Rocky Branch

Rocky Branch

Union Parish

Written By: Gwendolyn S Smith

ROCKY BRANCH, IS ONLY A PLACE ON HI WAY 143, about 14 miles north of West Monroe on hwy143, THERE'S A SMALL STORE, A BLINKING LIGHT OUT ON THE HI WAY, LOTS OF CHURCHES, BUT NO TOWN. BEFORE THE NAME WAS CHANGED TO ROCKY BRANCH, IT WAS NAMED COLSON. ALL MY CHILD HOOD IT WAS CALLED NIP-N-TUCK, SOME OF THE OLDER FOLK STILL CALL IT THAT. NOW PEOPLE OFTEN JUST CALL IT "THE BRANCH".

ALL SCATTERED THREW OUT THE AREA, ARE OLD INDIAN MOUNDS. IN THE FALL AND WINTER, WHEN A LOT OF THE UNDERBRUSH HAS LOST IT'S LEAVES, COMING FROM WEST MONROE, YOU CAN SEE SOME OF THEM OFF IN THE WOODS FROM THE ROAD. ARROW HEADS, BROKEN POTTERY, STONE AXE'S, CAN STILL BE FOUND LAYING ON THE GROUND, OR PLOWED UP.

FOR MANY YEARS IT WAS A SCHOOL THERE, RIGHT NEXT TO THE CEMETERY. MY MOM, WENT TO SCHOOL THERE, I WENT THERE, AS DID MY CHILDREN, AND MY GRAND CHILDREN. FOR MANY YEARS MY AUNT, GLADYS HAYES WAS THE SCHOOL COOK, AND OLEN HAYES WAS THE CARE TAKER. A FEW YEARS AGO, THEY TORE DOWN THE OLD SCHOOL HOUSE AND BUILT A NEW ONE, NOW THAT SCHOOL IS CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC.

I don't have a problem with where I came from, and if it was some way to go back and change it, I wouldn't. On hwy143, close to the blinking light, it's a road leading off from the main hwy, to the right, some 5 miles or so down that road, you take another road, that passes Dad's, sister, Aunt Ida, then it was his Mom's and Dads house, on the next hill over was my Auntie house, then Mama's and Papa house, the road ended at their house, and these woods is where I grew up.

I think the nicest thing Mama owned was a picture of Jesus, it was in round frame, with a oval glass, right next to that was a picture of the late and great and Huey P. Long.

He had went out to the people, would sit and talk to them, he'd had many a cool glass of "water", [ not the kind of water that you know about, but the homemade kind] with papa outside under a tree, he didn't just stop and ask for a vote then leave, he's sit down and visit, if he was there at meal time, he'd stay and eat. The people loved him, and didn't forget him, long after he was shot and killed.

My early years of growing up, I didn't realize we were poor, after all we were better off than many others in the area. I can't ever remember us needing anything, important. My grandmother was the local seamstress, the clothes we played in may have been old, faded, and patched, and we didn't wear shoes, until after first frost, but come Sunday we wore what I always thought of as nice, pretty clothes, all crisp, starched, and ironed, our shoes may have been old, but were fresh polished. On Sundays as we were dressed, we were stood in the front room, until time to go, no playing, or even sitting down which would wrinkle our clothes, or scuff our shoes. Papa had a wooden box bench in the back of the pick-up, much like tool box's are put in trucks today. On Sundays, and the once a month trips to town, the edge of a quilt would be placed across the box, we would be placed in line across the box, and the other edge would be brought up to cover us. It was nice and warm in the winter, but even in the hottest time of summer, we were still covered to keep the sand, and dust that the truck stirred up off us. Auntie, [mother's sister] would march us out, and place us one at a time, arranging our clothes so they wouldn't wrinkle. Then it was the long talk, about how we had better sit still, and not have any scuff marks on our shoes, and how we would behave in church, she would wave her stick around and tell how if we didn't, she would beat us, and our bottoms would be too sore to sit at the table for dinner, and it was always how we wouldn't be able to walk for a week. I well remember how she'd often run at us waving a big stick, threatening to beat us so bad, we wouldn't be able to sit, but try as hard as I can, I can't remember her ever even spanking us.

