was the sandpit and as the road twisted and turned into a virtual causeway as it crossed the channel of the Goshen. There were two bridges constructed of logs taken from cypress trees in the swamp. The sandpit was our playground and beyond that was the ever beautiful swamp. I regret that the swamp was drained in the name of progress in 1973 and 74. Until that time the swamp had never (in my lifetime) been dry. However at the time of the draining of the Goshen it had ceased to hold as much water because the many flowing wells in our area had gradually ceased to flow naturally after Interstate Paper Co. opened in the late sixties.
The area was always wet and standing water was a constant battle for residents. My very earliest memories are of watching Daddy digging shallow trenches connecting all of the puddles and ultimately directing the runoff to the ditch alongside the highway. The big red Quarterman house was positioned on the highest point of elevation and the sea level dropped steadily in our direction as our house was positioned on the lowest elevation of the four one acre lots on the eastern part of the Quarterman property.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
Yesterday I received a call from Tommy Rahn an old friend and neighbor who lived in a nice home which was located at what is currently the main entrance to the Liberty County High School. Tommy is the Grandson of Mr Quarterman who lived in the big red two story structure which many will remember as the Kozma house. Tommy told me that originally the Quarterman family and the Rahn family owned all of the land from the highway to the swamp from my Fathers place on the east to John Mann road on the west. I would guess that distance to be just over a half mile. I don't know how many acres it would compute to be. I imagine it would bee more than sixty acres but not a hundred. When I discover a more accurate estimate I will inject it into a future writing on this matter.
Not trying to inject anything into this writing but the fact is that when a traveler passed through Hinesville on the way east the Homer Smith homestead would be the last occupied by white people before approaching the McIntosh community which was composed of predominantly Negros as they were referred to at that time. I feel like I might just as well clear the air on this matter as the entire world seems to get "hung up" on political correctness these days. I simply had the experience of growing up with my Grandma being our neighbor to the west and all beyond her were white until you reached the western edge of Hinesville a distance of about seven or eight miles.
On the other hand when traveling east after passing the Smith homestead all of the neighbors were black until you reached the railroad which bisected the McIntosh community at a right angle with the Old Sunbury road which also bisected the community. You might say that McIntosh community was clustered around the crossroads of the highway and the railroad. My childhood and early adulthood was a time of racial segregation of white and colored people.
On the eastern side of our place our next door neighbor was the Perry family. Their house was located less than 150 feet from our back porch. The Perry's owned a five acre tract which rested between the road and swamp and the original Quarterman place and the Octavia Sullivan place. The Perry's were excellent neighbors and all to the best of my knowledge became good citizens and many of their descendents are still active in our area.
The Perry family as I knew it was the Mother Martha and several sons and daughters and their home was simply a structure of pine wood framed square divided into four rooms with a gable parallel with the highway. There was a front porch with a shed roof which was a few feet inset on either side so that the porch itself was about two thirds as wide as the house. The front door was just to the left of center so that when you entered you were in the left front of the four rooms. The four rooms were clustered around a chimney which was placed near the center of the house. Attached to the rear of the house was a small uncovered wooden platform at their back door. Their icebox was on that deck.
As I sit here thinking of these reflections of my childhood it suddenly strikes me as being almost unbelieveable to say that I recall a time when we had no refrigeration but I most certainly do remember just exactly that. In my earliest recollections I remember seeing the green ford truck which Mr Butler drove coming down the road with the heavy canvass cover protecting the load of ice from the wind and sun. On ice day I would see Mr Butler as he stopped by the Downs house first and then the Rahn's, Quarterman's, Grandma's and then into our driveway delivering to each household and after leaving our house he went next door to the Perry house and then proceded toward the mill. The ice truck did not go to every house because some people did not have ice boxes. I suppose I speak of about 1946 or most certainly 1947 and I suspect that I remember some things from 1945 when I would have been two years old. As I write these thoughts I am drawn back into time.
I do not know how far back my memory reaches. June and I have often discussed our early recollections as we traveled together up the road of life.I say up the road because we were getting older so we were going up the road towards "FOOLS HILL" for some.
Not trying to inject anything into this writing but the fact is that when a traveler passed through Hinesville on the way east the Homer Smith homestead would be the last occupied by white people before approaching the McIntosh community which was composed of predominantly Negros as they were referred to at that time. I feel like I might just as well clear the air on this matter as the entire world seems to get "hung up" on political correctness these days. I simply had the experience of growing up with my Grandma being our neighbor to the west and all beyond her were white until you reached the western edge of Hinesville a distance of about seven or eight miles.
