Singleton shares memories of growing up in the Great Depression

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “A country boy’s fond memories,” was originally published in the April 17, 2003 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

As long as I live, I will always continue to believe that those who didn’t lived through some of the Great Depression in their youth missed some of life’s finer moments.

This is not to say that I would like our country to go through another period of hard times like this period in our history, but this time in our past was quite unique.

In talking to some of the older members of our society about this time in our history, the things that are remembered are always about hard work, lack of money, hard to come by things that were needed for the families to survive. But always, if one listens long enough, always a story or two of the good times that were had will always burst forth.

Our modern society and our so-called progress that we have made since the time of the Great Depression has produced a generation or two that don’t know one thing about the finer things in life.

Take, for example, tomato gravy. Very few of our youth of today even know what tomato gravy is. No more do we know what it is like to sit down to a breakfast of hot biscuits, homemade butter, tomato gravy and good ribbon cane syrup. No more do we hear words like buttermilk pie, candy-pulling, pecan roastings or watermelon-rind preserves.

The womenfolk of today know nothing about a quilting party or a knitting get-together. Who among us knows how to set up a quilting frame? If someone should, by chance, organized a lye hominy cooking on a cool Saturday afternoon, everyone would think the organizer had gone off the deep end.

What if someone were to serve a slice of baked pumpkin pie with brown sugar sprinkled over the top with a cup of hot coffee made over an open fire in the fireplace?

Is it true that tomato gravy,
Is to be savored and eaten slow?
With buttered biscuits light and fluffy,
Only a country boy would know.

How about some of our youth of today having a candy pulling? A group of teenagers would get together under the supervision of an older couple or two. They would cook fresh ribbon cane syrup until it became like soft candy.

Then, each would apply butter to his hands and take the soft candy-like syrup and pull and work it until it became almost white in color. Then, as the candy cooled it was twisted and cut into short pieces or sticks.

Games were played by the country youth while waiting for the candy to cool enough so that it could be eaten.

My, oh my, that sounds delicious,
Pumpkin pie so sweet and brown.
Spring-cooled milk or hot black coffee,
Would make a jack rabbit slap a hound.

Who of us today knows how to organize a party to hunt possum grapes? As the hot months of the summer began to turn a bit cooler and the autumn season began to creep across the country side, the time of hunting wild possum grapes would be at hand.

A group of 10 or 12 young people would get together on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, always escorted by a couple of parents, and go into the deep woods in search of those tasty wild grapes and sweet persimmons. The season for the beginning of the good times was fast approaching.

Always, in each party, there would be an expert tree climber. The success or failure of the afternoon lay on the shoulders of the expert climber. This young man would be the one to climb the tall trees and shake down the ripe, juicy persimmons. Or, he was the one to climb the wild grape vines and pull the wild tasty bunches of grapes.

Most times, he would pluck the nicest bunches and drop them ever so carefully to that special young lady who smiled so beautifully from the ground below. She always got the finest bunches, while the others in the party had to scramble for those thrown less carefully among the jumping and laughing group at the base of the tree.

Tell me more of all those good times,
While we rest in the deep cool shade.
Life was good and forever beautiful,
Little did we know that we had it made.

True, the things that were important during those days are only fond memories now. Gone are the Sunday afternoon horseback rides and the fun time of getting together and boiling fresh corn on the cob.

Always then would come the contest of seeing who could eat an ear of fresh boiled corn in the shortest length of time. Always, the contestants put forth great effort so as to stay in favor with a certain beautiful young lady who was dressed neatly in beautiful homemade slacks or a pair of overalls, who smiled ever so approvingly from the sidelines.

Let’s walk again those paths of yesterday,
And live again those memories of old.
For soon the shadows of coming darkness,
Will forever gather within the soul.

Due to the passing of these many good times, I think that we are poorer for it. We tend to measure our so-called success on the fantasies and the make-believe world around us. We sit with our faces and minds glued to the televisions and never really know the meaning of a good time or a good frolic.

We make heroes out of freaks and deadbeats while we push from our minds the true guidance that could put us on the path of success and happiness with our society.

Few of us today bother to journey into the deep woods or on a high hill for a moment of peace and to be alone with nature. We know nothing about meditation and the joys of life while being there.

When I mention or write about being alone on a high hilltop and raising my arms to the heavens for a moment with my God, I get strange looks from some. But the time is at hand when we should turn to our yesterday’s guidelines if true peace and happiness is to come in this world.

But, as for now, I will again remember,
All the good times and dear memories flow.
Sweet, sweet life forever onward,
Only a country boy would know…

(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.)