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![[Bob Boyd's World of Music]](http://www.nightflying.com/bobswor2.gif)
How
are things different now than they were when I was growing up in my
parents’ home at Mayflower, 1936-1956?
My dad was a good role model. He grew up in what I call the "horse
culture" of the late 1800s and early 1900s, before the proliferation
and common use of automobiles. He was 16 in 1900 and 36 in 1920. His
word was his bond, in an era when that was not uncommon; no one
survived in a community unless they were "good as their word." Before
he became a rural mail carrier, he had worked as a field hand,
sharecropper, carpenter, railroad mechanic, blacksmith and self-taught
schoolteacher.
The home where I was born was a farmhouse built in the late 1800s, with
no electric power, running water or indoor plumbing, like most of our
neighbors. We drew our water from a well my dad dug, and farmed with a
team of mares. We never owned a tractor. Dad's lifestyle was to grow or
make everything he possibly could and survive on very little cash money
and no credit, for indeed, in his day and time, there was little of
either.
In his youth he had suffered the pangs of hunger. He said, at times, he
and his widowed mother and his brothers and sisters only had cornbread
and sorghum molasses 3 meals a day. But with hard work and careful
planning he provided a good home and we were never hungry.
We did get electricity when I was a very small child, but even then it
didn't always work and I well remember kerosene lamps as being our only
light at night. We burned wood in our heating and cooking stoves, and I
was responsible for keeping a supply of it cut and carried into our
home.
I am very blessed, for as a part of being a good role model, Dad knew
the value of education and expected me to study and learn. I developed
a love for reading very early. Books and the learning and entertainment
they provide, have always been a source of pleasure for me. As
secretary of our town's school board (and later of the County Board of
Education) my dad had a hand in the choosing and hiring of my school
teachers. I attended grades one through six in only 3 rooms, under 3
schoolteachers.
When Dad finally agreed to buy a television set for my mother, my dad
was fascinated and amazed. Significantly, he would not buy one until I
had graduated from high school. During the late 50s, I lived in Little
Rock but often visited with my parents overnight and watched television
with them, shows such as "Bonanza" and "Maverick" and "Gunsmoke."
He would say, "If you had told me, when I was your age, I would be
sitting and watching events as they actually happened thousands of
miles away, I would have doubted your sanity." My dad, who was born
during President U. S. Grant's lifetime, when there were no automobiles
or telephones, lived until 1969 and knew about the Apollo landing on
the moon.
Dad never used a telephone. If the phone rang and he was at home alone,
he wouldn't answer it. His philosophy was, "If I need to talk to
someone, I'll go see them." The only exception I recall was when my
brother Jess, stationed in Florida during the 2nd World War, called us
and we went to the only phone in Mayflower, an ancient wooden box with
a hand crank on the wall of my cousin's home. Nowadays, with the
popular use of computers, internet and cell phone communication and the
hundreds of other technological wonders I have seen come into usage, I
can easily identify with my dad and his wonderment.
He carried the U.S. Mail over 45 miles of dirt and gravel roads 6 days
a week for 35 years, beginning in a horse and buggy and later in a
pickup truck. In the early days, the mail sack was thrown off a
fast-moving train, and our postmaster sometimes had to walk up and down
the railroad to find the canvas bag. A few times it went into the
creek. He would hang the outgoing mail by the tracks on a kind of
gallows device. A hook would come out and grab it as the train flew
past. I don't know if the hook was operated mechanically or by a
trainman. Later, after the post office moved a few blocks east to the
side of Highway 65, it was delivered by a bus called a "Highway Post
Office" by armed guards.
I am grateful for all the improvements we now enjoy, especially
communications and medical technology. But in many ways, things were so
simple and so much easier back then.
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