When my brother and I were small, our Mom worked third shift at Goodyear Mill to avoid paying a sitter with money we didn't have. Mom would get home after her shift and try to get a few hours sleep. Gary is older and started to school two years before I did. I watched TV. Those were the days of Fuller Brush, Watkins Products, and other door to door salesmen, and when one of them knocked, I dutifully woke Mom. She instructed me to only wake her if it was important, so when a salesman came by, I would wake Mom and tell her it was important. This was not good.
Dad drove a truck, delivering fuel oil and kerosene, so he would often come by the house and I would ride with him. I think Mom must have threatened both of us with severe harm. I loved riding with him. My favorite destinations were the mines on the river. The miners were a bit rough and good natured. They cursed a good deal. I thought their language was very interesting. Mom did not approve when I tried out a few words at supper. A couple of the guys would give me unusual rocks and crystals. I wanted to be a miner.
Other destinations included isolated farms, usually small affairs that were in their last days. On one of these trips, Dad attempted to hand crank a tractor for an old farmer who had heart trouble. His hand slipped as he hit the down turn on the crank and it kicked back on him, breaking his jaw and several teeth. He drove all the way back to town, without a sound. He spent Christmas eating soup through wired up teeth. Never a complaint.
On occasion, Dad would give someone a ride. Once he picked up a crazy old evangelist, hitching to Alabama for a tent revival. He said the tent would be provided by God. Another time he gave an old woman a ride to a country store. She told us numerous times that she was from Laffingal, a community that had all but disappeared. I asked Dad why he gave folks rides and he replied that they were mostly lonely.
Once again, as I look back on my life, I see that my real education was informal and profound.
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