Traveling the road to Black School

While walking to or from school, among the things enjoyed was eating persimmons and wild grapes. Of course, the times a persimmon was eaten before it had ripened left a bitter taste in the mouth.

A favorite subject of readers is related to childhood experiences while growing up on the farm. Coming in second relates to information about diabetes. This column is not about the experience of childhood; except for bringing back some of the memories.

Recently, we decided to travel over the road to go past where Black School, a one-room schoolhouse, was located. One of the things a person cannot do is to live in the past; we do not have those times anymore. We also cannot live in the future. The only time we have is right now -- a reason to make the most of every moment we have.

It had been many years since I had traveled over the old road, and to my surprise, it looked different. In some ways it was a shock to see the vast amount of difference. Part of it was looking at it as an adult rather than as a child.

The distance from our house to school was considered one and a half miles. The first quarter was on the highway to the road that was on the west side of our farm. Of course the farm where we lived has a different house and other things have been done at the farmstead. As we travel north on the gravel road, I was especially interested in what our farm looked like now, compared to how I remembered it. One of the things noticed was the good fence along the road.

On the west side of the road, I was looking at the land that once belonged to the Red Strange family. It also had good fencing for what is now a pasture. One of the first things I noticed, about a quarter of a mile from the highway, was a house. I guess I had noticed it before while traveling on the highway, but my eyes generally were on the farmstead coming up, and I paid little attention to it.

When I realized that the house was there, I could hardly believe it. That is where the old strip mines were located. Where did the mines go? The strip mine active back in the '30s was much smaller than the mines of the '50s. We referred to the shovel as the steam shovel. Again, by today's standards it was small, but in those days it was special.

About where the house is now located, the deepest hole of the mine was located. It served as a swimming hole for the neighborhood boys. I remember being there and seeing it, but I do not recall that I ever went swimming there -- for some reason. I do remember Allan Davis being among the boys that went swimming in that portion of the coal mine.

Allan was a close neighbor and older than me. I never went to school with him. Sunday, I got word via Jerry King that Allan had passed away. His services were held Tuesday. While thinking about the experience of traveling over the road, thoughts of his death added deeper memories to the events of that era of my life.

As we travel north, attention was still paid to the changes of what had been our farm. It is said that you do not own the land, but are only using it. That farm was our life -- 120 acres, where my folks reared two boys. That certainly is in the past. We covered that one-half mile and it appeared to be shorter to me.

The road goes west for a distance, and there is the place where the owners of the mine lived and several families since. When I was little, Dad worked at the coal mine. A distance to the west the road turns north again. The entire road is well graveled. I am not sure it was always that way while we were in school. As we turn north, I wondered what had happened to the Osage Oranges. The old hedge along the road was not there any more. Often we used to play or throw the Osage Oranges. Now there is a good fence along the road.

I was looking for a house on the east side of the road. It was not there; instead it has been replaced with a double-wide, located closer to the road. Farther north, where the persimmons and wild grapes were located, are no such fruits, now. What a difference about 60 years made. There were other things that I observed and other things to which I wished that I had paid more attention, such as a small hill that had an outcrop of rock. Is it still there? It was in the '50s, when Black was consolidated into Butler and the school house was torn down. The only thing that remains is the old well. Gone is the flag pole that was located near the well. I remember the pole well and the clinking noise it made on a windy day. Gone are the school house, the concrete front porch, the building where the coal was located, the swings and teeter-totters and the out houses.

The school grounds are now a part of a pasture. On the ground are several large hay bales -- another thing which did not exist during my school days.

The house and farmstead located southeast of the school appeared much closer than it did during the years I attended Black School.

Patty Scifers was two or three grades ahead of me. I remember that she and her sister Shirley were in the group of us walking home and when we got to the first turn, they cut through to their home. I learned yesterday that she had died in recent days.

Each of you has had experiences of going back where you had been in a previous time. My experience is not different from anyone else's. Some time I would like to walk from where our house was to where the school was, but for now these thoughts are some that I had recently when I traveled the road to Black School once again.