The Mill

From time to time I find myself dwelling on the mill, the flour mill my Dad owned and worked in all his life; the memory is there as far back as memories go; I grew up in it, worked in it, delivered flour all over eastern NC, climbed to the top and had flights of fancy, witnessed wind and far off distances from its 80 some feet high stance; memories of my Dad building a hopper piece by piece in an upside down pyramid to direct wheat or flour into a chute. I was about 5 years old then. Then the awful fire that burned the mill in Sanford to the ground and later our move to Henderson where Dad bought the mill there.

The hot summers when we bought wheat from the farmers all around--Glenn Easter--the dentist/farmer who had suggestions for my buck teeth; times at the wheat separater, i had to keep the trash racked off way into the night, then we go home filthy at 1-2 AM totaly worn out.

Dad was a worker and had good relations all around. Helen the office secretary was just good and steady for 50 some years.

I sold my stock 11 years ago to prevent a contentious develepment in the family as my brother's sons had taken it over; they were making decisions without the stock holders anyway. In some ways that is regrettful and I long for the times there, but then I cherish the memories and glad they are making a success of the mill.