Showing posts with label Greenville nc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Greenville nc. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Just Released - A Boy From Down East


 
Just Released
 
 
A Boy From Down East
 
 
by
 
Larry B. Gray
 
 
 
 
 
Growing up in eastern North Carolina in a small rural community during the 1950’s and 1960’s was the best possible childhood you could wish for. Family, church, friends, school, and working on the farm was the center of my world.
 
I have often heard people say ‘if only I could change this or that of my past’ or ‘if only I knew then what I know now.’ I would not change anything because this is what made me who I am today.
 
This is a collection of stories of my childhood. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have enjoyed remembering them.
 
 
 
 
Order Your Copy Today
 
 

Kindle: 
 
 
 
 
 




Print - Paperback:

Order Direct From Author: Book = $8.75 + $.61 Tax + P and H = $4.00 Total $13.36


Email me for details at larrygraysells@live.com






Retailers:

Own a shop or store? Would like to sell A Boy From Down East? Contact me to discuss terms.

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Thursday, November 29, 2012

I Lost a Friend Today

I Lost a Friend Today





I found out today one of my oldest friends died. Henry (Hank) B. Bland was born on July 25, 1953 and died on November 27, 2012 after battling cancer and several other illnesses throughout his life.

Hank was possibly my oldest friend. I cannot remember a time we were not friends growing up in Edward, NC. In some of the pictures I have of us together we were only 3 years old.

Most of our early years were spent living across the street from each other and we spent many hours at the others home. The Bland home in Edward was one of the first places I where I was allowed to go alone. We spent most days playing together and exploring our world.

We had our own little gang which included Hank, Billy, Al and I. Edward was a very small town and we were it. We played together, went to church together, and rode the bus to school together. We had lots of adventures together.

One of those adventures occurred after church one night. As I said Edward is a very small town with only a couple of streets. We lived on the main street through town and the church was on the back street. Between our house and the church was a small wooded area with a path through it maybe a 100 yards long. I remember going to church with my friends, Al, Hank and Billy and one of them suggesting that we walk home through the path in the woods. It was like a badge of courage we were each trying to earn and this would be the first time we attempted it. I am not sure about the other guys but that 100 yard walk was on the longest walks I have ever taken. That should have been a short distance, but it seemed to go on forever. The woods were darker than on any moonless night. It was quite, not even the wind was blowing. After walking for what seemed like hours without saying a word between us, we finally made it to the other end near Al’s house. It was like the moon come out and the stars were shinning and we started laughing and teasing one another. From that night on we always took the short cut through the woods, I guess we earned our badge.

At first my friends and I only played at each other’s houses, but as we got older and braver we ventured out into the area. Behind Hank’s house was an old abandoned barn. This soon became our clubhouse and our base of operations from which we explored deeper and deeper into the woods. Finally around age 1o or 11 we began exploring the creek and for the next couple of years Hank and I had many great adventures along the banks of Durham Creek.

Hank and I started school together in the fall of 1959 at Aurora High School and for the next 12 years we went to the same school building. I remember how it was so great riding the school bus with the big kids and we felt grown up. We were lucky that there were a couple of “High School” girls who kept an eye on us. Thanks Miriam and Deanna, Hank’s sister.

One Christmas day Hank’s sister Deanna took us to the movies in Washington at the Turnage Theater. The movie Swiss Family Robinson had just come out and we got to see it that first week.

Hank was part of the group that went with me to be on the Romper Room TV show in Greenville, NC on WNCT. We both worked hard back then to be good Do Bees.

After high school I got married and moved to Florida and only saw Hank a few times. He came to Florida for a visit once and we talked for a long while about old times. On several occasions I saw Hank when I went back to North Carolina for a visit, but these times became rarer and rarer.

Even though we had grown apart, separated by time and distance, it is hard to lose an old friend of almost 60 years. I will miss Hank and the world has changed now that he is gone. I know he suffered many illnesses in his adult life but I also can rest assured he is resting peacefully now in the arms of God.

A joy I have today thinking about Hank is all the great times and memories we had together. He was and still is a great friend.

This too is part of growing up in Aurora, NC.

 




 

Thursday, August 19, 2010

A Boy From Down East - A Trip to the Tobacco Market


Growing up I went to the tobacco market with Granddaddy every opportunity I got.  Even if it meant spending hours there I was never bored.  Well, maybe a little bored, but I always enjoyed it.  I can still vividly remember the smells and sounds of the market. 
                                                                                   
The song of the auctioneer walking down the rows of tobacco with the buyers following him is hard to forget.  There was row after row of cured tobacco with each group of bundles brought by a different farmer hoping to get the best price of the day for his sale. 

