No Chalk
for a Cat
You
took small jobs if you could find them – any job and you never stayed in one place for long.” The
was The Great Depression (1929–1939) - a
time where “Knight Membership” was at its peak, because it forced an estimated 4,000,000 adults to leave
their homes in search of food and a place to live. Of those, 250,000 were said
to be teenagers and Sam was one of them— the economic collapse had destroyed
everything in his life. With no work and
no prospects at home, my uncle decided to hit the road - travel for free by
freight train and try his luck elsewhere. Sam crisscrossed the country, by
train, jumping into boxcars as trains pulled away from their stops or
slowed at bends in the track.
Sometimes he said, he would help kids walking the tracks– boys mostly – load clumps of coal onto coaster wagons. The coal had fallen off hopper cars. “It wasn’t stealing. The kids were taking the coal home to help heat the house.” Times were hard. My own father did this as a child.
Finding
food as a hobo was a constant problem,
and Sam, like other hobos, often begged at homes and farmhouses. My uncle explained that if
the owner was generous, a hobo would
mark the spot so other hobos would know
it was a good place to beg. There were other markings as well. He remembered a
few:
A
cross — “angel food” (food served to hobos after a sermon).
A
horizontal zigzag — a barking dog.
A square missing its top
line — safe to camp in that spot.
A top hat and a triangle —
wealthy person.
Two interlocked circles —
handcuffs (i.e., hobos are jailed).
A cat —Friendly family; You
can get a meal here.
Two shovels — work for food
(Shovels, because hobos did manual labor and most “didn’t mind.” It provided
them with some dignity. Afterall, they were just men out of work.)
The
signs were temporary. Hobos used chalk or charcoal to mark an immediate
location. The signs wore off in time. Some were changed because situations changed. A farmer may initially be helpful, but later,
as his resources or available work dried up, he might tell the hobo to just go away. A woman who first took pity on you may
become overwhelmed when others came to beg.
One
afternoon, I stopped to visit with my aunt (Estelle) and Uncle Sam. He was busy
cooking something. Uncle Sam told me it was
his version of a “Mulligan,” a stew made by hobos from odds and ends they had
collected.
“It
looks great,” I said. “Want to stay for
dinner?” Sam asked.
With
the hearty aroma of meat, potatoes and vegetables cooking slowly in the broth
filling the kitchen, promising a dish that would warm both body and soul, of
course, I accepted.
As we sat down to eat just after “Grace,” the sounds of a nearby slow moving freight
train weaving through the neighborhood drifted through an open window. I imagined
the engine’s horn spurred a reflection of nostophobia into the past as my uncle
dipped his spoon into the Mulligan backscattering memories – almost all of
them unpleasant - in
its long mournful cries. I could almost hear the echoes of bygone journeys, and
envision hardships endured by so many like my Uncle Sam. Their hardscrabble lives
absorbed into the anatomy of the freight train and date-nailed into the rail ties
of time as the locomotive meandered through the night. For these transient
train troubadours, this was not merely a mode of transportation but a way of
life—a nomadic existence shaped not by adventure but necessity. There were no
“vacation photos,” only lingering hope for something more, something better.
The hue and cry of the honky- tonk clamor
from the freight cars with their sharp sways,
squeaks, and squeals spoke, no - shouted - of grit and gumption - of resilience
and perseverance, of survival forged despite
adversity. “Hard Times,” they called it. Each sound carrying the weight of history, resonating with its own
distinct charm and character, a deep, timeworn rumble, and then a tug as if
to awaken these rough sleepers from their
long slumber. But now they had reached
the end of the line.
These
Knights set out on foot, determined to find something better and along the way
they met kind strangers who offered them food and shelter, reminding them that
even in the darkest of times, there were still good people in the world.
Finally, after months of hardship and struggle, the men arrived at a final destination and stood at the edge
of some bustling city, looking out at the horizon with a sense of
both apprehension and hope. Though their journey had been fraught with
adversity, they had emerged stronger and more resilient than ever before.
As
they said their farewells and went their separate ways, the Knights surely knew that they would always
carry the memories of their time together on the rails. For in each other, they
had found not only companionship but also the courage to keep moving forward,
no matter what obstacles lay ahead.
“Come
back to see us soon,” came their joint replies as I left their home after thanking my relatives for
dinner. I said I would; I had a great time, but
I did have one regret, I didn’t
have any chalk with me. Next time….Their mailbox needed a cat.
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