Kinda long. If not your thing, just don't read it. I was in a writing mood.
Mr. Luther Samford seemed old when I as a six year old boarded the bus, old Tallapoosa County Number 1, for my first day of school. He drove that bus most of my elementary and high school career to Reeltown High School. When you went in the front door in elementary school you turned left. In high school you turned right. There were a little over 200 students total, first grade through twelve, 28 in my graduating class.
Mr Luther was a short, dried up little man. A permanent fixture at the Coon Creek Hunting Club, he never missed a hunt. He would show up in his old ankle length wool WWI coat with his 12 gauge double barrel shotgun as sure as the sun rising. One day between drives we were sitting outside the clubhouse in the sun when Mr. Luther, by then surely in his mid-eighties, said out of the blue, "Boys, I need a woman." Our ears all perked up. "I need a young woman, no older than 70 or so." He really had our attention now. "Now, I ain't gonna bother her like y'all are thinking. I'll marry her to keep it respectable. I'll provide her a house to live in and will buy her a car. All I want her to do is drive me where I want to go." As far as I know Mr. Luther never found her.
Once when Mr. Luther was surely 90 or better , the guy who normally gave him a ride didn't hunt that day. A few minutes before the hunt began Mr. Luther came walking in, having carried that shotgun the 3 miles plus from his house. I had abandoned the dog deer drives by then, preferring still hunting, but had taken my son there to expose him to the kind of old-timers that every kid should experience. We gave Mr. Luther a ride home later. The front porch ran the length of the front of the old farm house and it was stacked nearly floor to ceiling with split firewood, with openings for only the front door and a window. I commented on the firewood and asked who cut it for him. He gave me a "you idiot" look and said, "I did!"
Coon Creek threw a party for Mr. Luther on his 95th birthday. He didn't live much longer than that. Sitting here at age 73 and all crippled up, not able to hunt or fish or do much of anything physical anymore, I got to thinking about Mr. Luther cutting, splitting and stacking firewood at 90 and going hunting until he died past 95. They don't make many of that kind anymore.
Mr. Luther Samford seemed old when I as a six year old boarded the bus, old Tallapoosa County Number 1, for my first day of school. He drove that bus most of my elementary and high school career to Reeltown High School. When you went in the front door in elementary school you turned left. In high school you turned right. There were a little over 200 students total, first grade through twelve, 28 in my graduating class.
Mr Luther was a short, dried up little man. A permanent fixture at the Coon Creek Hunting Club, he never missed a hunt. He would show up in his old ankle length wool WWI coat with his 12 gauge double barrel shotgun as sure as the sun rising. One day between drives we were sitting outside the clubhouse in the sun when Mr. Luther, by then surely in his mid-eighties, said out of the blue, "Boys, I need a woman." Our ears all perked up. "I need a young woman, no older than 70 or so." He really had our attention now. "Now, I ain't gonna bother her like y'all are thinking. I'll marry her to keep it respectable. I'll provide her a house to live in and will buy her a car. All I want her to do is drive me where I want to go." As far as I know Mr. Luther never found her.
Once when Mr. Luther was surely 90 or better , the guy who normally gave him a ride didn't hunt that day. A few minutes before the hunt began Mr. Luther came walking in, having carried that shotgun the 3 miles plus from his house. I had abandoned the dog deer drives by then, preferring still hunting, but had taken my son there to expose him to the kind of old-timers that every kid should experience. We gave Mr. Luther a ride home later. The front porch ran the length of the front of the old farm house and it was stacked nearly floor to ceiling with split firewood, with openings for only the front door and a window. I commented on the firewood and asked who cut it for him. He gave me a "you idiot" look and said, "I did!"
Coon Creek threw a party for Mr. Luther on his 95th birthday. He didn't live much longer than that. Sitting here at age 73 and all crippled up, not able to hunt or fish or do much of anything physical anymore, I got to thinking about Mr. Luther cutting, splitting and stacking firewood at 90 and going hunting until he died past 95. They don't make many of that kind anymore.
)