On the other hand when traveling east after passing the Smith homestead all of the neighbors were black until you reached the railroad which bisected the McIntosh community at a right angle with the Old Sunbury road which also bisected the community. You might say that McIntosh community was clustered around the crossroads of the highway and the railroad. My childhood and early adulthood was a time of racial segregation of white and colored people.
On the eastern side of our place our next door neighbor was the Perry family. Their house was located less than 150 feet from our back porch. The Perry's owned a five acre tract which rested between the road and swamp and the original Quarterman place and the Octavia Sullivan place. The Perry's were excellent neighbors and all to the best of my knowledge became good citizens and many of their descendents are still active in our area.
The Perry family as I knew it was the Mother Martha and several sons and daughters and their home was simply a structure of pine wood framed square divided into four rooms with a gable parallel with the highway. There was a front porch with a shed roof which was a few feet inset on either side so that the porch itself was about two thirds as wide as the house. The front door was just to the left of center so that when you entered you were in the left front of the four rooms. The four rooms were clustered around a chimney which was placed near the center of the house. Attached to the rear of the house was a small uncovered wooden platform at their back door. Their icebox was on that deck.
As I sit here thinking of these reflections of my childhood it suddenly strikes me as being almost unbelieveable to say that I recall a time when we had no refrigeration but I most certainly do remember just exactly that. In my earliest recollections I remember seeing the green ford truck which Mr Butler drove coming down the road with the heavy canvass cover protecting the load of ice from the wind and sun. On ice day I would see Mr Butler as he stopped by the Downs house first and then the Rahn's, Quarterman's, Grandma's and then into our driveway delivering to each household and after leaving our house he went next door to the Perry house and then proceded toward the mill. The ice truck did not go to every house because some people did not have ice boxes. I suppose I speak of about 1946 or most certainly 1947 and I suspect that I remember some things from 1945 when I would have been two years old. As I write these thoughts I am drawn back into time.
I do not know how far back my memory reaches. June and I have often discussed our early recollections as we traveled together up the road of life.I say up the road because we were getting older so we were going up the road towards "FOOLS HILL" for some.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
I said earlier that Georgia was an open range state until 1953 I believe. I'm not certain about the year that "the fence law" was enacted but I think it was 1953. At any rate I would have been 10 years old in 53 and if I had been allowed as well as encouraged to shoot Mrs Rahn's cows to drive them out onto the highway ditches before the repeal of "open range" I must have gotten my first BB gun when I was about seven years old because some later year I got a more powerful BB gun a Daisy Pump. I know I received the 410 for Christmas in the sixth grade for a Christmas present from Santa. I was six when I started first grade and I would have turned twelve in the spring of my sixth year of school.
When I was in sixth grade there was a nice family boarding with Grandma in the Greenhouse. The Walkers had come from Sanford, Fla and they had two little boys who were about two and three years younger than me. Johnny Walker and his wife Billie with her two sons Butch and Bubba Mills had come to live with Grandma the year before sixth grade and they lived here for about two years. Their presence next door would bring a whole new world to a young Jimmy Smith. As it turned out Johnny had been a young associate of Billie and her husband who owned a pawn shop in Sanford and they also owned a nice country home on the out skirts of town. They moved to McIntosh to rent half of Grandma's house while Johnny fulfilled his two year enlistment in the Army. It seems that Mr Mills had died at a young age and left Billie and two little boys without a father. Johnny had been from a very poor family (simply a Florida cracker) and had worked for Mr Mills in his business interest before his death. When Mr Mills died Johnny married Billie and they came to Camp Stewart for a two year enlistment.
They brought with them a 1951 Oldsmobile and a 1951 Studebaker pick up truck as well as Johnny's Harley Davidson motorcycle. They made frequent trips to Florida for brief visits. Butch and Bubba instantly became much of my after school entertainment. The Walkers would go to the drive in theatre every time the movie changed and before very long I came to be invited to go along.
