Just south of the Arkansas state line was a little Louisiana farm town called Plain Dealing. Downtown had but two blocks all on one side of the street. The county mill stood just outside this cluster of red bricks at the railroad tracks. Linseed oil and years of traffic had been worn smooth the wooden floors of the lone grocery.. At the door as you entered stood a fifty gallon wooden barrel full of long sugarcane stalks .Five cents and you could suck on sugar cane juice with it all runnin down your chin till you wouldn't want no more, while watchin the farmers movin about their 'come to town Saturday' business. Visiting and people watching was the main source of entertainment for this little community.
Dad brought me a baby raccoon he found on a rig location in the country.
Ringo and I made fast friends soon as he realized who feed him. Ringo
would ride on my shoulder on a leash as we moved about this particularly
busy Saturday suckin on the sugarcane. Ringo would ask for a bite each
time I had one like I was getting one up on him. He was not about me gettin
ahead of him in the sugar cane eatin bidness. He'd make that little R2D2
sound if I had two bites in a row and would lean out and look at me,
"you did it again" ,he'd say with his eyes.
This particular Saturday along the edge of main street people began to
lineup as to see something of an event I knew nothing about. I maneuvered
through the crowd to get a good view and people would moved aside when
Ringo gave em the 'don't make me do it' raccoon look. They didn't.
.I could see there was a lowered black Mercury, about a forty-nine in the
middle of the street. A town official was standing along side the driver
of the Merc. announcing," this brave young man was actually going to put on
this blindfold and drive down main street full throttle". Not to worry,
we were told as unbelievable as it may seem, this he would attempt with the
police approval.There was, 'all a murmuring and I'll swear', going about with
the crowd as if this was the most radical craziness with folks craning their
necks for a better look shaking their heads in 'can you imagine'!
With a one,two and Go,the town offical dropped his arm, the Merc shoot
down main street reaching the screaming stop at the out shirts of main street.
Driver got out of the car took off his blindfold and raised his arms in victory
to those in the crowd. Everybody clapped and yell approval for this young
dare devil and began to express their opinion about the affair to their friend
standing beside em. This stood as entertainment in small Louisiana towns
during the mid fifties. Even Ringo thought it was small potatoes.
I carried a lot of respect for Ringo's opinion. Ringo had bitten my dad
up under the chin and I was astonished Ringo survived dad's response.
What happened that day, Ringo had climbed up a big,real big tree in the
front yard and refused my calls to come back to me. I pleaded with
my dad ,big Sam, to go get Ringo and dad did. He fetched a ladder and
climbed up to the first limb where Ringo waited. Dad reach the limb climbing
out hugging the limb with legs and arms. See, dad was a big man and yes
that limb was very thick but Ringo just kept backing farther away facing
dad till the limb begin to bob and sway from big Sam's weight. Dad would
hug scoot and Ringo would back farther away. It got unbearable shaky till
dad swung a hand out and knock Ringo down the ground. I screamed
and throw myself to my misguided buddy Ringo crying all while as dad
returned to safe footing .
Big Sam picked up Ringo in one arm and the ladder he carried with his arm
through the steps of the ladder placed on his shoulder and proceeding
througha side yard gate when Ringo recovered just as dad was in the
middle of going through that gate with the long ladder riding on his shoulder.
Ringo bite dad on the chin. Dad started swinging the ladder banging on the
sides of the gate back and forth. Ringo held on tight to dad chin till finally
dad got a free arm and pulled Ringo off his chin dropping him..
I ran to Ringo's rescue and we escaped to our secret spot in the woods.
Laying there under the trees where no one could find us we laughed
thinking about dad swinging the ladder back and forth caught in the gate
with my buddy hangin on his chin.for dear life.
Ringo was the best.
What a wonderful memory. I too used to spend time in the woods outside my home in New Jersey when I was a girl. I would walk between the trees and call after the birds. They would com to see just what type of other bird could make that sound.
ReplyDelete