The Place Where Rich People Live

The first six years of my formal education was at a little one roomed school at Lakeville, Kentucky. There, Everyone knew everyone else. Why if we weren't family, we were good friends. At recess we played Round Town, Annie Over, High Jump, Drop the Hanky, jump rope and horse shoes. Boys and girls played together. After my sixth year, "they" closed the one roomed school and sent me to this huge consolidated school. It was the biggest building I was ever in. Why, my whole school and the play ground around it would fit inside that gym. I didn't know anyone except Tessie, she went to Lakeville with me but it seemed everyone else knew everyone else. I suppose someone put that loud red headed girl with the bright red freckles in charge cause at recess she put all the seventh graders in a line and told everyone who they could be friends with. "OK, John you can be friends with Phillip, and Sally you and Sarah are friends", and she went on down the line pairing people in twos sometimes threes and even fours until she got to me. Then she stopped and got real quiet. She didn't know me. She looked at my pants with the patch on the knee, my old shoes also got her attention. She looked at Tessie, back at me and all of a sudden she pointed at me and Tessie and said "You two can be friends, cause you're just alike". I didn't know what that meant. Why, Tessie and me, we had been friends all our lives. Our families had been friends too. When my clothes got too little for me, mom passed them on to Tessie. She would always ask me "how they look" and I would always say "They look good, Tessie", then we would play. Tessie couldn't say words like others did. Sometimes she was hard to understand, and she couldn't keep up with school work. Almost everyone in class laughed at her and teased her a lot. I felt bad for her.

We studied cities in the seventh grade. One day the teachers loaded the whole 7th grade class on a bus and took us to the city. I saw big buildings that reached to the sky and more cars than could fit on Stinson Creek. I learned that there’s a lot of money in the city so I decided that people who live in the city must be rich. It just made sense that Mommy and Daddy should move us to the city so we could be rich.

I decided the next evening at supper would be a good time to tell them that we should move to the city. After everyone was gathered around the old wooden table, I asked Daddy if I might make a suggestion. With his permission I said,

“I believe we should move to the city to live. Last week I learned that people who live in the city are rich and I want to be rich. Here is why.

“If we lived in the city Mommy, you could get a job working in a nice store. Why you could wear pretty dresses and cut your hair and make it curly with a permanent. And Daddy, you wouldn’t have to work on the farm anymore you could get a job in an office. You could wear suits and black shinny shoes. You and Mommy could go out to eat in a restaurant where they bring you the food and wash the dishes for you. Why you could go out to a movie and you could go dancing.

“If we lived in the city we could have new clothes and more than one pair of shoes. Maybe if we lived in the city, I would have more friends and they would come visit me and stay all night.

“Our house would be big so we wouldn’t have to sleep together. We would have a new table from the furniture store. Not this old scratched up thing that was made from wood just cut off the farm.

“So what do you think, can we move to the city where we can be rich?”

Mommy and Daddy just looked at each other for a few minutes then they whispered. Daddy took my brothers and sisters outside to do some chores and Mommy stayed with me.

“Sweetie, I know you have learned a lot at the big school. But let me tell you a few things about living on the farm and living in the city.”

It might be nice to go eat at a restaurant one time. Yeah they bring the food and wash the dishes but do you know where the food comes from? Here on the farm, when I cook your food, I know that we grew it with our own hands, and then we put it away for winter’s use. I never did mind washing dishes, there’s something beautiful in a pan of hot water with bubbles swimming all over it”.

This farm is where your great great grandfather grew up. Why he made this old table when he was only 15 years old. When he finished it, he carved his initials on the back of that chair you’re sitting in. All these scratches, they might not look as good as a fancy new table would, but each one is a very special memory. Even that black spot right there, remember, that’s where you set the cooker that was a little too hot. I thought it kinda looked good with all the other memories that are carved into it.

Now you mentioned movies. Do you remember how you like to watch the stars at night? In the city, there are so many lights, you can’t even see the stars. And there are no paths that lead up the hill under the big pine trees, there’s only building after building and maybe a green spot they call a park.

As for fine dresses and short curly hair, your Great grandmother had long hair like me. Some people say I look a lot like her. She grew up here on the farm too. Sometimes you remind me of her, sassy and full of energy. Your Daddy and me, well, we couldn’t be any happier than we are right here on this old farm, working the land and knowing our babies are safe when they’re outside playing. I don’t think we would feel that way if we lived in the city.

I heard my Dad call for me and my mom in a soft voice. “Come here, you gotta see this”, he said.

Mom went outside, but I stayed behind. I had to do some thinking. I put my hand behind the chair and traced the initials carved in the wood. Then I looked at all the scratches and wondered who made them.

I walked over to the window to see what everyone was doing. At the end of the yard is a bank. There I saw Mom and Dad and all my brothers and sisters lying on their bellies looking across the way. Out in the field was a big tom turkey struttin’ his stuff. His wings were hanging to the ground and his tail was stretched out like a fan those old women use in church. His neck was red as blood. He walked for a few minutes then stopped and gobbled. Then Daddy raised his hand and pointed across the road to the grass field. My eyes followed. There, munching on the sweet grass was a herd of white tailed deer and right in the middle was a big buck. He raised his head for a few seconds then it was like those heavy antlers pulled it back to the ground. He didn’t mind my family watching him; he just went on munching the green grass. The sun was just going behind the hills. The sky looked like God had gotten a box of Crayola Crayons and used them to color the sky blending the colors till they were just perfect

I sat at the table and made two lists, one was all the good things about living in the city, the other one was the things I like about living on the farm. Since the farm list was much longer than the city one I knew we would never move. And after my talk with Mom and watching our own personal move right in our front yard, I didn’t really want to move. Perhaps there’s more to being rich than having a lot of stuff.

Last week while doing some cleaning, I found that list and I remembered that day just like it was yesterday. How I wanted away from that big consolidated school. How I wanted to be accepted and I thought money and life in a city would make us rich. I think about my mom and dad and how smart they were. I didn’t know until many years later that mom only went to the third grade and Dad, well he finished the sixth.

I visit my parents each week on the same farm that six generations called home. Today my mind is filled with memories.



As my car takes the final plunge from the winding mountain top road to the valley of the Licking River, I feel at ease. As I pass Flynt Branch, I look to the left and see the playground where that one room school stood, I see the ruins of a little store where 15 cents bought a half slice of bologna, oyster crackers, and an RC Cola for lunch. I drive past green pastures where once I helped Mom and Dad and brothers and sisters raise tobacco, where Gladys May brought us cold water and sometimes Kool-aide on those hot summer days. A steep curve takes me past Owens Hoskins' country store where Stinson Creek runs into the Liking River. I think to myself "this is where mom and dad bought flour and sugar and other stuff we couldn't grow on the farm". The tiny road sign that reads "Tin Can" reminds me of the many times I rode Ole Tobe up that dirt road to Paw Huff's barn and walked home. As I round the curve, I see my parent’s tiny house surrounded by garden plots and apple and pear trees, hickory nut and black walnuts. This is the place where my roots grow deep, my connection to the land. As I turn in the drive way I hear sounds of brothers and sisters playing, fussing, working, and being happy. As I walk into the yard, Mom and Dad come to meet me and my heart overflows for I know I've come home to the place where rich people live.