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| George Buster Singleton |
I have been told that it is a sign of getting old when one sits around reminiscing about times and places long past. I don’t profess to be old – 39 doesn’t seem old to me – but I do find myself thinking of the past good times in the days of my childhood and teenage years.
As the Fourth of July holiday lingers on the horizon, one cannot help but think of the good times when people got together to celebrate this day and to enjoy just plain country fellowship. I have much sympathy for those of you who have never enjoyed a country Fourth of July. I believe that we should go back to some of the good old days and events and live and enjoy them as we once did.
The actual celebration would start on the 3rd, the day before the holiday. Shortly after the noon meal, plans would begin to formulate for the all-night cooking for barbecued meats that would be served the following day. This was a joint affair for the local menfolk who brought the seasoned hickory wood that had been cut during the past winter and dried for just this event.
Each man in the community had a chore or a responsibility for the day of celebration. My father had to see to it that there was plenty of hot coffee for everyone as they sat around the cooking fires throughout the night.
Nighttime stories
Many times, there would be as many as 20 or so men sitting around the fires throughout the late evening and early morning. Each in turn would tell tall tales and experiences that he had witnessed or had been handed down by parents and kinfolk.
Once in a great while, a jug of blackberry wine would lie hidden in the tall weeds nearby. This was used to boost the morale and lift the spirits of the older menfolk, who might slip away for a small nip when the late hours might cause a lag in the telling of yarns.
The small and teenage boys of the community were allowed to sit quietly and listen. Most of the time, these tired young boys would be sound asleep before the evening tales reached their peak. An afternoon of running and playing by now would be taking its toll. A heavy horse blanket or a fresh hay bale was always inviting. If the weather did not cooperate for the outdoor event, a large hay shed in the community saw to it that the celebration never faltered.
Uncle Tony
My good friend and buddy Uncle Tony was the absolute authority on the meat cooking. No one dared question this old black man who, as a child, had been a slave.
As I have stated earlier in some of my articles, Uncle Tony had no family. He depended entirely on my family for his upkeep and well being. A small house near our home was where this gentle old man spent the last years of his life. A young boy who might be able to stay awake until it was time to taste the cooked meat could always bet that he would help Uncle Tony with the official tasting.
As the early rays of the morning sun brightened the eastern skies, quietness settled around the dying cook fires. Most of the menfolk had quietly walked away from the fireside, going home to change clothes and return later with their families.
The large coffeepot continued to simmer on the remaining few glowing coals. A small boy with permission from Uncle Tony now had the chance to sample the strong black liquid that steamed in the large coffeepot. And, too, to listen to Uncle Tony retell some of the tall stories that he had missed the night before when deep sleep had overtaken him there on a bale of hay.
Daylight celebration
Around 9:30 a.m., the local folk began to arrive. Laughter and merriment were everywhere as conversations sprang up among the early arrivals. New quilts were displayed if one of the ladies had a pattern that was new in the area. A couple of long, sturdy tables became more and more laden with all kinds of pies, cakes and goodies that were to be served at noon.
Two small boys were soundly scolded for trying to slip away from one of the large tables, each with a slice of apple pie that was to be eaten in the bushes.
Various games and contests began to take place in the large open area. A barrel of ice tea had just arrived. This had to be left on the wagon because it was too heavy to place on the tables. The mules were unhitched, and the wagon bed was used for another table. Three large ice cream freezers had been made ready. Volunteers were called to turn the large freezers and make the ice cream.
Nearby, the sounds of a fiddle, a guitar and a banjo began to rise on the morning air. The celebration was at hand that marked the period of laying by the crops until it was time to gather.
Dangers of overeating
If anyone left the celebration hungry, it was his own fault. A small boy who had eaten much more than he should have, slowly helped his older sisters gather the now-empty pans and dishes that had brought delicious goodies to the celebration.
And, as goodbyes were said and the wagons slowly began to leave the gathering area, this same small boy sat in the rear of the family’s wagon beside his friend and buddy Uncle Tony and listened to a hundred reasons why one should never overeat because it might stunt his growth.
(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, 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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