It would come to pass that I would take my first motorcycle ride with Johnny as well as my first flight in an airplane. An old Hinesville legend Richard Helms (a non college educated but licensed attorney because he passed the bar exam) owned a two seat er airplane and it was kept at what was jokingly referred to as Gibbs international airport across the road from the Hinesville cemetery. The airplane was an Ercoupe with an unusual design. I think it might have had dual tail uprights. Maybe Jamey can dig up a picture of one. Anyway it was a small single engine with the cockpit above the front wings. The top of the cockpit was merely a front and rear windshield with an overhead sliding door entrance into the seat. You entered by stepping up onto the right hand front wing and over into the two seats. Once seated you simply pulled the sliding plastic panel over to the edge if you wanted to close the top. You could slide the two plastic panels to the center of overhead and the cockpit was open air with each side open but the passengers had the two plastic panels above them. As I said it was a unique design and it was a thrill just to sit in it at my young age.
Richard Helms was an eccentric local legend in old Liberty county. He and I became acquainted when I was a little boy. Johnny Walker was a licensed pilot before he and the family moved to Liberty county. The Gibbs family owned a large farm on highway 82 between Hinesville and Allenhurst. They mostly raised cattle and their herd roamed the woods between highway 82 (now 84) and the Atlantic Coastline railroad. I'm speaking of the area just east of the Cherokee Rose golf course. Back in the forties some of the Gibbs family became interested in flying and owned at least one airplane. Not long after we got our first automobile Daddy took me to Gibbs field one day to watch people get into the plane and take short flights. I'm not sure if it was a special occasion or something that occur ed on a regular basis. I think I accompanied Daddy to the airstrip more than once but I'm positive that I visited at least one time. At any rate the airstrip was dirt and grass and the runway was at a right angle from the highway. The strip backed up to the road just across from the turnoff to go to the Hinesville cemetery.
The Walker family came into our midst when I was in the fifth grade and went back to Florida when I was in the seventh grade. It was during this time that Richard Helms owned his airplane and most of the time it was kept at a small airstrip on highway 80 just out of Savannah on the way to Tybee. That is where he took it for service and maintenance.
In years past the family of Mr John Gibbs became aviators shortly after the end of the war. I've been told that the government created a program to pay former veterans to learn how to fly airplanes. Allegedly Mr Gibbs and his two sons learned how to fly and might have all owned airplanes as I remember seeing more than one airplane there when Daddy took me to see the place one day in the late forties. The Gibbs farm was probably almost equal to Cherokee Rose country club and it encompassed a long highway frontage from the eastern edge of the country club to a large drainage
ditch on the western edge just across the road from the American Legion.
The place was known as Gibbs field and before the fence law was enacted in 1953 I guess the airplanes were kept in a fenced compound so as to keep the cows away. I recall a huge barn type building with shed roof structures on either side of the front of the structure so that an Airplane could be enclosed within the building. In her later days the widow of Mr Gibbs continued to have a heard of cows and cultivated some of the land as well as renting some spaces for the revolutionary new house trailers, which would later be called mobile homes. The original airstrip had become a pasture for the grazing cattle.
I guess at some point Richard Helms made arrangements with Mrs. Gibbs to land and keep his airplane at Gibbs field. One afternoon Johnny Walker asked Mama if he could take me with him to do some sort of work on the airplane. He and Richard both frequently would tinker with things on the plane and then take it up for a quick test. Before too long I begged Mama and Daddy to let me go up with Johnny. Permission was given and at the ripe old age of ten years old I took my first airplane ride. I sat in the right hand seat and off we went. As I recall the cockpit was just slightly forward of the forward edge of the main wing. Seated in the plane you could look down at the front edge and have a clear view below. When we arrived at the airstrip the plane was parked near the highway and there was a ramp from the road where we parked the 1951 Studebaker pickup and simply climbed the fence to enter the airstrip.
That tiny little airplane was the most marvelous thing I had ever seen at the time. I was in fifth grade I think and until that time I had only known and experienced a world between Claxton, Metter and Savannah. Daddy's sister Aunt Dell at one time lived in Metter where Uncle Brunell Burkhalter ran a hardware store. Several Aunts and Uncles lived in Claxton and some in Bulloch and Bryan counties. Thus at ten years old my world had less than a one hundred mile radius of McIntosh. Gibbs field was probably about five or six miles from home located on the same highway. As the crow flies it would have been much closer. Highway 84 although considered to be an east-west road has a direct virtual ninety degree turn in the center of Flemington at what would come to be known as McLarry's curve.
