'Things I Remember About Growing Up' by Sam Eanes

“Things I Remember About Growing Up” by Sam Eanes, as published in the Lexington Dispatch, Nov. 7, 1970

There was a time when traveling near and far intrigued me no end. I’d go anywhere with almost anybody at the slightest invitation. By the time I reached the tender age of 20, I had traveled to some 35 states and three foreign countries, Cuba, Mexico, and Canada.

My dear friend, the late Dick Cecil, was my very best traveling buddy. With a couple of “sawbucks” in our jeans, one suitcase, and two good thumbs, we’d light out for parts and places unknown. We ate light, slept in the woods, in barns, in boxcars, and occasionally in bed (when free). When we became a burden on our friends and wore out our welcome, we’d travel on.

When we were broke (which was most of the time) we’d take odd jobs and work awhile (a very short while). After having attended three military schools, there were not many towns or cities on the eastern seaboard that didn’t contain an old school chum. In most cases they were my friends and took us in.

One we had been down to Nachez, Mississippi, which as you know is located on the Mississippi River and is quite famous in tradition and southern history. Many of the original homes, inns, and landmarks remain intact, just as they were a hundred years ago. Our visit there was a very pleasant one.  We were wined and dined in true deep-south fashion.

We met and dated some pretty southern Mississippi girls, and being rather liberal with our bankrolls, we soon found ourselves without same.

By now we were on our way up to Memphis. By the time we reached Greenwood, Miss., we were flat broke. Somewhat tired, hungry, and disenchanted with the state of Mississippi, we had traveled through an area that had suffered their worst drought in history. Some of the people wouldn’t even give us a drink of water.

Luckily, we met a man who gave us a contract to dig a hole in the ground 8 by 12 by 12 in which he could put an underground gasoline tank. We were to receive $30, $15 after completing the first day’s work. After staking off the area for the hole, with picks and shovels we began to dig. The ground was soft and we made good progress. The man was pleased and he paid us the $15.

On our way in to Greenwood, we noticed a real nice boarding house with a sign out front reading room and board, $1 per day, $6 per week, and no breakfast on Sunday morning. We made a beeline to the boarding house, paid three days in advance, took a much-needed bath, ate a hearty supper, and then went out on the town. That’s another story.

By 7 a.m. the next day we were digging away. Suddenly we struck solid rock just a little over six feet deep. We called the man via telephone and he arrived and took a look. “Well, boys,” he said, “you’ll just have to dig it out.”

“With picks and shovels?” I asked.

“Either that or you’ll get no more pay.

With that he drove away and Dick and I went back to digging. But not for long. After several hours of futile work, we gave it up.

We had made several acquaintances the previous night. After supper we went up town and explained to our new-found friends our predicament. In the early hours after midnight we came up on a solution. With our friends’ help, we shoveled all the dirt back in the hole and took off to a nearby town where we bade our friends goodbye. I’ve often wondered how that man felt the next day.

As I said in starting this article, at one time traveling was “my thing.” As of this moment, however, I even dread driving up town. A recent trip to Maryland not only tired me out, it helped to bring on the gout.

Refreshments and Chesapeake Bay seafood didn’t even help to prevent the gout. Specially those delicious steamed Maryland crabs. They get sorta messy after the first dozen or so.

This newspaper has been scanned and is available at: http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1734&dat=19701107&id=lk4qAAAAIBAJ&sjid=rFEEAAAAIBAJ&pg=5548,567453