Several years ago when I worked as an account manager for an industrial maintenance service provider I visited a cigarette plant near Macon, Georgia.  I had to park my car near the raw material receiving docks at the back of the facility.  As soon as I stepped out of my car I could smell the dried, cured tobacco and a feeling of nostalgia washed over me in a flood of memories of the tobacco market and Granddaddy.   As a long time ex-smoker who hates the smell of cigarette smoke I truly love the smell of cured tobacco.

Most years being the first to the market was very important, not as a point of pride but because the best money was paid for the early crops. By that time of year money was tight and the income was needed to keep going.  The first markets to open were the South Georgia markets. Usually Granddaddy and a couple of the other local small farmers would get together, put a load of their tobacco on a large truck and drive from North Carolina to the Georgia markets to get in on the first sales.  I never got to go on those trips.

There were many local tobacco markets in eastern North Carolina. When they opened Granddaddy would listen intently during lunch time to the market reports on the radio and read the reports in the newspaper trying to find which market was paying the best price.  I can remember him saying after the report, “We are going to the market in Greenville tomorrow with a load.  Do you want to come?” My answer was always “Yes.”  We got up before sunrise the next morning and loaded the truck with cured, sorted tobacco and off we went.  We had to get there early because we wanted to get a spot near the beginning of the auction line, not at the beginning but near it.  Granddaddy knew all the little tricks to help get a better price for his crop.

When we arrived and checked in we were given a lot number for our sale.  The buyers from the different tobacco companies would spend the first part of the morning walking around and looking at the various lots and making notes for the auction.  When the auction started the auctioneer began moving down the rows of tobacco and hesitating, not stopping, at each lot and never missing a beat of his bidding song.  The buyers followed behind him indicating their bids with a nod, a hand wave or some other special way.  There were other people next to the auctioneer who wrote up the sale as soon it was indicated and would leave a couple of copies of the sale paper on top of the lot.  One was for the company buying the lot and the other was for the farmer to cash out with.  Granddaddy would take his copy to the cashier window and they paid him on the spot.

There is one particular trip to the market that sticks out in my mind and Momma still gets a little aggravated every time it comes up.  I was around 5 or 6 years old and had been sick.  I had a follow-up visit scheduled that particular morning with my doctor, Dr. Malene Irons, in Greenville, NC.  Granddaddy was going to the market and agreed to take me to the doctor as it was near the market.  All was good as I got to go to the market with Granddaddy again.

On the way to Greenville that morning I guess Granddaddy got to thinking about what time my appointment was and what time he would get to the market and what space in line he would get.  After a lot of scheming and steaming he asked me if I knew where the market was to which I replied yes.  He went in with me to the doctor’s office, checked me in and told the receptionist, “When he is done call him a taxi. He knows where he has to go.”  He left and everyone was happy.

An hour later when I was done the receptionist made the call and I got into the taxi.  The driver looked at me and asked, “Where can I take you little man?”  I replied in my big man voice, “To the ‘bacca’ market.”  “Ok, which one?” he asked.  “In Greenville” I answered.

Now you have to understand that there were a lot of tobacco markets in Greenville not including the nearby communities.  But, to a 5 year old there was only the tobacco market that he went to with his Granddaddy.  The driver tried to get more information from me but to no avail so he began to drive by the various markets hoping I would recognize the right one.

After driving by 4 or 5 different markets we went past the old Pitt County Hospital and I remembered the market was near it.  The driver started laughing and said something like, “thank goodness.”  We pulled up in front of the market which I recognized immediately and we both walked in to look for Granddaddy so he could pay the driver.

On the way home Granddaddy got to thinking about what had happened and told me it might be best if I did not tell my mother about the taxi and our little adventure.  Now telling a 5 year old not to tell his mother was not the smartest thing to do.  As soon as I got home I ran as fast as I could and told Momma all the fun I had that day in every detail.  I have never seen my Momma get so mad and yell so loud.  Even Grandmomma got mad and yelled at Granddaddy and I believe this is one of the few times I ever heard her raise her voice.

As for me, I could hardly wait to go back to the tobacco market and have many, many more great adventures with my Granddaddy.