The airplane was backed up to the fence and positioned headed straight toward the airstrip which was positioned at a nearly right angel to the highway. The far end of the airstrip would approach the lowlands near the Atlantic Coastline railroad which stretched from Savannah to Waycross passing through McIntosh and Allenhurst with stations located at McIntosh and Walthourville. With much excitement and absolutely no fear I eagerly climbed up onto the right wing behind Johnny and we both stepped into the cockpit and I think we had seat belts but I have no memories of them. I do recall being fascinated by the clear plastic bubble which covered the cockpit.
When I was in sixth grade there was a nice family boarding with Grandma in the Greenhouse. The Walkers had come from Sanford, Fla and they had two little boys who were about two and three years younger than me. Johnny Walker and his wife Billie with her two sons Butch and Bubba Mills had come to live with Grandma the year before sixth grade and they lived here for about two years. Their presence next door would bring a whole new world to a young Jimmy Smith. As it turned out Johnny had been a young associate of Billie and her husband who owned a pawn shop in Sanford and they also owned a nice country home on the out skirts of town. They moved to McIntosh to rent half of Grandma's house while Johnny fulfilled his two year enlistment in the Army. It seems that Mr Mills had died at a young age and left Billie and two little boys without a father. Johnny had been from a very poor family (simply a Florida cracker) and had worked for Mr Mills in his business interest before his death. When Mr Mills died Johnny married Billie and they came to Camp Stewart for a two year enlistment.
They brought with them a 1951 Oldsmobile and a 1951 Studebaker pick up truck as well as Johnny's Harley Davidson motorcycle. They made frequent trips to Florida for brief visits. Butch and Bubba instantly became much of my after school entertainment. The Walkers would go to the drive in theatre every time the movie changed and before very long I came to be invited to go along.
It would come to pass that I would take my first motorcycle ride with Johnny as well as my first flight in an airplane. An old Hinesville legend Richard Helms (a non college educated but licensed attorney because he passed the bar exam) owned a two seat er airplane and it was kept at what was jokingly referred to as Gibbs international airport across the road from the Hinesville cemetery. The airplane was an Ercoupe with an unusual design. I think it might have had dual tail uprights. Maybe Jamey can dig up a picture of one. Anyway it was a small single engine with the cockpit above the front wings. The top of the cockpit was merely a front and rear windshield with an overhead sliding door entrance into the seat. You entered by stepping up onto the right hand front wing and over into the two seats. Once seated you simply pulled the sliding plastic panel over to the edge if you wanted to close the top. You could slide the two plastic panels to the center of overhead and the cockpit was open air with each side open but the passengers had the two plastic panels above them. As I said it was a unique design and it was a thrill just to sit in it at my young age.
Richard Helms was an eccentric local legend in old Liberty county. He and I became acquainted when I was a little boy. Johnny Walker was a licensed pilot before he and the family moved to Liberty county. The Gibbs family owned a large farm on highway 82 between Hinesville and Allenhurst. They mostly raised cattle and their herd roamed the woods between highway 82 (now 84) and the Atlantic Coastline railroad. I'm speaking of the area just east of the Cherokee Rose golf course. Back in the forties some of the Gibbs family became interested in flying and owned at least one airplane. Not long after we got our first automobile Daddy took me to Gibbs field one day to watch people get into the plane and take short flights. I'm not sure if it was a special occasion or something that occur ed on a regular basis. I think I accompanied Daddy to the airstrip more than once but I'm positive that I visited at least one time. At any rate the airstrip was dirt and grass and the runway was at a right angle from the highway. The strip backed up to the road just across from the turnoff to go to the Hinesville cemetery.
The Walker family came into our midst when I was in the fifth grade and went back to Florida when I was in the seventh grade. It was during this time that Richard Helms owned his airplane and most of the time it was kept at a small airstrip on highway 80 just out of Savannah on the way to Tybee. That is where he took it for service and maintenance.
In years past the family of Mr John Gibbs became aviators shortly after the end of the war. I've been told that the government created a program to pay former veterans to learn how to fly airplanes. Allegedly Mr Gibbs and his two sons learned how to fly and might have all owned airplanes as I remember seeing more than one airplane there when Daddy took me to see the place one day in the late forties. The Gibbs farm was probably almost equal to Cherokee Rose country club and it encompassed a long highway frontage from the eastern edge of the country club to a large drainage
ditch on the western edge just across the road from the American Legion.
