The Gray Box

Many years passed with the people of the South toiling and trying to recover from the losses and humiliation they had suffered at the hands of the Northern invaders.  For some, the hard work paid off and for some, it did not! The outcome of the Civil War had financially and personally affected many southern families and the physiological make up of future generations!

It is inconceivable how bigotry and self pity were passed on from generation to generation that seemed to have poisoned the minds and suppressed the financial and spiritual growth of many southern families for many years to come! Another major setback was to occur that would eventually rock the foundation of our Nation…this time both North and South would feel the pain and agony!

In 1929, the stock market crashed resulting in the failure of our Nations economy.  Cotton prices fell to an all time low!  The depression era had begun!  The depression of that time affected everyone and all businesses.  There was no escape…people had to do what they had to do for survival!  Our family was no different and did not escape the poverty of which we seemed to be destined for as there was no work, money or much food for families to survive on. 

Living in Arkansas at that time was very hard for families to stay together!  The men, including my dad, would have to travel away from their homes to find work.  To do this, the standard mode of travel for most males was riding the rails! When away from their families during these hard and difficult times, many family men were forced to live the life of a hobo on the road while trying to earn a daily wage!  As Prohibition was in force, many had their own moonshine operations and made their corn liquor to trade or sell---this simply was a sign of the times for people to survive especially those with a very limited education!

Dad would put a lot of his attention and energy in distilling and selling boot-leg whiskey!  He and his pals would make their batches, sell or trade what they could and drink the rest!  Many times, it appeared they drank more than they sold or traded!

Dad and his friends would wear their brimmed felt hats cocked to one side of their head and really considered themselves suave by Arkansas standards!  However, as suave as they might have thought themselves to be, they never seemed to have any money or a pot to spit in!

Dad married my mother in 1935 and continued to live in Arkansas where he tried to scrape out a meager living by painting homes and doing carpentry work!  He was a very good painter and craftsman which inspired him to do his best when he worked!  However, work was not plentiful which made us live a life of poverty and uncertainty!

I was born in 1936 and would eventually become the oldest of ten children.  One day in 1939 while dad was doing a carpentry job, he took me to work with him to play in the sawdust and keep him company!  I watched as he made a large sized wooden box from scrap pieces of wood. He sandpapered it, put hinges on the lid with a lock hasp and painted it gray. To a young boy, it appeared to be a very fine piece of workmanship!  He would use the gray box to keep his private and personal belongings in for many years!

Dad seemed to have two personalities, one for his friends and the other for his family at home!  When he would start talking or yelling, every other word in his sentences would be a swear word!  Sometimes, when he would get real mad, he’d forget what cuss words he had already used--he would then gasp, spit and stutter, get redder in the face and use the same cuss words over and over!  Those brave enough would snicker and laugh!  Even with these short comings, he seemed to be popular and well liked by his peers!  He had a sense of humor and always seemed to have a good time when he was around his friends—but when at home he was quite intimidating and did not show much love toward his family which created a very stressful atmosphere!

 We were always told never to mess around or play on the gray box!  Because of his adamant instructions, an aura of mystery was created in our young minds pertaining to the contents of the gray box!  We each had our own personal cardboard box that contained ‘our private stuff’ which was also considered off limits to anyone else, so we understood and respected our dad’s right of privacy regarding his gray box!

For a number of years I remained obedient and would not have thought of molesting the gray box in any way! However, one day while Dad was away, my brother Grady and I succumbed to a youngster’s inquisitiveness and planned to enter into the world of mystery surrounding the gray box!  We used an old butter knife to take out the screws holding the rear lid hinges in place to finally satisfy our many years of obvious curiosity and wonderment!

  With the front lock still intact and our hearts pulsating out of control, we nervously looked at each other while lifting the lid up off the gray box hoping to find a worldly treasure of gold coins or maybe something of equal value!?  To our surprise, we found nothing but family photos, including many pictures of us kids in various stages of life and a few pocket knives that dad had previously confiscated from my brother and I!  While quickly re-attaching the hinges I felt ashamed for invading my Dad’s realm of privacy!  However, on that day, I discovered and realized that our Dad did indeed love us but did not know how to show it!

Mom and dad divorced after twenty-five years of marriage with both remarrying.  Dad died in 1987 with all of his worldly belongings going to his second wife except for the photos in the gray box which was recovered by one of my sisters!  I laid claim to the gray box that had secretly guarded the unspoken love our father once had for his family! If the gray box could only speak, it would have many stories to tell of the hidden love my Dad felt for his family but was not capable of telling them!  I still have in my possession the gray box that is now seventy years old and one day will be looking for a new home! 

          I think about and attempt to honor my Father almost on a daily basis.  I deeply feel that he has found peace and happiness and is patiently and joyously waiting for his family to join him where he may personally tell them of the love that he once felt toward them, but never learned how to express it in his mortal life!  Like the rest of us, my dad was certainly not without fault!  It appeared that at certain intervals in his life he tried to change for the better with very little or no encouragement from others who constantly thought the worst in and of him and refused to let him make a change.

          “If you treat a person as they could be, they will become as they should be.  If you treat a person as they are, they will remain as they are!”