$1 Pocket Knife. Priceless.
By Ben Witt It was October 1966. I remember the Vietnam War was raging in parallel with our lives. We had this simple but complicated life, trying to keep the farm going and get the taxes paid by December. Our cash crop was tobacco. We had a pretty good year; the barn was full of the tobacco being cured and we were right up against market day. We all had to pitch in, tie it up, stack it, and get it ready for market, which is quite a process. I was 10. My job was to climb up in the tobacco barn, which was probably 25 feet up on the poles. Because I like to climb, they would always send me up and I would bring down the tobacco. There were tobacco leaves all around us. It was nighttime. I can remember the smells of tobacco and kerosene from the lamps as there was no electricity in the barn. I remember my brother, my dad, my three uncles, and my grandparents were there. The neighbors came over because they had tobacco too and we always helped each other out. There was probably a dozen of us in this little room with tobacco leaves all around. The old people were stringing yarns and we were all in there working together. It's cold and dirty. Our hands were black from handling the tobacco. I was wearing my work rags. We had work clothes and school clothes and that’s the way it was. Of course, one day the school clothes would graduate to work clothes, but anyway, it was dirty. We worked late into the night, and it was a school night – we all worked until three in the morning. Whew! Finally, it was finished. There was a lot of pressure to get it done, but nobody lost themselves over it. We just stayed at it and kept going and going and going until the job was done. My feeling as a young boy was, I felt needed, and I learned the value of work. We always worked, but at some point, you just kind of cross over this little border, and you say, “I'm needed, I'm 10 years old, and I'm capable.” It gave me a very, very good feeling. My grandfather was so proud of me. After we sold the tobacco, he brought me back a $1 pocket knife, which I still have to this day. Ben Witt is a Bedford native and has lived here his entire life. He graduated from Staunton River High School and studied printing and graphic arts at CVCC. He worked in printing 40 years, the last 25 at Smyth Companies (formerly Piedmont Label Co.) in Bedford. It was a joy to work with the wonderful people there and contribute to each other’s success. |