Sundays was always a lot of fun once we got home from church, very seldom did the Preacher miss coming for dinner, and often different ones from the family would come over, so it would be other kids for us to play with, but the main part of the day was dinner, that was always a feast, with pie's & cakes.

Our monthly trip to Farmerville for staples, was exciting, and planned for well in advance. The night before, mama would fry up some chickens, and have it packed in lard cans, maybe a lard can with fried potatoes, or okra, sometimes boiled eggs, it'd be bisects, and a jar of either home made jam, or jelly, a couple jars of drinking water would be packed. It was up before daylight, Papa getting his chores done, while mama was getting a meal on the table, and made the beds, wash the dishes, everything in the house had to clean and proper before we left. Come day-light we loaded up and was on our way. Uncle Olen would drive, while my Aunt would watch the speed dial, anytime he got over 15 miles per hour, she would start in on him about how he was going to kill us all, if he didn't slow down. About half way to town, we would always stop at a creek for a break, to let the truck cool down, and get a drink of water. Uncle Olen would take his bucket to the creek for water, we'd pass the dipper around until everyone had their fill, and he'd add water to the truck. Often it'd be many people that had also stopped for water, and the grown-ups would often go around to speak to everyone. After the break was over, we'd be on our way again. Once in Farmerville, we'd look for a shady spot under a tree at the court house. Like many other families, we'd have our quilt on the ground, the grown-up would walk around visiting each other, before going after the staples, while the kids played on the court house grounds. After everything was bought, and packed away in the truck, it was time to eat. Often the men, and little ones napped on the quilts, while the ladies had the chance to visit and gossip. Before it got too late everyone was on their way, wanting to get home before dark.

Once when it was my turn to get a new dress, mama took me with her, and let me pick out the bag of flour, that my dress would be made from. Soon as I saw one with roosters, that was the one I wanted, mama tried to talk me into getting one with flowers, but I fell in love with the roosters, and was so proud of my dress. After I out grew it, it became part of a quilt, which I laid claim to.

The back of Papa's land went right down to The Luder. The Luder, it's been wrote about, and sung about, cussed, and praised, the correct way to say it is, Da Loot Ter, you can find it on the map, and the spelling can be different from map to map, and book to book. It's a one of kind of place, part of the year, it can be only a small stream, when the rain comes it can be a river, and during high water it's a swamp. It's a lot of wild life that made it their home, there's wolf's, gaters, snakes, cats, both painters, and bob cats, or Lynx, and lots of wild boar, and wild steers, it was black bears down there when I was a kid, but haven't heard of one being seen for many years. When the water would rise, it would come pass the fence, into the pasture. Being the fence would keep the gators out it was a good place for the kids to play around in the water.

Guess it's been close to 10 years since I've laid eyes on a painter, I can't believe they all are gone, at least I don't want to be live it. It's said, there are things down in that swamp that man never See's. I have good reason to believe that, I've seen things in there myself, that I didn't understand. I grew up on the strange and scary stories about what all lived in the swamp, some of the stories, would fit what is now called big foot, but it wasn't called that, no one had any idea what it was or what to call it, it was just a swamp monster. Like any swamp DaLuder can change in just a few hours, and one can get lost real easy, many has gotten lost down there, and had to have search parties go in to find them, if you don't understand the nature of the swamp, you shouldn't go in it. Growing up it was just our playground, and I couldn't understand how anyone could get lost down there. I loved going back down in there, in the heat of summer, it was lots cooler, doubt it's one inch in walking distance of the house that I haven't traveled. One of the biggest excitement's of my childhood, was the day a big truck was setting poles in the ground, and running electric lines, even run the lines into the house, and Papa brought home a radio. Life as I knew it changed right then.

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