Lamplighting time
By Bill Shepard
“When it is lamplighting time in the valley and in dreams I go back to my home, I can see that old lamp in the window; it will guide me wherever I roam.”
Ah, what memories those lines awaken inside my old mind! I could not number the times that I sat and listened to someone play the guitar and sing that old song. Anybody besides me remember!
Bill Shepard
I remember the days of before there was electricity in the small three room house where I lived as a boy. When the first shades of darkness began to creep over the mill village, the kerosene burning lamps would be lit, and the glow from the lamps could be seen through the windows. If I happened to be outside of the house, the pale glow through the window would send a warm signal that said, “its time to come inside.”
It has been many years since I saw that signal, but the lamp that sent it rests on the mantle over the fireplace in my home. It has been in my possession since the day my mother gave it to me, a long, long time ago.
If lamps could talk, the one on my mantle could tell some interesting stories that it heard and saw in the Shepard’s home when I was a boy.
Arriving home from school, mom would have food on the table for her three hungry boys, ages 6, 9 and 12. Snack time being over, there were chores to be done. There were many when I was a boy. The large wooden box situated behind the wood-burning stove would need to be filled to capacity. The wood that had been cut to the size needed was stacked in the backyard for drying. It would take several arms loads for the next day’s fuel. Black coal from the coal pile behind the house would be needed for fuel in the open fireplace where the family would sit before going to bed. In the winter time the three boys would place their brick on the hearth before the fire. Before going to bed each boy would wrap his brick with a piece of heavy cloth so as to hold the heat inside. A piece cut from one of mom’s discarded old quilts would do. It would be placed at their feet to keep them warm until sleep would come. (No central heat in those days!)
Dad’s day at the big mill began each morning at six o’clock and ended at six o’clock in the evening. It would be dark when dad left for work and dark when he returned. Supper was ready when dad returned. That was the only time of day when the family was all together.
Supper being over, mom would wash the dishes and put them away. The last chore to be done was to fill the water bucket with water from the spigot on the back porch. There was no water inside the house. That being taken care of, the entire family would return to the room where the fire was burning in the fireplace. Of course, the lamp that furnished light would be carried from room to room as it was needed. One could imagine the problems that could present! Fortunately, we were able to have more than one lamp! It was not uncommon for one boy to be doing his homework and another would pick up the lamp and move it to another location in the room. I can hear the voice now, “Mama! Tell Billy to bring the lamp back!”
With such memories, is there any wonder why I am writing this story? Long after we were able to have electricity in our house there were occasions we still used the kerosense burning lamps.
Perhaps I should check the wick and the oil content in the lamp on my mantle. On one of my cold winter evening I could take my guitar out of its case and from memory play and sing the words:
“When its lamplighting time in the valley
and in dreams I go back to my home,
I can see tthat old lamp in the window:
It will guide me wherever I roam.”
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.
