I had the honor of knowing my great grandfather before he passed away. The stories he told from his memories as a child are well over a century now. I have grown to understand the significance of remembering the history of my family because the events of their lives shaped my own. I will one day share these stories with my own children in hopes they will come to learn as I have the sacrifices and hardships endured that resulted in their existence. Had the events of this particular story occurred any differently my history would never have been and I would not be here now.
My great grandfather, John Oscar Tingle, lived to be 92 years old. He owned over 100 acres of prime timber land in Neshoba County Mississippi that his father had acquired and handed down to him. He earned his living by clear cutting timber from his property. He rolled his own tobacco and had a taste for sour whiskey. John Oscar Tingle attributed his long life to hard work; good tobacco and rot gut whiskey. "The day they finally get me to stop drinking, smoking and working I'll go on to my grave. When they are able to get me to stop, it will be time for me to go."
His wife was a devout woman who tolerated his smoking but forbid him to drink. One late summer afternoon John Oscar entered the house complained that the mule had wandered off again. Taking his worn hat and satchel he told his wife he was taking the horse to bring it back. She pointed to me where I sat at the table and said, “Take the boy with you for company.”
We saddled the two horses and entered the trail into the woods. We had only ridden about 20 minutes before we came upon the mule. I was confused as we continued to ride past it. Look to the mule and then to my grandfather but he continued to look forward and ride onward. It wasn’t long before we reached the other side. Beyond this point all the timber had been cut from miles. We stood upon the hilltop peering down at the valley below. My grandfather pointed ahead of him. "This was once a river. You can tell by how the hillside on the far side is dug out. Strong running water did that."
I told my grandfather I was a strong swimmer and that I could easily swim the distance. He begged to differ stating that treading river water is not the same as treading still waters. If you don't do it correctly you can swim all day and not get anywhere. And if you're not careful to watch the movement of the water ahead you can even get pulled under by the current never to be seen again.
I grandfather dismounted and overturn a large stone nearby. Beneath it was a wooden crate with three bottles of whiskey and a leather sack of tobacco. He instructed Mia to gather some wood for a fire. The sun was getting low over the hillside and my grandfather and I sat by the fire. He sipped his whisky from a tin cup and smiled at me as a peered to the next hillside. He knew I was still thinking about the swim. He took another sip and said, "Let me tell you a story about swimming river water.”
A family had come here from Little Rock, Arkansas in the 1900’s. The father, his wife and three boys traveled by covered wagon to settle in Mississippi on the property the father had purchased. Two of his boys were young teens and his youngest still an infant. They had reached the banks of the Mississippi and decided to camp for the night. They would cross the bridge farther south in the morning. A storm brewed in the early afternoon and began to downpour during the night. Miles behind them a dam had broken releasing the water from the reservoir. Their wagon was overtaken by the rushing water carrying the family into the river.
There was little time and nowhere to run. The man tied a long rope around himself and looped it around his wife and boys. The infant was carried by his wife. The wagon and all their belongings were taken by the river. The man began to swim the turbulent water of the Mississippi River.
As hard as he tried, the current would not allow him to stay near the bank. The river was carrying him further out. He had no choice but to swim with the current and risk the undertow. He was a large man with strong arms and he tugged his family toward the center of the river. He called back to them to stay above the water warning his boys if they got dragged under the whole family would drown. They had been carried miles down the river but the father diligently swam with the current. He was strong and a good swimmer but he had been pulling the weight of his wife and boys for hours. He was losing strength and would soon be taken by the current if he didn’t reach the other side soon. He began to swim toward the bank.
The other side was within reach and it looked as if they would make it. Then the wife screamed in terror to her husband. “John, I’m losing the baby!” The father continued to swim with all his strength as she struggled to hold on the child. Her thrashing was threatening to pull him under. He called back to her, “Let him go.”
His oldest boy, William had already begun to pull himself along the length of the rope toward his mother. As the infant slipped from her grasp, young William grabbed the baby’s leg before the river could take him. They made it to the river bank alive. The mother turned and saw young William had saved the infant.
The family from Arkansas had lost everything but they owned the land they lived on. In those days, owning your own property meant everything and was worth the risk of traveling great distances. The father was John William Tingle and the infant young William Tingle had saved was my great grandfather, John Oscar Tingle.
Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com
No comments:
Post a Comment