'Memberin'

Y'all better cut this one out and wrap it in plastic and put it in the freezer where it'll last a long, long time. It might be worth a right smart hunk of change - maybe as much as ten dollars - when I get to be a famous author and your grandchildren are old and gray. Now I recently submitted this for publication, looking for an invite toward doin' a real honest to goodness column. I really hope I nail this sucker to the barn door here. As things change in this here land o' plenty and home of the brave, it got all over my mind as how somebody oughta start 'memberin' things and folks from bygone years in our little neck o' the woods. All this real brainstormin' started when I looked in that lookin' glass on the outhouse wall and realized that I ain't no spring chicken any more. What a shock when I realized that I was no longer a young kid in Lumber City but an old man in Vidalia! OK, time to move along, now.

Now I'm not all that old, and surely not that smart, but for true I remember things like outhouses, homes with kerosene lamps for light, and I still have on proud display my mama's old flatiron that she used to set in front of the fireplace or on the wood stove in the kitchen. There is just no way my kids, or their kids, can picture in their minds what life was like on a small south

Georgia farm only a few years ago. I really hope I can bring back some of that - the pleasant part anyway - and leave you with some warm, fuzzy thoughts that will last for a couple of minutes at least.

The little ol' neck of the woods I mentioned was, get this: Lumber City and environs. Now back in "the day," Lumber City was sort of a long ways from Toombs County. Especially from places like Vidalia. You see, there wasn't a bridge across the River back then. You either crossed in a boat or you stayed on t'other side. Well, right there on the "other side" - - if you're from Vidalia, that is, were some houses and small farms right there on that far bank of the river. In that area known as "the forks of the river," was a farm on the left (if you're going away from the river ) and that is where we lived. Daddy was always happy to go fishin' right there where the river bridge stands today, and he could catch more fish there in an hour than I can today in a whole day. And I thought he taught me all his tricks??

Well, as I said, right there in the forks of the river where we lived, oh, about some 60 years ago, there was, yep, no bridge, and there warn't no paved roads then, either. When my much-abused memory box (22yrs in the military will do that) kicks in, I 'member that the old clay road was also muddy.And it wasn't just a muddy road, this thing was muddy, narrow, and we found on occasion that it was occupied in really wet seasons by a great big, ugly alligator. I don't know if he found the road mudhole better accomodations or what, but I do remember the alligator. I actually saw the bad-tempered ol' beast with my own eyes, scales, teeth, and all. Real ugly, especially a two year old kid!

Now, one day I guess when it had been especially wet, when folks from around where we lived had forged a trail out and around through the woods to bypass the 'gator hole, my daddy decided he was gonna put a stop to the reign of "Ol' Big Tooth." I remember this day especially because Daddy let me, a little skinny, knockkneed kid, go along with him on this Mission Of Great Import.

Daddy had one of those Ford Model "A" pickup trucks. Of all vehicles of every description, I love that one, unique for its "jiggledy-jiggledy" engine sound. No other truck, or vehicle, ever sounded like that, and I wish I could find one, just to listen to that sound one more time!

Well, Daddy put me in the truck, along with his favorite hunting rifle, and off we went, down the two or so miles to where Old Toothy reigned in his watery domain. One reason I remember this so clearly is that I had been with him a few days earlier when we actually saw the old beast. It scared the daylights out of this little toddler! And on this day, Daddy was gonna get rid of him, and he let me go with him! I was so excited!

When we got to the huge mudhole, Daddy got his gun and got out of the trusty old Ford. He told me to stay in the truck, but for what reason I can't imagine! You couldn't have dragged me out without tearing off my fingernails! You wouldn't have seen this kid waging war on an old reptile, uh-uh. Not a chance! I was sure that thing would gladly have me for a snack, and my daddy for lunch. I think Daddy got the hint, asw he grinned and started off with his rifle.

Well, I stayed in the truck, and Daddy worked his way through the underbrush until he found a tree to his liking. Then, to my astonishment, he slung the gun over his shoulder and shinnied right up the tree! Now I had no idea why, but today my best guess is that Daddy had a better chance to get the gator from a perch up in the tree.

We sat there for some time, I have no idea how long, and I heard a few shots, two, three, I don't know how many. Daddy eventually came down, we started for home, and I queried him for the score. Nope, he didn't get the gator, as much as knew. But, you know, I never heard of that alligator again.

Well, the gator didn't have us for lunch, we didn't have any gator tail for supper, and we never saw the gator again. He was a whopper of a gator, and the mudhole was really big. If you'd been around these parts some 60 years ago or so - you just might have known about the big ol' monster gator. The mudhole was still there in 1950 when we moved into Lumber City from our old farmhouse that, for what reason I never knew, was called the "old Bridges place." Many years after we grew up, and I graduated from Lumber City High School, the old dirt road was paved and a bridge was put across the river there at the forks of the Ocmulgee and the Oconee rivers. A small community exists today on the north side of the river, but I can't find the old flowing well where our house was located. The Bridges Place is gone, but the culvert where our lane was is still there - I guess I'm the only person alive who knows about that. I can still find the remains of the old creek where I nearly got done in by a big rattlesnake, and I can tell you right where the mudhole was - - but I definitely can't tell you what happened to the old gator that terrorized a whole neighborhood!

What's really sad is that every single house I lived in as a kid has been torn down. Progress is wonderful, but it has left me homeless! If I could ever find my way into the Twilight Zone I might be able to find one of my old homes. I don't know if that speaks to the kind of houses I lived in, or if it has something to do with how old I am these days.

Thanks for coming along for the ride, I hope it wasn't too bumpy!

Joe