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| George Buster Singleton |
Preparation for the 4th of July celebration would always start on the afternoon of the 3rd. The fires for the barbecue would be started earlier that morning so that everything would be ready to start the cooking shortly after noon. The menfolks of the community would gather for an afternoon of entertainment and story swapping. Strong coffee was always ready in several large pots there by the coals. And, always several watermelons lay in the shade, should anyone want a slice of a rip juicy melon.
The meat cooking would always last into the late hours of the night as more and more yards and stories rode the winds around the cooking fires. If one or two tired of the tall tales, there was always a set of horseshoes around, always ready for a contest between the better players of the farm community. Several lanterns would be lighted as the shadows of darkness settled over the cooking area down by the large overflowing well located on a high bank overlooking the large creek that flowed through the area.
The large sandy creek bank would be covered with several small boys, dressed in old cut off overalls. The large swimming hole in the creek would be the center of activity for these as each tried to outdo the others with their skills of diving off the high bank or seeing who could stay under the water the longest. Most always, the highlight of the afternoon would be when I would bring a large bull that we had on the farm down to the creek. I would come riding down to the creek sitting up on the large bull’s head, holding on to his horns. Since I was too small to climb up his back without assistance, “El Sid” would hold his head down close to the ground and a small boys of five years old would climb aboard, sitting on his large head, holding on to his horns.
As the large bull approached the creek, everyone moved to the opposite side of the swimming hole as “El Sid” slowly made his way into the deep waters of the creek. The large animal would stand there in the deep cool water as the small boys climbed up on his back and dived into the clear waters of the creek. Sometimes, this would go on for a whole afternoon, or until all of the boys tired of the game of diving off “El Sid’s” back. The large bull seemed to enjoy the diving and fun as much as the young boys did. He would never move. For his services, the large bull was given several pieces of watermelon rind or whatever that was handy of left over from the cook fires. And, as the dark shadows began to settle around the area a small boy would mount the head of his trusty steed, while three or four of his friends sat on the animal’s back, laughing and talking. The huge bull would slowly make his way with his load of boys back to the barnyard.
The early morning of the 4th of July would begin with much activity as things began to get under way for the holiday celebration. If the weather was permissible, three or four large plank tables had been put together there by the overflowing well. If rain was the order of the day, a large equipment shed had been cleaned out and the activities would take place there. The families of the farming community would began to gather around 9 a.m. Some of the early arrivals might have already gotten a horseshoe game going. Or, the young boys were beginning to formulate a game of marbles. But, as the young girls and their mothers appeared on the scene, things began to settle down. Good manners and being nice was the order of the day. The fathers of the community saw to this.
The large coffee pots with their strong coffee brewing had begun to give off an inviting odor. Large tin cups sat on a table and all one had to do was to pour a cup and add the necessary additives from another table nearby. It wouldn’t be long before large blocks of ice was brought in wrapped up in heavy cotton sacks. Lemonade and ice tea appeared on the scene and the younger of the gathering lined up for the cold refreshments. If one was quick and sly enough, he just might be able to snitch a slice of potato pie or a slice of egg custard without anyone being the wiser. But, if the young sprout was caught, a tongue lashing was in order along with the promise of worst things to come upon return home later that evening.
Most times a fiddle and a guitar would appear from somewhere in the gathering and some square dancing would take place. It was expected and encouraged by the parents for the youth to participate in the dancing. As the small youth whirled around and around, the parents would clap their hands and shout suggestions and instructions to their youngsters that were taking part. As the fun times began to wind down, all knew that before too long the announcement that it was time to eat would sound over the gathering.
As quietness settled on the gathering of friends and families, an old retired preacher would give the blessing. Brother Paige left out nothing in his prayer as his choice of words thrilled the soul of a young boy who stood with his head bowed. Finally, the Amens were said, and the oldest of the group stepped to the head of the line. The youth at the celebration stood back as the elders passed through the line, filling their plates. Many of the older youth assisted in helping the elderly in carrying their plates and helping them get seated. Then usually, a contest of some sort was held to see who would get to go through the line first. But again, the young country girls, many dressed in beautiful gingham dresses, were allowed to get ahead of the group of young roustabouts that brought up the rear of the line.
An old black man and old lady (Uncle Tony and Aunt Lellia) was always present for the celebration. Their plates were prepared before anyone else. Due to their age and their place in the community, they were waited on by everyone. If anyone left the tables without getting enough food, it was their own fault. Several small boys always ate too much and was scolded for doing so, by their parents or grandparents, telling them that they were going to have the stomach ache.
Finally the wonderful meal would come to a close. There would be a few who continued to drink the strong black coffee and eat a slice or two of the potato pie. Quietness had begun to settle down over the youth because the time was near when Uncle Tony and Aunt Lellia would begin their story telling. Quietness settled like a blanket over the group a as each in turn told the hair raising tales of their youth. Aunt Lellia would always tell a few ghost stories that she had experienced over the many years of her life. She would also relate the story of how she delivered me on that story night that I was born. Then I would have to come over and stand by her so she could show me off. Next, Uncle Tony would relate to the group some of the stories of his life as a slave during his early childhood. A young boy and his wide eyed friends never missed a word as the old man and old lady walked the pages of history of their early years.
A half hearted invitation was given to anyone who might want a slice of delicious watermelon. After the earlier meal, there were very few takers. Finally, it was announced that the ice cream was ready. The large hand turned ice cream freezer had been in action since the middle of the morning. No one turned down this invitation.
As the sun slowly began to settle in the west, the families began to gather up their things and say goodbye to the group. Each made a special trip to where Aunt Lellia and Uncle Tony sat, to get a tight hug and pate on the back by the aged couple. Most times, each was told goodbye by the elderly two because neither believed that they would be alive for another 4th of July celebration. As the crowd began to dwindle, a small boys was called by his wonderful mother and given some more ice cream, making him promise not to tell, as though it would really matter. And a darling Aunt Lellia would inform the five year old boy that she was going to save a piece of pecan pie or some ginger cakes for him for the coming tomorrow. Memories, memories, wonderful memories.
(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, was bitten at least twice by venomous snakes, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)
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