Dad's
wisdom sure
paid off for
my future
By W. T.
Block
Reprinted
from the
Beaumont
Enterprise,
Saturday
November 28,
1998.
NEDERLAND --
I don’t
suppose a
ten-year-old
boy ever lived
who didn’t
wish to direct
his future
differently
from what his
parents
desired. And I
was no
exception.
In 1930, life
for me meant
the usual farm
chores,
shucking and
shelling corn,
milking cows,
along with
oodles of
school
homework to be
done after
dark. And on
weekends I
always caught
a dozen pages
of grammar and
spelling,
which I hated
most.
I suppose I
wanted to live
life just like
Leroy and
Augustine did,
who were the
only two boys
I ever knew
who never went
to school a
day in their
lives. They
lived in one
of the
houseboats
tied up in
Gray’s Bayou,
across Neches
River from
Unocal docks.
If I missed a
day of school,
the truant
officer would
be down on my
neck next day,
but a truant
officer
couldn’t get
to Gray’s
Bayou.
However, most
houseboat kids
I knew did
attend school.
Dad and I
usually went
by boat to
Gray’s Bayou
once every
month to see
Leroy’s
father, Old
Rob, who
worked often
on our farm
and took care
of Dad’s
cattle on the
east side of
the river.
I remember
once, when
Leroy was
showing me how
to throw a
fish spear, I
remarked,
"Goodness,
Leroy! It’s a
lot harder
than I
thought."
"Aw, Bill,"
he responded,
"hit ain’t so
hard. You jist
ain’t hardly
got the hang
of it yit. You
can’t larn
spear-fishin’
in books, you
know."
My ear drums
winced at his
erroneous
speech, but I
said nothing.
I knew a
couple
teachers that
would have
kept Leroy
after school,
washed his
mouth out with
lye soap, and
whacked the
palms of his
hands with a
big ruler, for
using such bad
grammar.
Leroy’s
brother,
Augustine, was
only a year
older than I,
but already he
could slice
the hide off a
ten-foot
alligator in
ten minutes
and steak his
tail as well.
And one day
they fed me
gator tail
steak at their
houseboat, but
told me it was
catfish.
Leroy and
Augustine were
truly my idols
and I could
scarcely hide
my admiration
for them. I
longed to live
the same kind
of life they
did, which
certainly
would have
made Huck Finn
green with
envy. One
could see that
as Augustine
slid his
Barlow knife
blade beneath
a gator’s
skin, it was
guided by the
touch of a
master, and I
marveled at
all the other
things they
could do that
I couldn’t.
One day, as
Dad rowed our
boat back to
Block’s Bayou,
I asked him,
"Can I have a
Barlow knife
like Leroy
has? I really
need it for
farm chores."
"Not just
now, William,"
he replied. "A
Barlow knife
cost $1, which
is how much I
pay a field
hand for 12
hours work.
Leroy and
Augustine need
a good knife
to clean fish,
skin muskrats
and
alligators,
and such, but
I want a
better life
for you than
that!"
And that was
the trouble
with Pa -
always wanting
something for
me that I
didn’t want
for myself. I
vowed then and
there that as
soon as I was
old enough,
I’d get me a
houseboat and
live the same
life that
Leroy did.
Actually, the
Great
Depression
wound down and
World War II
came along,
and I never
did acquire
that
houseboat, or
live the life
on the river
that I adored.
Also, as Mark
Twain
reputedly said
- it was
remarkable how
much wisdom my
Dad had
acquired by
the end of my
teenage years.
W. T. Block
of Nederland
is a historian
and author.
His website is
http://block.dynip.com/wtblockjr/
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