Dennis Crocker Memories - Part 4 (June 1, 2013)
The last time we met, I promised you I'd take you with me to meet my oldest friend, Bob Shackelford. We had just moved from Pacolet Station to Burgess Town. My folks didn't like to hear it called that, and it was an informal name. My Mom used to point out there were more Loftis' living there than Burgess's. Just a wee bit of jealousy?
At any rate, the best I remember, maybe even the first day we moved in, if not soon thereafter, Mom went over to visit our next door neighbors. Next door was old Mr. John Whitlock, his wife, their daughter Muriel Shackelford, and her daughter Janice and son Bobby Shackelford. Mom came back and got me and when we went over across the vacant lot between our homes, that was to ever be known to us as the "middle field", Old Mr. John was sitting in his rocking chair on the porch, and Bobby was under the front porch (no underpenning) playing in the dirt with some toy cars. I scooted under there to join him, and he looked up with the infectious grin that has always characterized him, and asked "wanna play cars?" as he pushed a couple toward me.
I have no idea how long we played, or if my Mom left me to come back home, or if I went back home by myself. Such was the beginning of a wonderful friendship that has continued for more than 65 years. Bob and I grew to be the closest of friends, 'cept when his cousins came home.
His cousins were JoAnn and John (JR.) Whitlock. Their mother and father were Bernice an JB respectively. JB's job involved a lot of travel and they would be away for a year or more at a time. Bob was almost 2 years older than me, and I was about the same older than Jr. Bob could whip me, and I could whip Jr. 'cept it was never one on one when JoAnn and Jr. were home. It was Bob and Jr. vs me. Two kids could play together, three couldn't. I suffered a lot when the cousins were home!
There are a couple of stories here. The middle field was used by us kids enough that the growth of grass, mostly brome straw (colloquailly "Broomstraw") was kept to a minimum. Once you passed homeplate, the weeds did grow and about 50 yds past there was the trashpile where both neighbors dumped their garbage. Our garbage dump was separated from Bob's by about 50 yds. I had taken our garbage down to our trashpile one day, and since it was mostly paper, I set it on fire. Trouble was Bob and Jr. saw me do it, and here they came. Jr. picked up a rubber rat (toy) and held it to the blaze and got its tail burning. I guess it must have singed his fingers, as he was holding it in his hand, and he tossed it down hard, as you would do if your hand was burned unexpectedly.
Unfortunately, the burning rat lit in the broomstraw, which immediately caught fire! We tried hard to stomp it out , but it got away from us, and was burning hotly toward the piney woods and toward Uncle Wofford Burgess's pasture. Before we knew it, Bob's step dad, Woodrow Robinson, my Mother, my Uncle Talmadge and 2 or 3 other adults were on the scene, helping to put out the fire. They got it put out, Bob and Jr. had disappeared, and there I was holding the bag, or the rat, as the case may be.
This led to a discussion between my dear Mother and me concerning the carrying out of the trash. As it turned out, I did not have authorization from the War Department (Mom) to be burning trash (what we have here is a failure to communicate!) Upshot of the whole deal is the next fire was started the old fashion way, with a stick (switch) on the seat of my pants. I was really put out (poor pun ). I got the lion’s share of the whipping for the sheep's share of the action. I had a hard time forgiving Bob and Jr. for that. After I got over my switching, I didn't speak to either of them for at least a half hour.
That is the wonderful thing about being a kid, grudges were measured in minutes. If only adults were so resilient!
I told you there were a couple of stories about the "middle field". Probably more, as we spent hours there playing baseball. But next time, I'll tell you about meeting Bobby in the middle and how that led to my (interrupted ) trip to China, or maybe Jonesville, whichever was furthest away.
Until then, travel safely and be sure to tell the one's you love that you do.
This web site has been started as a public service to share the story of Pacolet.
