Clyde McCulley - The Boy on Shady Grove Road: A Childhood of the 1940s and 50s in the South
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A year before his death, we visited again and talked and laughed about our childhood experiences. Sometimes each of us remembered things a bit differently. This is natural as each sees through different eyes. These little stories are what I saw
through my eyes, things as I remember them.I think Kenny would approve.
I miss you, man.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
So much appreciation goes to Ann Kimmage, author and retired writing professor, who graciously offered to tutor me as I was writing and encouraged me to continue until the story was finished.
Also a big thank you to Kurt Ganter, an old colleague from our college teaching days who edited the transcript and gave
encouragement. Also thanks to Michele Ganter for her reading
through the transcripts and helping with the grammar. My dear
friend Nancy Greenleaf for offering to give it one last read and made suggestions.
My special thanks goes to my daughter Sheri for the concept and design of the cover and to Tom, Sheris husband, for his editing suggestions and interior text formatting and page design.
I also want to recognize family members who have encouraged me along the way, my wife Susan for her continued support and encouragement, my daughter Rhonda and her husband Jesse, who reminded me of stories I had told she and Sheri when they were children, my nephews and nieces, Velma, Michael, Lisa, Deborah, Hue, Iris, Ivan, Martha, Sidney and Al and the sweet memories of Howard and Gary Joe.
And to my two step-sons, Jim and Matt, and all the grandkids whocomplete the package: Justin, Shelby, Austin, Logan, Alice and Benjamin.
The Boy on Shady Grove Road is a work of nonfiction. Some names and identifying details have been changed.Copyright 2016 by Clyde McCulleyAll rights reserved
Published in the United States by Story Night PressPortland, Maine
www.storynightpress.com
I was the last born of six kids into a poor family, in a poor community, on a poor farm with poor soil about three miles from town. My oldest brother, George, was nineteen when I was born. The next youngest to me was my sister, Mary, who was eight years old when I came along.
World War Two was raging and families were rationed food, gas and tires for automobiles by the government. Food was the only thing that affected us since we did not have an automobile. We only had an old farm wagon and two old horses.
As a young child, I did not know we were poor. I had nothing to compare to our lifestyle. I was never hungry or unloved. I thought this was the way people lived.
All I wanted was a little brother to play with. My older sister, Lucy, married and had a baby, Kenny, when I was three years old. He soon grew enough for me to play with. I was his uncle, but to me we were brothers. That was what was important.
Our house was on Shady Grove Road. You cant find it by that name on a county map, because the county had never named it when I was a kid. They just had a number for it on the county map. The neighbors who live on it named it themselves. It was named Shady Grove Road, because at the very end of the road, down by the Little Rock Highway, there was a little gift shop named Shady Grove Gift Shop.
The shop had all kinds of yard ornaments, birdbaths and Chenille bedspreads hanging on lines outside the shop. It also had little junky trinkets that people bought for souvenirs. It was nestled in a shady grove of large pine trees. There was a sign outside that said, If you cant stop, Honk as you go by. I guess a lot of people liked that, because there was a lot of honking.
So, because of the junky little Shady Grove Gift Shop, we had our own name for our road. I think it is a great name for a road, Shady Grove Road, the road I was born on. It should have been named that on the county map.
I hope that this little Memoir of my formative years, living as The Boy on Shady Grove Road, will give a picture of how important a simple sandy road can be to a small poor boy as he strives to understand the complexities of life.
MY BEGINNINGS
A little four-room house, a small barn, a few old sheds and an out-house on five acres of poor sandy land half way between Little Rock and Hot Springs, Arkansas was the home place of my beginnings as a child in 1941.Little House on Shady Grove Road
My Daddy was sixty years old and my mother was forty when Iwas born in my house, in their bed. Daddy walked to town to get thedoctor, but by the time Daddy and the doctor got there, all that was leftto do was to circumcise me.
My Daddy married my Momma when he was forty years old andshe was only twenty. They met when my mother visited her halfbrother, Marvin, in Memphis, Tennessee. Uncle Marvin lived nextdoor to my father and his mom and dad. They had a nice house, nicefurniture and five children, George, Willy, Lucy, Sue and Mary.
Daddy worked for the Otis Elevator Company as a mechanic.During the 1930s my father lost his job with the elevator company.Nobody ever talked about why my Daddy lost his job. I wondered, butnever asked.
He had saved some money and the family lived on it until it wasalmost gone. In 1938 Daddy moved the family to a small ruralcommunity of Congo, Arkansas, about eight miles from Benton, thecounty seat, to try to make a living. My Mommas half-sister, Ola, andher husband Judd lived near there and it was the reason they settled inthe area. They moved their good furniture with them. He found cheapland and tried to farm it. It was quite rocky and did not produce.
He later decided they needed to move to another place, perhaps to aplace with better soil.
He moved Momma and their five kids to the house on Shady GroveRoad in 1940. Daddy paid five hundred dollars for the four-roomhouse, one small barn, a chicken house, a shed and an outdoor toilet. Itsat on five acres of sandy land.
Shady Grove Road was a small dirt road. The house was near thecorner of Congo Road, which was gravel. The house was three milesfrom town. It had no electricity or running water. Daddy did not have acar, only two skinny old horses, Smoky and Dan, an old cow namedCow and a wagon. Most of the people on our road were poor and withlittle education. The Depression had been hard and many neverseemed to recover.
President Roosevelt was trying to help the poor with some of hisnew programs. He had a big job on his hands. My Daddy would notaccept the welfare money the President offered the poor. Pride, I guess.
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