headed for my favorite spot—the monstrous sawdust pile.
When the sawmill was operating, a conveyor belt carried the sawdust away from the mill and dumped it on the top of the mound, where it cascaded down in all directions. That’s what I wanted to do, slide down that sawdust pile.
On many occasions I had been told to stay off the pile because it might cave in, suck me under, and I would smother or burn up because there was a fire inside it. But I knew those were just tales everyone told to scare me away from the sawmill.
At the base of the sawdust mountain, I found a scrap board on which I carefully stacked my eleven nickels and laid my canvas bag. I knew that if my money fell out of my pocket during a slide it would be lost forever.
Climbing up was difficult. My bare feet sank past my ankles while I clawed upward with my hands. I stopped midway up, looked down and thought about sliding back to the bottom from there. But I decided to struggle on to the top for the ultimate thrill of sliding all the way down.
When I arrived at the summit, just as I had from the lumber stacks, I peeked over and surveyed the road, the store, and Mrs. Blossom’s house. There were no sounds or movement anywhere. Everything seemed frozen in the heat of the day.
Turning, I gazed downward and started running to get a good start. It was like running in slow motion. After several steps, I threw my feet into the air, landed on my seat, and watched the world go racing by.
After a soft landing—covered with sawdust from head to toe—I climbed back up and checked out the world around me again.
Everything still looked the same, but just to be safe I carefully looked all around the sawmill knowing someone could have come through the woods just as I had, see me, tell on me, and eventually I would be feeling the sting of a long switch from a peach tree.
The only thing that bothered me was that the door to the old black tar-papered shack off to the right was open. Was it open before? I couldn’t remember, but somehow it bothered me.
I decided that after this slide I should vacate the sawmill area, but I wanted to make it a good one, so I moved a quarter of the way around the mountain to smooth sawdust. The move took me out of the sight of my belongings below.
Once again, the world sped by while I surfed the sawdust all the way to the bottom. Again, I was completely covered with it. I slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt, shook them vigorously, quickly put them back on, and walked around the sawdust pile to retrieve my money and Grit bag. But when I arrived where I had left them, I stood there stunned. I couldn’t believe it. They were both gone!
2
Standing there staring at that empty piece of scrap lumber realizing that my little fortune, as well as my prized canvas bag containing the envelope with the forty-five cents I owed the Grit paper were gone, I silently began to cry. I thought I felt the worst I had ever felt in my young life; that is until I heard the deep gruff voice behind me ask, “What’s yo’ name, boy?”
I started to run, but I was just too scared. Slowly, I turned to face the voice and there stood the blackest man I had ever seen. He was well over six feet tall and needed a shave, but was handsome even in his overalls and sweat-stained work shirt. Most importantly, and much to my relief, he was grinning. It was a friendly disarming grin which gave flight to my fear.
“Cat got yo’ tongue, boy?”
“Uh, no sir.”
“Den what’s yo’ name?”
“Uh, Ted. Ted Dillon, sir.”
“You one of Mister J. D.’s boys?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can forget dat ‘sir’ business. You don’t wants no white folks hearing you ‘sir-ing’ a black man. You gots some brothers, too, don’t you?”
I wasn’t afraid anymore and I knew he was correct, that I would be called down hard if I was to be heard calling him “sir.” “Yeah, I got two brothers,” I answered.
“What’s dey names?”
“My oldest brother is Ned, then Fred, then me.”
“And you Ted. My, my. Why you think yo’ momma named y’all all dem rhyming names?”
“I don’t know. Guess they were the only ones she could think of.”
“No, I ’spect maybe she a poet. You needs to learn to look at things a little harder and think a little deeper. Things ain’t always what dey seems to be on the surface.”
I knew I needed to think about that a while, so I just said, “Uh, okay.”
“And you can be proud to have Mister J. D. for yo’ daddy. He a good man. I sho wouldn’t want to get into no scuffle wid him. He know you messing around dis here sawmill?”
“No. You gonna tell on me?”
“I don’t know. I gots to think on it a while.”
At that I figured I might as well cut a switch on the way home, because come late Monday when my father came home from work and told my mother, she would be using it on me. I guess my new acquaintance saw the look on my face and felt sorry for me because he said, “We might be able to work something out, Ted. By de way, my name is Jake.”
I reached out and shook his big rough hand and asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean if you make me a promise, I might forget about yo’ visit today.”
I asked cautiously, “What do I have to promise?”
“Dat you won’t play around dis sawmill by yoself no mo. It’s a dangerous place. Why, a log could roll on you, and what if you had slipped up on dat slab ramp and fell in dat fire pit? You would’ve been fried crisper dan a piece of fatback. Now, if you’ll make me dat promise, I won’t ever tell a soul about you being here today. How ’bout it?”
I had to think about this. I could take a switching, but I couldn’t give up the sawmill forever. I decided to see if he would compromise. “Could I still just slide down the sawdust pile?”
“Only if someone else is wid you, including me.”
I figured that was the best I could get so I said, “It’s a deal. I promise.”
“Dat’s a good boy. Come on over here by my fire and let’s talk for a few minutes.”
I followed him over to beside the tar paper shack where he had a big bed of hot coals he had shoveled from the fire pit. A coffee pot was bubbling away. I watched as he picked up a blue tin cup off the ground and pulled a big red handkerchief from his pocket which he used as a hot pad to pour his coffee. Then he sat on a block of wood and said, “Ted, besides promising to stay away from de dangers of dis sawmill, I think you learned another lesson today.”
Only then did I remember my money and my bag. I knew he must have taken them, but I wasn’t quite sure yet if I should ask him,
