The first was of me as a young girl, standing behind a row of logs that had been dumped from the logging truck onto the skids, at our family's saw mill. We used a cant hook to grip and roll the logs to the carriage for sawing into slabs. Never heard of a cant hook? They are logging tools consisting of a wooden lever handle with a movable metal hook called a "dog" at one end, and used for handling and turning logs and cants.There were 10 of us kids, and as soon as we could half-way maneuver ourselves around obstacles, we were trained to work on our farm and at the sawmill. It was our way of life. Our existence. There were too many mouths to feed and bodies to cloth and keep well, for any of us to be idle...at any time. One of Dad's sayings was, "Idleness is the Devil's workshop." Dad was a wise man. Looking back, I realize what a gift we were given. A determined spirit was placed deep inside of us. Work is not a dirty word to me. I don't "have" to go to work. I GET to go to work. It's what feeds me, cloths me, nurtures me, and fills me with a sense of accomplishment.
But this logging truck took me so far back, it still envelopes my brain. So many dangers lurk in the Sawmill Industry. At least during the 1900's there were. Mills have become quite different than when I was young. More sophisticated, with glassed in carriage operations, where a log that might catch on the huge circular saw can't throw back and hit whoever is operating the carriage...or anyone standing near it. I don't know if they even need someone on the other end of the saw anymore. But, during the years I was part of the operation, someone had to catch those pieces that were cut off the log, and stack them, either for cut-off or for sale. If that person wasn't focused on the slab, or the piece being cut, it was very easy (and likely to happen) that piece would be thrown back at the one sawing or turning logs for the carriage.
The day it happened at our mill, I was doodling sawdust. Keeping it from piling up under the saw's blade. I don't remember if it was my sister, Becky, brother Rush, or an employee, that was off-bearing, at the time. But I do remember who it was that got hit. We had a neighbor that used to walk down to the mill on occasion, just to visit with Dad and the crew, and watch the production as it happened. He was standing just inside the back area of the carriage tracks when it happened. Everyone heard the whirl of the lumber hitting the saw blade. My dad's quick reflexes moved him from target, but Oscar Griffin received the hit. The piece made contact with his leg at such a speed, it flipped him over backwards as if he were an acrobat on a beam. I don't know why his leg wasn't broken...maybe it was, I just don't recall the final outcome of this event. I do know, however, that if Dad had been hit, it most likely would have taken his life. He was too close to the blade for it not to have had a much bigger impact than it did, at the distance it had to travel to reach the end of the tracks. Thankfully, Oscar survived the incident.
Another memory was one of the crazy chances I was always taking around dangerous things. I didn't fully respect the mill's strength until the day the carriage popped one of my fingers open, as if someone had taken a hammer to an apple. I was reaching far into the back of the sawdust pit to get it nice and tidy. So you see, this OCD stuff started early on in my life. It was a saw-dust pit, for crying out loud! But, I just couldn't leave one little mound of dust lying in that humongous pit. I placed my hand on the track just above the yawning mouth of the cave just after the carriage had run past the saw, moving forward. I knew it was coming back, but thought I had enough time, before it hit the track where I'd placed my hand for balance as I thrust the shovel deep inside the cave. I was wrong. There was a huge log on the carriage, which made the weight even heavier, and my little fingers just weren't able to bear the load. I felt it pop...I screamed...and my dad was at my side faster than I knew he could run. The scar is still there.
But that wasn't anything compared to what my brother Ken endured. He almost lost his life at the mill. He, too, was doodling the sawdust from the pit one day. There was a large chip that fell into the pit and was keeping him from getting to the dust in the far end, and not wanting it to pile up, he decided to crawl into the pit while the saw was in motion (Dad had warned us to never do this...but we were young and invincible), whirring away as it sliced through the log. The pit was deep. He would never had chanced it, had he thought he might make contact with the saw. But...he misjudged the distance and raised up just a little too soon. As the saw sliced through his skull, his reflexes caused him to reach for his head and the saw all but took his thumb, and ran the length of his arm, almost to his elbow. I was only a small child, still at home with Mom, but I will never forget the blood soaked over-alls my Dad wore that day. The details are blurry for me, but I think it was our neighbor who drove Dad and Ken to the hospital. Dad sat with Ken's head on his lap as the blood flowed from his badly torn body.
Ken's girl friend (now wife), Lola, was still in high school. We didn't have cell phones back then, so I'm guessing someone cut into our party line phones, told whoever was using the phone that they had an emergency call to make, and dialed the school..or maybe they just went there...I don't know. But Lola was eventually by his side during this long recovery. If my memory serves me correctly, he was given 3 shots directly into his heart, as he hovered on the edge of life and death, and I don't know how many blood transfusions (If you read this, Ken, please correct anything my young mind may have construed as truth). Every time I see him, I'm reminded of that day, and thank God He spared Ken's life, so that generations could come from him and Lola. I'm sure he's grateful, as well. My brother is a quiet man, humble, compassionate, and full of love for others in need. It may seem a small thing to him, but to me...well, he was instrumental in my salvation. Spiritually and naturally. He and my sister Becky. When I was pulled from the pit of despair (so-to-speak), it was by Ken's hands I was kept afloat, as I hammered out an existence worthy of life. He and the rest of my siblings put me through Cosmetology School, and he made sure I had gas money to get me back and forth. I gave up all that was keeping me from living life to the full, so when I came back home with nothing in my pockets, my brother Rush and wife Linda, gave me a place to live. Becky was my constant source of encouragement and protection, and Ken put cash in my hands.
Soon after graduation, I met Dennis...my husband of 40 plus years. Two weeks after our marriage, we were in a car wreck that broke my back in a couple of places. The car was totaled, so Ken gave us back the car he had purchased from me when Dennis and I married. He had wanted "the stereo system for Randy's car", and said he had no use for the car now. At the time he purchased it, Dennis had just acquired a new 1974 (5?) Monte Carlo, and we as young, and not really bright young people, couldn't afford two payments. That was an expensive stereo system, bro. But we all know why he took the car when he did. It was for his baby sister. So, the guy that God spared, way back when...has had an impact on my life, as well as all those he and Lola have taken under their wings in the years God has given them. *tearing up now...*
Other logging memories:
1. Fire Ants
2. Run away work horses
3. Ferns that fold up when you run your finger down their center. They live in abundance in wooded areas.
4. Hitching the work horses to chains to pull logs up on the truck bed.
5. Two way saws to cut down trees
6. Chopping a notch in the tree for it's directed fall
7. Cut Off Lumber
8. Hauling truck loads of fire wood (not good memories...sexual trauma)
9. Drunk neighbor finding a dead body in his front yard
10. Dad bringing home the homeless to feed
11. After a long, hot day, going into town for an ice cream cone. "You can have anything you want that doesn't cost more than 10 cents," my Dad would say, with a twinkle in his eye, and a smile on his face.
12. Gallon water jugs, wrapped in towels, to keep the ice from melting so quickly, during those triple digit days.
13. Walking back to the house for more water, as the now very warm, but thirst quenching water, runs dry (I always took my time...I hated working at the mill). 14. My sister, Becky. She's in all my memories, because she was always there for me. But that's another story.
A truck load of logs...wow!
As always...here, you'll find me...in Mary's World.
