GOODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD
(Continuation of manuscript from 2/26)
My dad’s family of sharecroppers didn’t make enough money pickin’ cotton for some of the basic necessities of life, never mind luxury items. Things like watches were for rich folks. Poor folks new work started before the first rain of sunlight kissed the cotton bloom and ended after the sun dropped the curtain on another day.
When the days came and those kids could afford a watch, they had one, not for the sake of jewelry, but for the need of being on time for work. There was a distinct difference between a watch and jewelry. Even earrings, necklaces, and rings were far and few between for the girls, never mind the men.
Jewelry is the last thing on a kid’s mind when they’re in need of a pair of shoes.When I was a kid we struggled too, but nothing compared to the harsh world my dad had known. We didn’t have jewelry either. My mom sported only her wedding ring that was worn thin opposite the humble diamond side of that little circle of devotion.
The blue collar side of the tracks that we hailed from meant spending money was measured in second-grade mathematical equations. If we wanted more – we worked.
It was the summer after sixth grade. My buddy Greg and I were knockin’ on doors in the little town that is famous for being the hot spot in the nation on occasion – that with taking the temperature down by the lake, where it’s a hint cooler.
The little town of Lake Havasu City is also famous for a couple other things; one, the transplanted London Bridge. And two, rocks. It’s some of the nastiest soil I’ve toiled in.
After the severe summer rain storms, back before they called them “monsoons”, folks front yards would be decimated. What little top soil there was, was washed to the street and whisked off toward the lake by the violent summer rains.
There are only two types of folks that knock on doors trying to sell things; greedy people and desperate people. Greg and I fell into the latter category.
Most people, like nineteen out of twenty, got downright angry for having to haul their backyards off the couch and stroll to their front door to shoo away a door to door salesman. Even more so when they’re punk kids trying to get into wallets.
Every so often we’d get lucky. We’d offer to rake the rocks in their front yards, which always turned out to be tons, for forty bucks. Plus we had to haul them off the property to boot. Since it took two, three, even sometimes four full work days, in 120 plus degrees, it was close to slave labor.
Come payday we were kings with our very own greenbacks. We did what most dumb kids did…. We peddled our bikes down to Zimmerman’s and forfeited our hard earned cash for Rock-N-Roll.
My first payday helped line Elton John’s mohair suit pocket via the album “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”.
Dikkon Eberhart
Sunday, April 23, 2017 @ 5:46 pm
Cool! Or should I say HOT!
I like the pace with which you wrote this. The tone. The voice. I like where it stops.
Nice, Floyd!
Hilary Sosey
Sunday, April 23, 2017 @ 9:12 pm
I love your humble wisdom , Floyd… you were special way back when you needed to get your hair cut just above your collar before a basketball game & your shy smile that spoke volumes … you continue to be special as you have grown up to be a wise man – I will always be grateful to have been a small part of your journey , just as you continue to influence mine 💓
Pam
Monday, April 24, 2017 @ 3:22 am
These posts are your memoirs, Floyd. I always enjoy glimpses into someone’s past. 🙂
Bill (cycleguy)
Monday, April 24, 2017 @ 4:59 am
Great story Floyd! But Elton John? Mine was Tommy James and the Shondells. I couldn’t wait until their next album came out. Then it was also Frankie Valli & the 4 Seasons. Eventually it went to “harder” music but fond memories indeed of those early purchases.
Joanne Norton
Monday, April 24, 2017 @ 7:41 am
Always nice to see what you’re writing and sharing. Bless you, Bro!! 😉
Lisa notes
Monday, April 24, 2017 @ 10:32 am
You’ve been a hard worker from the get-go, a trait that I’m sure has served you well throughout your life, and one I’m sure you’ve passed along to your girls. My own hard-working parents were always proud of that trait as well. The photo of the watch reminds me of my dad’s old watch. Neither of my parents was a jewelry person (so surprise, surprise, neither am I).
Cheryl
Monday, April 24, 2017 @ 6:40 pm
I love reading your personal stories, Floyd. Thank you for sharing your heart with us here. God bless you, brother.
Hazel Moon
Monday, April 24, 2017 @ 10:17 pm
When my dad went to work in 1936 for the Southern Pacific Railroad, they required him to have a special pocket watch. Every so often he was required to have the jeweler set the time perfect. This was an important piece of equipment for the switchmen to have. Robert did pick cotton in his youth, and also worked in cutting lumber, and dusting tobacco. For a girl it was harder to earn extra money. I took over my brother’s shopping news route when he got a regular paper route, and also mowed a persons lawn until he cheated me and I was too embarrassed to say. Times were tough even when Bob and I got married. If we wanted something we saved until we could afford it – – except our first refrigerator. Mother signed for us at Montgomery Ward so we could have a refrigerator for our furnished apartment that was without one. Those hard years have lessons to learn. I had to smile at your hard work hauling rocks and then spending some of it on rock and roll. What a sweet post – – all of it.
Betty Draper
Tuesday, April 25, 2017 @ 11:16 am
I went to work outside my home at 11, cleaning house for a neighbor and babysitting. I think I mopped floors for 50 cents, don’t remember what they paid me to babysit. What I do remember is the power having a little money in my hands. That meant I could buy candy a the nearest neighbor store. Being poor did not hurt me, not learning from it would have been a waste. Knowing how to work is a powerful tool in our tool box of life. It has serve me well. In fact it feels good to be back doing normal chores, making a bed, washing clothes, easy stuff that does not wear me out. Those of us who know how to work hate being laid up for anything but it comes to all, the hard workers and the lazy ones. I am with everyone one else, the telling of your life causes us to think about lessons our life has brought to us. Good writing brother, good writing.
June
Tuesday, April 25, 2017 @ 2:03 pm
I have fond memories of cooking and cleaning for an elderly lady in our small town. Gosh, I must have been 10 or 11 when I started because by the time I was 15 I had a part-time job in the larger town 25 miles away. I was trying to remember what I used to spend my hard-earned money on . . . gas for the car probably! It’s hard to find anyone today with a good work ethic! Times have certainly changed. Love reading your stories, brother. Have a blessed week!
TC AVEY
Wednesday, April 26, 2017 @ 11:11 am
It’s a hard knock life…
A little work never hurt anyone. This us something I hope/plan to instil in my sons.
saleslady371
Wednesday, April 26, 2017 @ 3:31 pm
Looks like those strong work ethics of yours began way back in grammar school! I’ve got to get back to LHC. My girlfriend from church tells me there is a thrift store there that I will want to visit. It’s on my list of things to do. How are you feeling? I’m praying.
Floyd
Friday, April 28, 2017 @ 5:09 pm
I know you love old English settings and the English Village under the London Bridge is going to be right up your alley.
I have to go back in for an MRI next week. Something is a miss. Thanks for your prayers, Mary.
Jason Stasyszen
Friday, April 28, 2017 @ 12:00 pm
I’ve been to Lake Havasu City quite a few times. It’s a happening place. 🙂 Actually I have friends there so I got to minister. Do you live close to there now? Love the story, Floyd! Thanks.
Floyd
Friday, April 28, 2017 @ 5:05 pm
I have an office there and live a couple hundred miles from there. Thanks, Jason.
Dolly
Friday, April 28, 2017 @ 3:01 pm
Floyd,
Wonderful story. I love that last sentence as I imagined Elton John’s mohair suit pocket. Good rhythm.
Thank you 🙂