Coal Camp Teens
Proud Creekers
by
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When I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do was ride a bicycle. That may seem like a simple pleasure to you, but as you will see it was anything but simple. As a girl growing up in the coal camp there were a few things that I thought were totally unfair. My brothers could have a bicycle, but simply because I was a girl I didn’t get one. Now Brother Larry had a bike, and being older he didn’t ride his as much as my younger brothers rode theirs. You might think that worked out in my favor. It didn’t. Larry was no dummy. He realized right away that he had something that I wanted, and the opportunity was too much for him to resist. He explained it like this. As long as he wasn’t using it, I could ride all I wanted. My heart leapt with joy!................... “What’s that you said Brother Larry? I’m sorry I think I was distracted there for a moment. As long as I pay you how much? Fifty cents a ride, for every trip to the mouth of our holler and back?” As much as I loved riding a bicycle, that would get expensive real fast. I was in a dilemma. My mind was racing. Let’s see, I baby sit some. Mom would give me extra money for going to the store for her. I even did pretty well fixing Mrs. M. her medicine until my mom figured out they were hot toddies, and put an end to that. But I would just never have enough money to satisfy my bicycle riding habit. I rode his bike as much as I could afford for a few days and then, in my mind a miracle happened.
Now forest fire is a terrible thing. At least that’s what I have always heard. However, a kids mind is usually focused on themselves. They very seldom see the bigger picture that includes how it will affect other people’s lives or what danger is involved. They are usually blinded to everything except the goal before them. Now to say that I had a particular goal in mind in this instance may be a stretch but I certainly was only focused on how this particular incident would best suit my needs. The thing is I didn’t have anything to do with how the fire got started. It could have been as unintended as a careless smoker or it could have been some young man, needing to earn some money, who knew that when the firefighters needed help they recruited local boys to help fight the fire. Anyway, this story isn’t about how it started. This story is about my prayers during the fire. The bible tells us not to pray amiss. That may be a strange word to our ears, but it is really quite simple. Praying amiss is praying wrongly and this is a prime example.
I remember when the woods caught on fire. You could smell the smoke for miles. I had no idea that this would affect me in any way, but the next thing I knew someone showed up in our yard asking if Larry was available to go help fight the forest fire. Like a good citizen, he packed a few clothes, and after mom fixed him some food to carry with him he climbed in the truck and he was off to fight the fire. That’s when I realized, he was gone, and there sat his bicycle, gleaming in the sunshine. Oh happy day! Before he cleared Slate Lick Holler I was riding to my heart’s content. Talk about looking on the bright side. I didn’t even realize there was a down side to this arrangement. My goal was to get in about a million dollars’ worth of rides before Larry came back. I wasn’t planning to pay for them either. Since I wasn’t made out of money, while he was out being a good citizen, I was being a sneaky sister and riding his bike all day long. He was making his own money fighting fires, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
I rode so much I began to worry that I might wear the tires out and get a flat tire. I prayed that that wouldn’t happen, because I knew then I would be caught. I prayed that they would never get that fire put out, but of course finally the day came when they dropped off a very tired Larry and said the fire was out now. Man I could have cried. Now I had prayed earnestly for that fire to keep burning, but I was praying out of pure selfishness and no good was coming from that fire burning except my freedom to ride Larry’s bike. Even when we pray amiss, like I was, God answers our prayers, He simply says no. It was back to paying for my rides again. I wondered if there was any way I could fix Mrs. M. her medicine without mom finding out. I sure did need the money.
I don’t believe dresses were modest apparel when I rode that bicycle. My skirt tail would blow in the wind. No doubt everybody in Cinco saw my panties at one time or another. I didn’t care much as long as I could ride that bike, and mommy didn’t catch me. Of course that all changed when I got a little older.
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About the Book
Join this, often humorous, walk down memory lane. Find out: Why an apple rolled down the Isle of the Putney church, If Ed got the point, Where Gobbler’s Knob is, Who cooked Steve’s duck, Where did Jody get that prize beagle, What was Jerry’s surprise, Why Emma’s play was canceled, How David got into such a tight situation, Why did Jesse James get kicked out of school, Who in the world is “Pampers,” Why did Raymond un-quit, How come Larry’s Lincoln was only a two speed, And who Sparky is. We survived, with some wonderful memories. This teenage stuff isn’t always easy, but it can be great fun.
Teenagers are a strange mixture of hormones, guts and uncertainty. Add in a healthy dose of orneriness, a lot of rock-and-roll, a dance step or two, a few likeminded friends and you’ll get trouble enough. If however, you throw in, a little coal dust, a swimming hole, a taste of Roy’s moonshine, a bunch of school skipping, some military service, red blue jeans, Judy’s bottle of Listerine, and a thick layer of snow and ice, then you have real West Virginia Coal Camp trouble. To say that we grew up poor is an understatement, but don’t forget, we grew up in a great country that afforded us luxuries and opportunities that make us seem very wealthy in the eyes of most of the world. For that I am very grateful.
“Coal Camp Teens” weren’t so different from other teens, or were they? The rich culture of the mines and the hills, blended together to fashion people who were especially strong. No one ever said that teenage years were easy. Sure there were fun times and memories that will be cherished for the rest of our lives. There were also lessons to be learned. Learning lessons is especially hard when you think you already know it all. There is nothing good about a paddling, unless you learn something from it. There is not much good that can be said about war, except when it is necessary to preserves our freedom. In much the same way, the trials and temptations that filled our teenage years are nothing to brag about, except that they made us what we are today. “Coal Camp Teens” explores the strange world of the teenager. In particular, the teenager growing up in the coal camps of Campbell’s Creek, West Virginia.
About the Author
Margie is a "Creeker." That is what the resedents of The "Campbell's Creek" area of Charleston, West Virginia call themselves. Her father Jesse was a coal miner. He was also an accomplished musician and a story teller. Margie has been blessed with those same talents. Who could be better qualified to tell the story of teenage years in the coal camps, than someone who suffered through them. "Coal Camp Teens" is the sequal to "Coal Camp Kids." It is only the second of several books she hopes to publish. She currently lives in South Carolina and misses "The Creek."