The place was known as Gibbs field and before the fence law was enacted in 1953 I guess the airplanes were kept in a fenced compound so as to keep the cows away. I recall a huge barn type building with shed roof structures on either side of the front of the structure so that an Airplane could be enclosed within the building. In her later days the widow of Mr Gibbs continued to have a heard of cows and cultivated some of the land as well as renting some spaces for the revolutionary new house trailers, which would later be called mobile homes. The original airstrip had become a pasture for the grazing cattle.
I guess at some point Richard Helms made arrangements with Mrs. Gibbs to land and keep his airplane at Gibbs field. One afternoon Johnny Walker asked Mama if he could take me with him to do some sort of work on the airplane. He and Richard both frequently would tinker with things on the plane and then take it up for a quick test. Before too long I begged Mama and Daddy to let me go up with Johnny. Permission was given and at the ripe old age of ten years old I took my first airplane ride. I sat in the right hand seat and off we went. As I recall the cockpit was just slightly forward of the forward edge of the main wing. Seated in the plane you could look down at the front edge and have a clear view below. When we arrived at the airstrip the plane was parked near the highway and there was a ramp from the road where we parked the 1951 Studebaker pickup and simply climbed the fence to enter the airstrip.
That tiny little airplane was the most marvelous thing I had ever seen at the time. I was in fifth grade I think and until that time I had only known and experienced a world between Claxton, Metter and Savannah. Daddy's sister Aunt Dell at one time lived in Metter where Uncle Brunell Burkhalter ran a hardware store. Several Aunts and Uncles lived in Claxton and some in Bulloch and Bryan counties. Thus at ten years old my world had less than a one hundred mile radius of McIntosh. Gibbs field was probably about five or six miles from home located on the same highway. As the crow flies it would have been much closer. Highway 84 although considered to be an east-west road has a direct virtual ninety degree turn in the center of Flemington at what would come to be known as McLarry's curve.
The airplane was backed up to the fence and positioned headed straight toward the airstrip which was positioned at a nearly right angel to the highway. The far end of the airstrip would approach the lowlands near the Atlantic Coastline railroad which stretched from Savannah to Waycross passing through McIntosh and Allenhurst with stations located at McIntosh and Walthourville. With much excitement and absolutely no fear I eagerly climbed up onto the right wing behind Johnny and we both stepped into the cockpit and I think we had seat belts but I have no memories of them. I do recall being fascinated by the clear plastic bubble which covered the cockpit.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
I got my first gun a Mossberg bolt action 410 gauge shotgun for Christmas when I was eleven years old. I would receive my second when I was a few years older. My second gun was a double barreled 12 gauge Stevens brand. Before those I had been given as Christmas presents two BB guns. The second was a Daisy pump and the first was a lever action "Red Ryder" style. The first one was received at a very early age although I can only speculate as to my age when I received it. I was not able to cock it when I first got it. I remember having to get June to help me cock it for a while. That proved to be ill advised as one day she, after having cocked the damn thing, decided to shoot me with it. We were both just outside of the kitchen window playing at the gate to the back yard. She cocked it and then instead of turning it over to me she pointed it at me and threatened to shoot. I held my hands up as if to avoid being shot but guess what. She pulled the trigger. I was dressed in my usual attire of the time. I wore only a pair of short homemade pants which had elastic around the waist and might have sported one little pocket on the backside. The BB hit me in the center of the chest and I started to charge at June before she could cock the gun again. June is three years older than me and the two of us got into many many fights up until I started to get strong enough to get the best of her. She took great delight in pinching, kicking, slapping and biting as well as shoving and wrestling. I was stopped by Mama's screaming as she came out of the kitchen and onto the back porch. Although the BB did hurt some it did not break the skin and as I realized that Mama had been witness to the shooting I instantly took more delight in being the victim and enjoyed Mama's scolding of June as she pampered me with her attention to the "gunshot" wound in my chest. Heck you could barely see a slight red spot but I enjoyed the attention and especially the attention Mama was giving June for having shot her darling little defenseless brother.
The Red Ryder BB gun was the first gun that would actually fire a projectile. I was not only allowed but was encouraged to use it to drive the cows out of the open space between our house and Grandma's house next door.
