PHOTO: Bud Davis is 2nd from right. This picture was taken on Bernarde's 17th birthday. Bernarde is 2nd from left. (The little guy in front of Bernarde is his little brother Richard -- my dad.) The other guys (L-R) are Robert Goodrich, John Robertson, Russell Kime, and Bill Galbreath. The adults in the background are my grandparents, Christie and Bill Thomas.
Flour Sacking!
What a strange title! I am not referring to the cloth feed sacks that grain used to come in and were used for making ladies’ and girls’ dresses back in the day. No, I am talking about an adventure called “flour sacking” in which we used to indulge back then. We were kids… studying for the gallows. In other words, up to no good! Our pranks were not really malicious, but we had this “game” we used to play. We needed a place that was sort of country, with a cornfield that came right up to the road. Best to have a place that was not heavily traveled, because we needed time to get set and have all the arrangements completed. We also needed a 25-lb. paper flour sack…Gold Medal, Pillsbury, or whatever. Just so it was empty and looked new. Our folks always saved those sacks for later use, so that was no problem. And we needed about 50-100 ft. of binder twine. This was stout cord of a neutral color, which was also necessary for camouflaging. Fortunately, we had such a place and situation that was ideal! One of my friends, Bernarde Thomas, lived at the end of Linden Street, about two blocks east of our greenhouses. On that same street lived Jim Tollar and Bill Galbreath. Russell Kime lived out north, but often came into town for the day. They were all part of our “flour sacking” gang. Now, at the end of Linden, the north-south street ran from Main Street out into the country past Simpson’s woods. This was where Bernarde lived. It was at the edge of town; and they had a spacious, shady yard… just the right size to set up for a game of croquet. It sounds like an innocent game… but can be played with malice. We used to delight in getting a position so we could knock another player’s croquet ball clear out of the field! On a summer day one of our gang did that to Bernarde’s Mom… too many times. She chased him right out of their yard, threatening dire consequences! And just south of their place was located an ideal spot for flour sacking… a cornfield that came right up to the gravel road. We could set up our little scam; and when it was completed, melt way back in the corn… farther than any irate motorist would chase us. Besides, we were all fast runners… and the fear of being caught lent wings to our feet! We filled the flour sack with hay, straw, or something light. Then we tied the opening shut with the end of our long length of binder twine. We placed the pristine, apparently full, flour sack on the edge of the road. Using all the skill we could muster, we covered the twine carefully with gravel and sand back into the cornfield. And… gripping firmly the other end of the string, we settled down to await a victim. Hot summer day, quiet country road… and there was a full flour sack, lying right where it had fallen off some unsuspecting farmer’s truck! Who could resist such a freebie! And we waited and waited… giggling, and occasionally looking up and down the road to spot an approaching motorist. Then here came one… a farmer in a black Ford (was there any other color?). He came roaring along the dusty road, spotted the innocent-looking flour sack, and shortly thereafter stepped on the brakes. Meanwhile, we reeled in the sack and retreated farther into the corn, trying to stifle our laughter. The farmer backed up… way past where we were. He came along slowly past, then backed up again. A few times the victim got out, looked up and down the road. Then scratching his head, he shook it, as if he couldn’t believe what he had seen, and got back in his car to drive off.
One time when Bernarde was holding the string, he got to laughing so hard the farmer got out of his car, reached down and scooped up the sack before he could reel in the line. Bernarde snatched it right out of his hands and everyone ran off into the cornrows, dragging the flour sack behind. The guy was so spooked he jumped back in his car and roared out of sight. I’ll bet when he got home, he walked into the kitchen, sat down, and said to his wife, “You aren’t going to believe what happened to me today!” Then tragedy struck. One man came along, saw the innocent-looking sack, and had evidently been taken in before. He swerved over, hit the sack with his front tire, so that sack and straw exploded all over the road. Then he went roaring down the road… probably laughing his head off at how he had fixed those durned kids! That was a million years ago… and it was just yesterday. I can smell the hot cornfields, the dusty country road, and feel summer sun on my back from those days. Russell and Bernarde have both slipped into the shadowed part of the Great Circle of Life: They each served our country: Russell went into WWII about the same time I did. He fought in the Battle of the Bulge, was wounded, and decorated. After the war, he married a classmate of mine, Joyce Goodrich; and they lived their lives in St. Joe. Bernarde, a little younger, went into service after we got home. We saw him off on the train and met him again when he came home two years later. He became a heavy equipment operator, married Eileen Rice; and they lived their lives over near Decatur.
Tri-City Record, April 9, 2009 Watervliet, Michigan
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