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Barefoot In The Sand: Remembering the Waning Days of the Hopewell Community (1998) Bruce C. Gragg 35/123

school, did farm chores and had an occasional trip to town. I always
liked to visit Aunt Nita, she lived near the Seaboard Airline
Railroad, near Lake City, and in the forties they still ran "Steam
Engines" on the line. While visiting, when I would hear a whistle,
outside I would run to see the train and count the cars. Much to
everyone's dismay, even in the middle of a meal, if a train dared be
coming, I was on my way outside, there was something magic about
trains to me. The smoke from a "coal burning" engine smelled so good,
and there is a sound emitting from them that cannot be duplicated, a
great sound. As the steam era ended and the new diesel era began, I
maintained the same degree of excitement when I saw or heard a train,
not so much for the head end power units but the variety of cars in
tow. Although they weren't the same with a big "roaring monster"
leading the way, there just was not that familiar slap of the steam
cylinders and driving rods, and the tell-tale stack talk, so unique
to a steam engine. The bigger the engine the better the sound they
emitted, you could hear and feel the power the big engines had. The
sound emitted when it was pulling even a slight incline, was the
sound of power. There was a rhythm to the sound of a steam engine
under power that cannot be duplicated anyway or anywhere. With the
diesels they just roared louder as they increased the power to make
the grade. That was a sad time when all steam was replaced, and with
such an unceremonious passing of something as magnificent and had
such a place in American History.

Most of the time Vera and I like most brothers and sisters got along
fine, then like others we too had out share of fusses and scraps.
Like all other kids we had our favorite plate, fork, glass or cup.
One fork had been used to mix cooking items or beat eggs for
scrambling so much the outside tines were worn somewhat shorter than
the other two, and they were sharp, and I liked to eat with it. The
handle fit my hand better. One of the longest ongoing feuds was over
a plate and spoon. An old premium white plate with olive leaves
around the edge, (of all things to fight over-a peace symbol) that
came from a box of oatmeal or floor or another food item. The spoon
was an old stainless steel spoon, with the end cut off, Uncle Curtis
had used in a lunch bucket years before. Each of us thought it was
ours, and for several years we were like a cat and dog, always
growling and hissing at each other over just a spoon and a plate.
Mama would usually have to step in and verbally through cold water on
us to stop the feud. After we've grown-up and had families of our own
we can look back and now laugh over some of the many things we did.
We were not bad about running to Mama and telling on each other for
various things the other did.

The toughest part of our growing up was when Vera came down with
Scarlet Fever, she was confined for several weeks. We had

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