The Red Ryder BB gun was the first gun that would actually fire a projectile. I was not only allowed but was encouraged to use it to drive the cows out of the open space between our house and Grandma's house next door.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
.410
As a small boy I always remember having toy guns. Sometimes they were toy pistols which were meant to be "cowboy" guns as we played cowboys and Indians all of the time. I didn't have to grow very old before I came to the realization that the Indians were not the bad guys after all. Grandmama proudly declared to me at a very young age that I was part Indian. She and her children had the look of an Indian and I've always accepted it as fact that we indeed are at least partially of Indian descent. Some of our ancestry came from North Carolina and I imagine that was where our blood became mixed.
At any rate as a small boy I was drawn to the outdoors especially the swamp which was not more than a hundred yards from our backyard. Children then were not indoor creatures, especially little boys. I had the benefit of an older brother exactly ten years older than me who taught me quickly where the limits were to my adventures. To this day I spend quality "think time" at the very spot where Homer first left me alone in the woods. That spot is sacred to me and it is where I go for sunrise every Easter. I am speaking of the corner of the lower of two ponds which I share ownership with the school board as it is the storm water detention complex for the Liberty County high school.
I imagine that I was probably about four or maybe five that first time Homer took me hunting with him. He took me with him only because Mama made him do it. He cut the outing short because soon after he left me at the waters edge I became restless. We were at the northeastern corner of the rear field of the Quarterman estate. We were taught to respect the owners of neighboring property and skirt around fences until we got to the edge of the swamp. Once at the edge of the swamp we either skirted around or walked along the trunks of fallen trees which conveniently formed bridges across the swamp. I thought little of wading out into water above my knees at an early age. There were a few places in the swamp where the water might be three or more feet deep but not many and they were not large in area.
In my youth there were never any alligators seen in the Goshen by myself or reported by anyone else. The gators came after the swamp was channelized in 1974. The first ones ever reported were in the ponds created by Judge Fraser which are located at the swamps intersection with the highway. I believe I have lost one beloved little dog to the gators and I don't want to experience that again. About the only wild game critters seen in my early years were Deer, Turkey, Squirrel, Rabbit and many kinds of birds.
There always has been a presence of snakes of many varieties but mostly moccasins There was as I recall only an occasional rattlesnake. It was our custom to kill any and all snakes up until I closed the Corner bar and built my barn. I was at that time almost fifty and I had experienced a change of attitude about non poisonous snakes. I had learned that some snakes were actually a benefit to have around. The yellow corn snake, or commonly called the garter snake, is especially peaceful and a thing of beauty. About twenty years ago I encountered one near the barn and he and my dog Samboling as well as myself learned to be tolerant of each other's presence I soon named the snake SS for sneaky snake. There were many chance encounters and he ultimately took up residence inside an old draft beer cooler which I have stored in the barn. Many times I watched him lay across the path before me and Sam and we simply stepped over him. Our presence did not seem to bother him. Mama never really liked the idea of allowing any snake to escape the .410.
I remember one day when it was extremely hot and I walked past a large plastic tub which sat out behind the barn and was full of rainwater, I noticed SS's nose sticking up at the water's surface. He had decided to cool it in the tub of water. There were many such encounters. Mama never really liked SS and in the end she had her way with him. It was only about a month or so after her death that I discovered the original SS shortly after his death in Mama's barn. In those first few weeks after Mama's death I often spent hours during the day just poking around in her storage buildings as well as the house. That was my way of enduring my grief over her death and I still enjoy some time doing that even now. I learned at a very young age the pain of the lose of a very close loved one. The grief at first is almost overwhelming but in fact it is not that. Eventually one finds closure and there is comfort in that. At any rate one sunny morning around Thanksgiving I found myself in Mama's back yard and something compelled me to go and open the barn door. Right before me lay the remains of SS entangled in the netting which Mama had taken off of her strawberry plants. The net was for protecting the strawberry fruit from birds. Well SS had stuck his head through it and then could not get back out of it. He had only been dead for a matter of hours as his body though lifeless was still vibrant and flexible. I looked at him and could not help but think about Mama and her having her way after all. I stood there almost in tears thinking about my Mama but slowly I broke into a huge smile as I turned my gaze upward toward the pecan trees and in my mind I could here her words "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my Pecan trees".
