A little makes a big difference
By Bill Shepard
One of the things I remember most about my early childhood was how little it took to make a big difference! One songwriter wrote, “Little is much if God is in it.” God must have been in the little things of my childhood for they made a great difference.
We didn’t have much money in those days, but that didn’t seem important. In the place of money, my folks had credit at the “Company Store.” Old Fred, the deliveryman, brought groceries to our house every time my mama sent a grocery list to the store.
Lima beans, cooked tender, and fatback meat fried to a crisp, graced our table nearly every day. Plenty of big fluffy biscuits browned in the wood-burning stove and black Luzianne coffee, sweetened to the taste, rounded off nearly every meal. Now who could ask for more than that? I wonder how many of you right now would like to sit down to a meal like that! You could have it too, except that the doctor has advised you to leave off the fatback. See what I mean? All the money in the world can’t buy what most of us had back in those years of the “hard times.” Good health, good appetite, lima beans and fatback meat were a blessing from the Lord.
The little garden behind the house furnished fresh vegetables in the summer time. Old Tom, the village handyman, would plow the land and mom and dad would plant the seed on “Good Friday.” They said that seed planted on that day would sprout and come up better. Anyway, by early summer there would be plenty of fresh vegetables to grace our table and what a difference they would make! You see, we didn’t have fresh fruit and vegetables every day throughout the year like folk do now. Lack of electricity and refrigeration made that unlikely if not impossible. Even a small piece of ice was a real treat to have at Sunday dinner. What a difference a glass of cold tea would make! Sunday dinner with fresh beans, corn and squash from the garden, accompanied with a glass of ice tea was a feast for a king! And I had that during those so-called depression years! What an extra surprise would be added when a big fresh watermelon from a nearby farm would be found on the table. Watermelon were had only in summer when the farmer would load his wagon and come through the village crying with a loud voice, “Watermelon, watermelons for sale!” With a nickel or dime, one could be purchased and what a treat it would make when sliced and passed around to everyone present.
So many things that we take for granted today were missing in those days but love and concern for one another was always in good supply. Even when my parents denied me the things that I wanted, either by wisdom or necessity, I always knew that they loved me and were concerned about my welfare. They cared about where I went, with whom I went and with what I did. Dad’s old razor strap that hung on a nail behind the kitchen door helped to keep a mischievous young boy on the straight and narrow path. When a child is raised in that kind of environment, he is not living in poverty. The real important things of life are not purchased with money or stored on the shelves in the store! The intangible things such as love, kindness, tenderness and mercy are born from within and given off to one another. These are the things that can make a great difference in one;s life.
These were the things that my young life was blessed with. When the poet Whittier wrote, “Blessing on thee, little man, Barefoot boy with cheeks of tan,” he could have been pointing his finger directly at me. The fields and pastures were my playground. The woods and streams were mine to explore. When the day ended, a blanket of tender love enveloped the humble dwelling where I “laid me down to sleep!” The knowledge that a “Heavenly Father” watched over us all, added to the comfort and secure feelings of the day, so nothing was really lacking. I would not trade the memories of my childhood with those of the rich and famous. Did not the “Master Teacher” tell us a long time ago that a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things which he possess? We find our happiness in the “little things” we learn to appreciate. The little things can make a big difference!
Mr. Shepard is a native of Darlington, S.C., and a current resident of Piedmont, S.C. He is the author of “Mill Town Boy” and “Bruised”. He has been sharing his tales of growing up in Darlington for decades, and we are delighted to share them each week. His mailing address for cards and letters is: Bill Shepard 324 Sunny Lane, Piedmont, S.C., 29673.