IMPORTANT EVENTS OF NOVEMBER 22, 1963
by: Jim Caulder 12-4-2009
I finished my dinner, picked up my jacket, put it on, said good-bye to my mother and father who were still sitting at the table sipping coffee and talking. They knew where I was off to, because my father had told me the night before that my Uncle wanted me to help him shake his pecan trees today. They both cautioned me to be careful and out the door I went. I started up our Farmall–140 tractor, let it warm up while I wound a log chain around the back hitch. I climbed on the tractor, zipped up my jacket, pulled my cap down tightly on my head and drove onto the private drive that lead to the paved road 300 yards down the hill. Once on the paved road, I dropped the gear stick back into fourth gear and started the mile and half drive to my Uncle’s house. The temperature was mild enough considering it was late November. The speed of the tractor and a slight wind made the ride a little chilly. It didn’t take long, and I was pulling into my Uncle’s yard.
My Uncle Quincy Smith and his wife Beattie were in the yard waiting. It was only 12:30 PM and they had said afternoon, so I wasn’t late. They had nothing else to do, so they were ready and waiting.
My Uncle Quincy was born in 1900, so it was always easy to remember how old he was, 63, because it was now 1963. Uncle Quincy smoked a pipe and it was always hanging from his mouth, whether it was lit or not, or it was being packed with more Prince Albert tobacco from the red can that he carried in the top pocket of his bib overalls.
Uncle Quincy married my Aunt Beattie when she was 14. She wanted a little boy and a little girl. They had been blessed with 13 children. Their next to the youngest boy, Homer, was the same age as me and we had grown up not only cousins, but good friends. Homer had recently been drafted, was in Ft. Ord, California for training and was expecting to be sent to Vietnam. That was why they needed me to help shake the pecan trees.
My Uncle Quincy lived in the old Nash Lamb home place. It was a big, wood-frame white house with porches on the front and back. Four large pecan trees stood on the south side of the house. The pecan trees were probably set-out right after the house was built in the late 1930’s. The custom was to order Stuart pecan trees from the Progressive Farmer magazine. They would usually arrive in about 3 weeks by mail. The trees would be set-out a short distance from the house, about 50 feet apart, where they would provide shade for family functions, children playing and a place for farm hands to relax in the shade while eating their dinner. (noon meal, as country folks always called the noon meal dinner and the evening meal supper)
In the fall, after the first frost, some of the pecans fall of their own accord. The wind helps dislodge others. Some hang on and need jarring loose by other means, if not, they will fall a few per day for months. That was what I was there for today, to shake loose those that had not made up their mind to fall. I climbed up the tree about 20 feet, tied the chain around a big limb, got on the tractor and let the weight of the tractor jerk lightly against the chain shaking the limb, making the pecans fall. They would rain down like summer hail! The ground was soon covered with pecans. The pecans were used in chocolate cakes, nut cakes, fruit cakes, pecan pies, etc. Many were cracked and eaten as a snack while sitting around the fire at night. A hand full of pecans and a hammer would occupy children for hours.
We had finished shaking the first tree. My Aunt Beattie went into the house to get more bags for pecans. She came back outside without the bags. It was 1:33 PM, November 22, 1963. She said they had interrupted the stories on television, to announce that President John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas, and was dead!
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