June in the Chattahoochee Valley. Time for fresh tomatoes, peaches, blackeye peas and sweet tea. It is also the season for company picnics, if anyone is still doing those. Every year about this time, I get nostalgic about a particular company picnic and what, short of someone dying, turned out to be the saddest day of my life.
The evening of May 22, 1959 was a night I’ll never forget. I was in my bed in our little East Highland home on 20th Street in Columbus. I don’t remember how late it was, but I think I was asleep or on my way there. I was either awakened or jerked out of my approach to dreamland by the sound of my mother’s cries. She had just gotten the news that her parents, my grandparents, had been killed in a car crash in Chattsworth, Ga. Their car was overrun by a Tropicana Company eighteen-wheeler and the ensuing crash killed both of them. I remember the chaos of that night — people crying, phone calls and visits. I have a six-year-old’s memories of their funeral at Eastern Heights Baptist Church on 15th Street.
Julia and Johnny Watson were good people who died too soon and left three children, Alvin, Johnny and my mother, Ann, to sort out the legal instruments and possessions they left behind. There was a lawsuit and members of the Watson side of our family traveled to Florida for the trial sometime during the summer of the year after the wreck. My brother, Eric, and I stayed behind with my paternal grandparents, Nell and Bill Venable, who lived in the house next door.
My father worked for Kinnett Dairies. Then and now, he rocks a crewcut, a winning smile and he could burn up a manual calculator when he “checked up” after running a milk or ice cream route. One of the earliest memories of my dad’s job had nothing to do with his work. It had everything to do with the Kinnett family’s country place and the annual company picnic that was held there.
We had a white, 1960 Ford Falcon and I remember rolling down a long dirt road out near what is now Ladonia, Ala. and being greeted by an old black man named Pug, who was the caretaker at Kinnetticutt Lake, the Kinnett family’s country place. As I was preparing to write this blog post, I called John Kinnett to make sure the name I had recalled was the caretaker’s correct name. Mr. John told me that his family bought that 10-acre lake and the surrounding property in 1942. The cabin, the lake and the property around them was the site of many Kinnett Dairies company picnics.
That tiny lake is as big as an ocean in my mind’s eye. A ferris wheel, boat rides, laughing children, all the ice cream you could hold, hot dogs and hamburgers and Cokes were what the party looked like on the surface. But, on a deeper level for Eric and me, it was a day that we couldn’t wait to arrive. We checked off every one of the 364 days that led up to THE day of the Kinnett Dairies company picnic.
The day of the picnic was getting close. Our parents left and headed for a Florida courtroom where the facts of our grandparents’ deaths were to be discussed. We were frantic, Eric and I. Our parents were gone for days. They were still out of town when the picnic date came and with our urging, plans had been made to get us to the picnic. Relatives Mike and Marilyn Reid were going to pick us up and take us to the picnic. We got up that morning and got dressed. Sometime around mid-morning, Eric and I went outside and stood on the sidewalk to wait for our ride to come. We stood, and stood….and stood. Mama Nell tried to get us to come back into the house. We waved her off and kept looking up the street for our ride.
By the time we realized we weren’t going to be picked up, night had fallen and we were reduced to standing on the curb holding hands and crying. I know it is crazy, but I clearly remember the crushing disappointment of this day 51 years later. A seven-year-old never forgets.
Be nice to your seven-year-old.
Bebe Bahnsen says
How sad. How sweet.
Margie Richardson says
That is so sad! Why didn’t they come to get you and your brother? Did your grandmother know they weren’t coming? Y’all shouldn’t have been disappointed like that! Glad you have fond memories of the company picnic — reminds me of the ones we worked on at AFLAC in Pine Mountain!
Bill McLemore says
Mike and Marilyn Reid left two boys waiting in disappointment. What a story! No, Mike, seven year olds never forget. Did you ever learn what happened that they weren’t there OR how things turned out with the law suit in Florida. At this point, Paul Harvey would say, “And now for the rest of the story!” But then, maybe we don’t want to hear it.
I preached a Pentecost sermon at a little Episcopal Church 31 miles west of here, St. James’, West Dundee, Illinois, and began with a story when I was five years old in a country church near Camp Claiborne, Louisiana. Five-year-olds don’t forget either. Love, Bill
Betsy Covington says
Well! Now I’ve already had my tearful moment for the day it’s not even 6 am! What a sweet, sad story.
Leonard Crain says
Eh oh I am sorry for Mike and Marylin Reid today too!
Will Venable says
Mike, you already know how much I love Lake Walter Richards near Fortson, GA. My Dad worked for ‘Tom Houston’s’ as a Big Rig Truck Driver and we had the same company picnics every year at the pool that I described in Mom’s eulogy. Those were the BEST days! Did you guys really wait there all day? Thanks for sharing!
Marquette McKnight says
Although I’ve heard this story more than once — at my request — it still chokes me up. The visceral pain you express every time you tell this story is something I think we all relate to; that sweet expectation of glorious childhood summer traditions, tragically diminished. I never get over the mental image of you and Eric, standing on the curb together, holding hands and blubbering -it’s so poignant. You are a fabulous story-teller. In person and in print.
Becky Basset says
Well, I just have to know! Why did Mike and Marilyn not pick you up? Great story – strong memory. Thanks for sharing it.
Margie says
I’ve gotta know the rest of the story, Mike. Did they just forget? How sad! I never knew about your grandparents – how VERY sad! The things we remember…
Angela Marine says
We have much in common. My grandmother was killed by a drunk driver when I was 5 years old. I remember the crying and heartbreak and I also remember (like Will) many great picnics at Tom’s Lake. The coldest water on earth. Thanks for the memories friend.
Jo Cates says
Mike, I love your stories. Have you ever thought of publishing a book of short stories? It would be great. I will be your first customer.
Willa Ogletree says
What a sweet story. I too remember my Dad having a 4 door white Ford Falcon. I help him deliver newspaper in it. Again, thanks for a wonderful story, that brought back memories of my Dad, especially here at father’s day. He still lives with me everyday in my heart and often in my dreams.
Mike Morrison says
My wife and i were driving back from visit with friends and had a 4 hour drive and i started telling her a great childhood memory. My father, R.L. Morrison (Dooney) to all his friends was assistant sales manager at Tom’s Foods in Columbus, Ga. We had moved to Columbus from Ft Worth, Tx when i was in 3rd grade and moved to California where i started 7th grade . I told my wife about a bus that would leave early in the morning from the Toms plant and take us to Lake Houston and spend the day swimming in that big swimming pool and how cold the water was coming from a natural spring with ice cold water. We would place watermelons in the water to keep cold. I came home and Googled Lake Houston, Columbus, Ga and i hope the article is referring to Lake Houston (name may not have even been Lake Houston) Should have been about 1953 or 1954. We spent several weekends at that large log cabin, fishing and swimming. Hope this is the same lake that is referred to in previous article. But i remember Mr Walter Richards (President of Toms), Rupert Triplett, VP) Great place to grow up. Wife and i planning for a trip to Ga in about 6 weeks but not sure if i could ever find the lake. If not same lake sorry for taking your time but that lake and Toms was a part of my life for over 50 years….Thanks for the memories!!