Many of you who read The Dispatch have had similar stories, or are living them even now.
I have lived with one foot in the rural country and one foot in the urban jungle. Having gone to school (twice) in Eupora, Mississippi (population 2,096) and also London, England, I’ve seen both sides of life.
The best times of my youth, before my family moved to Columbus, were spent in the woods of Mississippi and on my uncle’s farm and my grandmother’s farmhouse. My Yankee Dad (and I say that lovingly) was in the service and would be sent around the world.
My Eupora-born mother was never well and often in a hospital.
My uncle and aunt, along with their four kids, took me in as a member of their loving family. Several times. We played, laughed, went to church and occasionally would catch the “switch” on our backside when we behaved badly as kids do sometimes.
We were all equal, and I was treated as the number five kid.
The school bus would come lumbering down the gravel road and load us in for the trip to town, after we ate a hefty breakfast. That always included my Aunt Katherin’s huge, made from scratch biscuits and syrup.
The boys – me and my cousins Joe and Billy – would spend hours out in the woods pretending we were hunting with our BB guns and building campfires. We would “appropriate” a little of my Uncle Glenwood’s tobacco to smoke in our roughly made pipes while out there, coughing and choking, but feeling grown up.
Our neighbor Judge Woods had a big field of prize watermelons, some of which would disappear after we slipped past the fence. If we had been caught, our backsides would have borne the cost.
What is more thrilling for boys than to ride up and down the gravel roads with a 12 year old at the wheel of an old farm pickup, with the rest of us riding in the bed, whooping like Apache warriors?
I was jealous that my cousins had .22 caliber rifles hanging above their beds. That kind of thing was nirvana for a young male at the time. It was a magical time for young boys. We were livin’ the dream.
When I reluctantly ended up in the modern city environment of South Florida, I found that there is nothing there that compares to that country life.
If you have a flat tire or a breakdown in Eupora… no worry. That car pulling up behind you means help is on the way. In West Palm Beach, the same scene means that you better have put your Glock under the seat when you left home. Especially at night. In Webster County, a car jacking means you pump the jack up to change the tire.
I could write page after page about the differences, but it would all be the same in tone and substance. It’s all about the people in each place.
If you are one who is living that country life right now, I am extremely jealous of you. Appreciate it.
Thom Caraccio ([email protected]) is a retired musician and retired motion picture scenic artist living in West Palm Beach, Florida who hails from Columbus. He graduated from S.D. Lee High in 1968 and still considers Columbus his real hometown.
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You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 30 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
