1965 - That Chicken though.....

I was about 5 years old, and my parents and my sister and I had driven down from Virginia to visit our family in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. We were visiting Grandma Rosa Varnell and her son Allen Barber "Doc" Varnell at their home at Little Easonburg Crossroads, Hwy 64 West, between Rocky Mount and Nashville. Uncle Doc was his nickname as he was named after Doctor Allen Barber who delivered him in 1928.

I decided to ride with Dad and Uncle Doc as Grandma wanted a 'fresh' chicken to kill, pluck, clean and cook for dinner. So, off we went in the 1957 Pontiac. Huge metal car with no seat belts and an Indian head hood ornament (ok - today it's Native American). I loved that hood ornament. It even lit up if I remember correctly. Had some serious itchy back seats though (woven fabric that reminded me of old army blankets).....but I digress. I was sitting in the front of the car between Dad and Uncle Doc. They picked up the chicken and his legs were tied so he couldn't be free inside the car. He was placed on the back floorboard passenger side.



This was a time (1960s) when you could leave your children in the car, tell them not to get out (after ensuring there was plenty of fresh air to breath) and you could leave them in the car for a few minutes to pick something up at a store. As children, we weren't always allowed to go inside when traveling with adults. Children of today are front and foremost, where we were seen not heard back then.

Dad and Uncle Doc went inside the Country store located at Little Easonburg. (Today there is a L&L Station/Convenience Store there). This L&L in on the south side of the intersection as you're driving east from Rocky Mount west to Nashville NC.

As I watch my dad and Uncle walk into that store, I peek over the bench seat to look at the hen in the floorboard. It is then I notice that the hen is moving around a lot and that she is starting to get loose from her binding. Of course, within a minute or two after they go inside, the chicken is loose and starting to flap her wings and jump around the car. She jumps into the back seat, and flops around, and then jumps over the bench seat and when she makes it in the front seat, I'm headed for the back seat. I think she jumps back into the back seat again and I go back up into the front seat. I move all the way over and push my face against the drivers side window and I'm bawling my eyes out.

Two old black men walk past me and go into the store. One of the old black men asked Dad, "Does that little girl in the car belong to one of you gentlemen? When he said yes, they told him "Something is wrong". "She's crying her eyes out". Within minutes, Dad and Uncle Doc are coming out and I am safe.



They caught the chicken, bound her legs up again, and I was safe. The chicken made it back to Grandma's and we had chicken for dinner that night. For the life of me, I can't remember eating the chicken, but I'm sure it happened. Now that I'm much older, I realize that the hen was much more scared than I was, and she had every right to be frightened.