On the Road Again!
By Bill Shepard
We were moving again! This time we were moving to Florida! The thought of one day living in Florida had been in my mind since the time back in 1942 when I spent time there, as a young soldier. Some of the folk at Piedmont had accused me of coming to Piedmont on my way to Florida.
Bill Shepard
Not everyone in the Shepard family was happy. As usual, when moving time came, we were all sad. The church was in harmony with my staying on, as pastor of their church. I suppose it was I that felt was time to move on.
Our oldest son would enter the University of Tampa, our daughter would enter the eleventh grade, and the youngest son would enter the sixth grade. With a G.I. Loan, we were able to purchase a new home located in the heart of Brandon, Florida. In 1962, Brandon consisted of four gas stations, one privately owned grocery store, a dry goods store (privately owned), a small eating place called Dogs ‘n Suds, and a funeral home.
Brandon was growing! Only a few miles from Tampa along Highway 60, it would become one of the fastest growing metropolitan areas in Florida. It has never stopped growing, even to this day.
In July 1962, we moved into our new home. My wife had secured a position just a few miles from our home, and I had also secured a position less than ten miles away. According to our request, we both had been placed in small rural schools. Everything about Florida schools was different from those we had left behind! Hillsborough County School System, at that time, was the 16th largest in the nation. It embraced the cities of Tampa and Plant City, and surrounding smaller towns and communities.
The area we had chosen to live in was surrounded with large citrus groves, strawberry fields, and vegetable farms. Our house was situated in a large subdivision that in time would swallow up the citrus groves that surrounded it.
We should have been happy, but we were not. We missed our Carolina friends and relatives. I suppose I missed the mill villages, the people, and the old smokestacks that were reminders of my happy childhood years. It would be several years before any of us could feel that Florida was our home – if ever!
I loved teaching in the rural schools of Florida. My school was in its second year of operation. It was a beautiful school, located in the very heart of rich farmland that produced citrus and vegetables. Plant City, only a few miles away, was considered the Strawberry Capital of the World! Migrants came early to help gather the crops and their children were our students. In many ways, these children reminded me of the mill village children I had grown up with and had taught before moving to Florida I poured my heart into becoming a good teacher. We attended a church in Tampa and made new friends. We also attended a small church in Plant City. I did not want to pastor a church again, but that old feeling inside seemed always present. At churches where we attended, I was often asked to preach and I would. That “call” into the service of my Lord would not let go. When I was asked to become the pastor of the church at Plant City, I reluctantly accepted. I should be ashamed!
I continued my school teaching and pasturing this small church. After two years and seeing the church grow, I resigned as pastor. Again, I felt torn between my two loves, that of preaching and of teaching. I took on a second position, that of teaching an Adult Education class at the school where I was teaching. That lead to a more responsible position in the Department of Adult Education where I served as a counselor. Teaching during the day and visiting the adult classes at night kept me busy. For seventeen years, I followed that schedule. I counseled with hundreds of students during those years and encouraged them to remain in school. Many were “high school dropouts,” just as I had been, and I told my story over and over, in an effort to keep them in their pursuit for a high school certificate. I like to think that in those years of working in that department that I might have been instrumental in causing many to lead a more successful life than they might have had. Not only was I able to encourage these young adults to continue their education, but I had the opportunity to witness to them about our Lord Jesus Christ. There came a time, as we all know, that prayer was forbidden in our schools. I remember that time well. On the first day following the law prohibiting prayer in schools, a news reporter came to my school to see how we would respond. Being in charge of the morning devotion, I was prepared. I still have the picture of one of my students standing at the microphone and reading a beautiful poem that reached into all the classrooms. That process continued for as long as I was at that school.
Did I stop preaching? No, I did not. After resigning my church at Plant City, I began a prayer meeting and a Sunday School that were held inside a small house in which no one lived. That effort resulted in a church being organized and after property was purchased, I drew a sketch for a new church building. It took much effort on the part of many, but the day came when we moved into our new church building. We had raised the money to pay, as we built. We were debt free and had a beautiful church located in Valrico, Florida. I would continue to pastor this church over the next twelve years.
became a “Curriculum Specialist” and filled that position at a school closer to Tampa My years of teaching were drawing to an end, and so were my years of pastoral ministry. I was reaching retirement age and I was ready!
Who could have thought that this mill village boy would have lived the life that lay behind? Thirty years of pastoral ministry and 30 years as a classroom teacher lay behind. I have often told folk that I had one of the hardest jobs a person could have – that of teaching children how to become adults and adults how to become children! Did not Jesus say, “Verily, I say unto you, Except ye be converted and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.”
In 1984, my teaching career was over and so was my pastoral ministry. I would continue preaching in revivals, both in Florida and wherever I was asked to come. My wife, who has been by my side for all these years, retired from teaching the same year as I. Our three children all went to college and have led successful careers. Two of them followed in the steps of their parents and became teachers and administrators of education. One chose a career as a Real Estate Appraiser.
After nearly 40 years in Florida, we returned to SC. Today, at the ripe old age of 94, I live in this old mill town with two tall smokestacks still standing. Most of my old friends that once lived here are gone!
I still preach occasionally at the same church that I once pastored in Piedmont. The school where my wife once taught has long been closed, but still standing. Like the two smokestacks, it is a reminder of a time that once was. I spend most of my time working in the garden and the rest of my time, I use for writing.
Reliving my memories on the pages of this newspaper has been one of the joys of my life. I owe so much to so many who have helped me on my journey. Through all of my experiences, I have never forgotten the mill village boy that lives inside of me. Often at night when sleep won’t come, he appears and we return to the place of our childhood. We roam the fields and pasture lands, we wade and fish in the waters of Swift Creek and often, unseen, we visit the stores on the Square in my hometown. Sleep overtakes me and I sleep!
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