Unlike the school bus, the mail did not come to our door at the Little House. Back in those days it was known as RFD (Rural Free Delivery). A letter addressed to F. C. Segrest (my dad) RFD Milstead, Alabama would have made it to us. Mr. Charlie Shaw, the “mailman” knew everyone on the route. We had an actual Box Number. “Rt. One, Box 45,” Milstead, Alabama was the official address. But the mailbox was up on the “big road” where what is now Segrest Lane turned off the big road. The big road was an unpaved, clay, gravel top road.
There was no vehicle, we had to walk to the mail box, and long before we moved from the Little House, I was “big enough” to go to the mail box. So, to get to the mail box from the Little House we first had to go past Uncle Earl’s house, which was due west of the Little House, maybe three hundred yards. We could either follow the foot path through the pasture, or we could go “around the road” that our infrequent visitors with automobiles and the school bus used. Then departing from the big oak in front of Uncle Earl’s house we walked past Mr. Frank’s house, then on up the lane to the big road. From Uncle Earl’s oak to the big road was about a half mile.
Naturally, whoever went for the mail got our mail, Uncle Earl’s mail, and Mr. Frank’s mail. There were two huge magnolia trees in front of Mr. Frank’s house that figure into this story, not to mention what was once considered the biggest Sassafras tree in Alabama, in Uncle R.V.’s field to east of the lane to the big road, but that is another story. But occasionally when we would go by Mr. Frank’s place on the way to the box, his mule, Dan would be available. We would climb onto one of the huge magnolia limbs to mount onto Dan, and he would give us a ride to the mailbox! Of course, who ever had to get off for the mail had to walk back home.
Mr. Frank and Ms. Jo had a couple of dogs. He didn’t think they would bite, especially old “Blackie” who was old and almost toothless. But once when I was delivering Mr. Frank’s mail to his house, old Blackie bit me, maybe with the only tooth he had. Mr. Frank looked at the place, and decided that Blackie didn’t get me. But by the time I got to Uncle Earl’s place, I was bleeding in my socks. Uncle Earl’s wife, Aunt Daisy, was “fit to be tied,” as they used to say when someone became very angry.
Recent Comments