In A Van Down By The River

I came upon this old man who was camping in an old van down by the river. He was there with his boat and his tent along with an assorted collection of food and tools and clothes and old books. I felt sorry for the fellow but as I talked to him he seemed both happy and well fed (big ole gut on that fellow!) and soon I lost all feeling of pity.

I asked the guy if he would mind doing an interview. He agreed and so I began by asking him what sort of work he did.

I have worked at a lot of different types of jobs over the years. The first sort of work I did was for my own family of course. Back then, at least in our family, we worked and there was always plenty to do. I had to get up and out early enough to slop the hogs, bring in the eggs, bail water from the well for the horses and cattle and throw out a bit of chicken feed. When I got home from school the well still waited and there was always more work to do.

I started working for some extra money when I was around 10 years old. I started cutting grass for an elderly couple nearby. The word got out with their friends and neighbors and soon I had several regular yards to keep me busy for the summer. And it wasn't just cutting grass either. There were always loose screws, burned out light bulbs, stopped up gutters, or something that needed tending to. It grew to the point that I barely had time sometimes to "play". But the money was great.

Wait a minute. Wasn't that 60 or 70 years ago now? Anyway, how much did you get paid for the jobs you did then?

Well it wasn't quite that long ago but anyway, it varied a lot but for a yard that would take me an hour or two to do I would get a dollar or two. In later years it was more like five bucks. Mind you them old fogies wanted to pay me a quarter or two sometimes. They didn't understand that the value of money was already way down even then.

In addition to my pay I was often sent on my way with fresh fruit and vegetables. Once I was even given a package of frozen turtle meat. One thing I remember fondly is being there in that hot sun with the sweat a rollin' and me pushing that lawnmower and the lady I was working for comin' out with an ice cold 16 ounce glass bottle of Pepsi... whew! It wasn't uncommon either to be invited in for lunch in the middle of the day. Or, when you were just too dirty and sweaty it might be a break out on the porch with something good to eat and something cold to drink.

Some of the old folks whose yards I mowed also bought them old Grit newspapers from me. Seemed like old people liked them things the best.

One day I was reading my comic books and I saw an advertisement for a newspaper called Grit. I sent out for the info, signed up and started running around the neighborhood pushing newspapers. I remember feeling like the businessman and approached it all very seriously.

Cutting grass and doing various odd jobs was some hot work but selling those danged Grit newspapers was too much work and to me it just felt like begging. No one was interested in that paper but a few people bought it. Thinking back I am sure they were just trying to be nice to a kid or perhaps they just couldn't say no to a door to door salesman.

Well, what did you spend all that hard earned money on?

In those days I spent the money on things like comic books, ice cream bars, fishing tackle, shotgun and rifle shells. There was just something about shooting up a box of ammo that you had paid for yourself. And you could get an ice cream bar at the store for one thin dime. Now some folks would say that a dime just aint worth as much these days but people make more money so it balances out. I disagree. A dime then was much easier to come by than the one dollar or more that it takes to get a small ace cream bar is these days.

Somewhere along the line so many of the young people got tricked into believing that it was just normal for things to continually go up in price as time goes by. Now when they see the price increases they may gripe or tighten their purse strings a bit but they are not surprised or alarmed. Now that's not true of all the youngin's but most of them I think. They are taught that the Constitution and yesterdays prices and promises are outdated.

With that he tipped his hat and turned to pull a small brief case from his tent roll. He unzipped that and pulled out a laptop. He smiled and nodded again then he told me that he had to get to work. Before I left him there in the woods I asked him one final question.

What sort of work are you doing these days?

Oh, I write for hubpages now. Isn't this wireless net the shiznit man?

Wow! You write for Hubpages and you are homeless?

No man, I'm not homeless, I'm just laying back and enjoying life without being chained to some dude's time clock! 

Wow, imagine that! Could it be?

Lucy! You got some 'splainin' to do!

It is strange sometimes how things work. I hadn’t thought much about Grit in years and certainly had not mentioned it or written about.

Now, just two days after writing this page I obtained a new book Tales From The Hills And Hollers Of Eastern Kentucky. I flipped it open and started to read on a random page. Here is what I first read: I thought this was so cool that I had to come back here and this!

"When I was a young child, Montgomery Ward and Sears and Roebucks catalogues were an ever-present help in our outhouse. Once-in-a-while, we were fortunate enough to get our hands on a Grit paper. My brother, Marcy, Sold Grits Papers, and on occasion, there would be an extra copy for us to read and eventually use as toilet tissue."

From Tales From The Hills And Hollers Of Eastern Kentucky

I have since read several chapters in this book. Really good reading, I love stuff like this!

Any resemblance of this piece of work to anything logical is purely coincidence.

No pelicans or walruses were harmed in the production of this drivel* (*as far as we the editors are aware of).

Copyright 2011 David Slone all rights reserved