Where Have All The Lumberyards Gone?

"Let's go to the lumber company today. We can buy wood and get some candy." I will sometimes say this to my son Barrett as he prepares to pull away from the house in his big truck and trailer. Extending a strong arm to give my shoulder a sympathetic pat, he'll usually reply, "It'll be OK, Dad. It'll be OK."

A casual observer would not understand this little ritual that's firmly rooted in yesteryear. One of the exciting things we did on Saturday mornings in those bygone days was to make expeditions to "old fashioned" lumberyards. Barrett's friend Josh would be watching from across the street to make sure we didn't leave without him.

They knew I would be buying materials for some mundane project. Still, they always hoped we would be digging a big pit and building jumping ramps that would enable them to fly across its gaping mouth on their bikes. The pit, of course, would have to be filled with snakes or fire or crocodiles to fuel the jump with excitement. But we never got the pit built.

Whenever I yelled, "Let's go to the lumber company today," the results were predictable. Rustling, scuffling and scratching sounds would emanate from Barrett's room, and he would eventually emerge with a pocket of loose change. We tried to control his sugar intake, but trips to the lumber company fell under a different dispensation. When men went to the lumber company, ordinary rules were temporarily set aside.

All the lumber companies had at least one machine filled with delectable treats, and Barrett was always anxious to stuff coins in the slots and see what might clatter down the chute. Plus, the older men behind the counters would sometimes have a little prize tucked away--a special surprise for young patrons.

This morning I shouted above the rumbling of Barrett's diesel, "Let's go to the lumber company and get some candy." Seeing my shoulders droop a bit as I hung my head, he tried to comfort me in my reflections. "It'll be OK, Dad. It'll be OK."

For just a moment, I remembered some of the places we had haunted in his childhood. Cash Lumber had gumballs. Nabholz had candy--and men behind the counter with a secret stash of suckers. Crate Deals had jawbreakers. All are out of business now, and most of our purchases these days are made at "warehouse" home improvement centers. Times change.

Where have all the old lumberyards gone? Gone, I suppose, to the same place as my little boy. The thick fog of the past has gradually enveloped them both, but sometimes on Saturday mornings I still can hear the sound of gumballs rolling down a chute. And I know it'll be OK.

Copyright 2000 James McAlister

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