Maeburl Tincher
The year was 1948 and I was 12 years old. It was early fall and school had begun.
Every year, we got new school clothes which included nice shoes, pretty dresses and a cardigan sweater.
On this one special day before going to school, Mama told me to get off the bus that evening and go to Maude and Joe Elliott’s. She needed me to pick up some milk and butter.
Growing up in those days, things were done much differently than they are now. Neighbors depended on each other and communities had close bonds.
On this particular day, my good friend Anna – affectionately nicknamed “Junie” – got off the bus with me to run the milk errand.
Upon my arrival, Maude carefully packed the gallon jar of milk and the fresh butter in a 25-pound flour sack.
These sacks were used for many things.
Mama transformed them into pillowcases, dish towels and pretty little pinafores to adorn our dresses.
She was a good seamstress.
On the way back – at a steep ravine – I spotted a nice big vine that had been cut short.
Many a child had broken an arm or a leg in their pursuit of a thrill and many leery parents would cut the vines so short children couldn’t reach them to swing.
It was a favorite pastime that mountain children enjoyed.
On my tip toes, I could reach this one and decided to go for a ride.
I pulled it back as far as I could to get a good running start.
As I flew over the bank, I caught a snag and heard a loud rip! The whole backside of my beautiful new dress now graced that raggedy ole snag. My heart sank, but I held on tight. My life depended on getting back to where I started.
I was relieved that I hadn’t killed myself, but worried about how I was going to explain this to Mama. She always said I wasn’t happy unless I was trying to work my way out of something – and it was always something!
I tied my pretty cardigan around my waist to keep my undies from showing, mustered my pride and carried on. Junie provided intense moral support by horse-laughing me all the way down the creek.
The railroad ran through the bottom of Jack Branch. We decided to stop and rest on the tracks. It came time for us to move on. As I was getting up, I threw the sack over my shoulder and heard the wreck of my cargo! The sack had not cleared the rails. There went the milk and there went the butter, and there was another dilemma!
Now I was really dreading going home and I thought of every lie I could conjure up to explain to Mama why I was arriving home late, half-naked and empty handed!
Before I got home, I came to the conclusion that telling the truth – no matter how hard it was – was the right thing to do and since I had an eyewitness, I decided to take her home with me for back-up support.
After explaining the events of the day, I rested my case and waited on the sentence. Instead of a harsh punishment, I somehow found favor and got a full pardon.
Thank God for a good friend and a mother who understood her child’s dilemma.
This is the debut of a monthly column by lifelong Jack Branch resident Maeburl Tincher.