[Granville-Hough] 29 May 2009 - First Train Ride

[Trustees for Granville W. Hough]

     I sent the following to my first cousin, John Richardson, of San
Diego, on the event of his 50th wedding anniversary.

OUR FIRST TRAIN RIDE

  It was the summer of 1935 when the Richardson boys and I got our first
train ride.  Uncle Jim and Aunt Maggie had most kindly invited me to go
with them and a church group from Poplarville on a summer trip.  At the
end of this most enjoyable experience, I had to get home. The return
trip took us through the city of Laurel, MS.  I do not remember how it
came about, but Uncle Jim and Aunt Maggie decided we might get our first
train ride, I to go home and the Richardson boys to visit Grandma and
Grandpa Richardson.

At that time the Laurel Branch still had a passenger car attached to its
freight trains which moved goods from Laurel to Saratoga, where the cars
were transferred to the Illinois Central for movement to Jackson,
Memphis, and Chicago.  The Laurel Branch was a remnant of the longleaf
pine logging days of about 1900.  So, as we went back to Poplarville
through Laurel, we were ticketed on the Laurel Branch for the
destination of Low, MS.

Now, I knew Low very well, as it was ¾ mile from my home.  I had been
there many times to the siding which was used by our community for
making bulk purchases from Laurel.  So I was to guide us to Low and
thence to my home and to Grandpa and GrandmaÂ’'s house.  Low had been a
little supply town in the logging days, with merchants and houses, which
had all been moved away.  All there was left was the siding and a
railroad post sign which had the single word, “Low.”  Only wagon trails
led to it, no roads.

We were almost the only passengers, and we explored everything pretty
well that we could see.  We passed through the towns of SoSo,
Taylorsville, and Mize, and a number of defunct lumber towns such as
Wisner and Milton; then I knew the next place was Low.  The train
engineer and conductor tried to convince us we should not get off at Low
but at the Ware Cut, a mile further along, so they would not have to use
so much fuel getting the train going up the hill from Low to Ware Cut.
But I was adamant, as I knew Ware Cut was two miles away by road; and I
had never really been there for any purpose.  So we stopped at Low, and
we ended our first train ride.  Bland Richardson recalls that I pulled
the emergency cord, thinking that is what we had to do. We then trudged
along the overgrown wagon trail to the county road, then on to my home.

When we got to my home, I thought the Richardson boys would be with me
for a day or two; but my mother thought Grandma and Grandpa Richardson
would have received a penny post card, as she had, announcing the time
and mode of our arrival.  She was afraid they would be anxious and send
out a search party to Low and Ware Cut looking for us.  So we set out
for Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  It was 1 and ½ miles through the
fields to their house.  It was a half mile on our land, then ¼ mile on
McAlpin land, then ¾ mile to Grandpa’s house.  We moved along at a
leisurely pace, taking in all the birds and wildlife, climbing all the
fences, until we got on GrandpaÂ’'s land.

There, in the first field, lo and behold, there was Uncle Coley
RichardsonÂ’'s watermelon patch.  It was well out of sight of any
dwelling, so someone suggested we have a watermelon, as we were
particularly thirsty after seeing those ripe watermelons.  I had to use my
expertise in identifying the ripest melon, which we “busted” open and
took out the heart to share.  After having that one, we were still not
satisfied, so we had a second melon.  Then we went on to GrandpaÂ’s
house, pledging not to mention that we had had watermelon on the way.  I
was particularly uneasy as I well knew Uncle ColeyÂ’'s temper.  On the
way home I gathered up all the evidence and hid it in a ditch.  I don'Â’t
recall that I ever mentioned those two watermelons to anyone before this
time.

Then I went back home and got there about suppertime.  It had been a
long day, with our first train ride, and our first watermelon from
someone elseÂ’'s patch.  I hope John can remember those adventures.  He
was the youngest one, of course, and it has indeed been a few years
since it happened.

PS.  The time to end America's Disastrous War on Drugs IS NOW!!!