Those words were Mama's immediate response sometime a few years earlier after I questioned her regarding the sound of the shotgun several times early one morning and instantly heard the sound of the shot as it fell around me as I was about two or three hundred feet from where Mama was with the gun. A short time later I joined Mama for a brief visit and I inquired about the gunshots earlier and she said she had been shooting the squirrels in the pecan trees. I said to her, Mama you should not be shooting God's little critters. She immediately responded "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my pecan trees". She could be a woman of few words but she said what was on her mind. And she meant it also. I stood looking at the remains of Sneaky Snake and could not help but think well God's little critter should have stayed out of her barn and he would not have become trapped in the net. Such is life and death of God's critters.
At any rate as a small boy I was drawn to the outdoors especially the swamp which was not more than a hundred yards from our backyard. Children then were not indoor creatures, especially little boys. I had the benefit of an older brother exactly ten years older than me who taught me quickly where the limits were to my adventures. To this day I spend quality "think time" at the very spot where Homer first left me alone in the woods. That spot is sacred to me and it is where I go for sunrise every Easter. I am speaking of the corner of the lower of two ponds which I share ownership with the school board as it is the storm water detention complex for the Liberty County high school.
I imagine that I was probably about four or maybe five that first time Homer took me hunting with him. He took me with him only because Mama made him do it. He cut the outing short because soon after he left me at the waters edge I became restless. We were at the northeastern corner of the rear field of the Quarterman estate. We were taught to respect the owners of neighboring property and skirt around fences until we got to the edge of the swamp. Once at the edge of the swamp we either skirted around or walked along the trunks of fallen trees which conveniently formed bridges across the swamp. I thought little of wading out into water above my knees at an early age. There were a few places in the swamp where the water might be three or more feet deep but not many and they were not large in area.
There always has been a presence of snakes of many varieties but mostly moccasins There was as I recall only an occasional rattlesnake. It was our custom to kill any and all snakes up until I closed the Corner bar and built my barn. I was at that time almost fifty and I had experienced a change of attitude about non poisonous snakes. I had learned that some snakes were actually a benefit to have around. The yellow corn snake, or commonly called the garter snake, is especially peaceful and a thing of beauty. About twenty years ago I encountered one near the barn and he and my dog Samboling as well as myself learned to be tolerant of each other's presence I soon named the snake SS for sneaky snake. There were many chance encounters and he ultimately took up residence inside an old draft beer cooler which I have stored in the barn. Many times I watched him lay across the path before me and Sam and we simply stepped over him. Our presence did not seem to bother him. Mama never really liked the idea of allowing any snake to escape the .410.
I remember one day when it was extremely hot and I walked past a large plastic tub which sat out behind the barn and was full of rainwater, I noticed SS's nose sticking up at the water's surface. He had decided to cool it in the tub of water. There were many such encounters. Mama never really liked SS and in the end she had her way with him. It was only about a month or so after her death that I discovered the original SS shortly after his death in Mama's barn. In those first few weeks after Mama's death I often spent hours during the day just poking around in her storage buildings as well as the house. That was my way of enduring my grief over her death and I still enjoy some time doing that even now. I learned at a very young age the pain of the lose of a very close loved one. The grief at first is almost overwhelming but in fact it is not that. Eventually one finds closure and there is comfort in that. At any rate one sunny morning around Thanksgiving I found myself in Mama's back yard and something compelled me to go and open the barn door. Right before me lay the remains of SS entangled in the netting which Mama had taken off of her strawberry plants. The net was for protecting the strawberry fruit from birds. Well SS had stuck his head through it and then could not get back out of it. He had only been dead for a matter of hours as his body though lifeless was still vibrant and flexible. I looked at him and could not help but think about Mama and her having her way after all. I stood there almost in tears thinking about my Mama but slowly I broke into a huge smile as I turned my gaze upward toward the pecan trees and in my mind I could here her words "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my Pecan trees".
Those words were Mama's immediate response sometime a few years earlier after I questioned her regarding the sound of the shotgun several times early one morning and instantly heard the sound of the shot as it fell around me as I was about two or three hundred feet from where Mama was with the gun. A short time later I joined Mama for a brief visit and I inquired about the gunshots earlier and she said she had been shooting the squirrels in the pecan trees. I said to her, Mama you should not be shooting God's little critters. She immediately responded "Well God's little critters need to keep their ass out of my pecan trees". She could be a woman of few words but she said what was on her mind. And she meant it also. I stood looking at the remains of Sneaky Snake and could not help but think well God's little critter should have stayed out of her barn and he would not have become trapped in the net. Such is life and death of God's critters.
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