“The Gift of a Heifer”
I remember talking to my mom and dad when I joined the 4-H club in the 4th grade. As a motivated 4-H member, I desperately needed a project to prove my worth in our club. My best friend was planning to raise a steer from his father’s Black Angus herd. Even though we had a farm we had no cows. We had a nice pasture, but my grandfather stopped raising cows years earlier. He obtained beef from the table from his brother, who had more than 75 head of Polled Hereford cattle. I told my dad I needed somehow to obtain a calf for a 4-H project. I did not know at the time whether we had money to buy one or not. But I asked him just to see if I could have one.
I am not sure when he asked Mrs. Jackson or why he asked her instead of my grandfather’s brother. Perhaps, he simply felt more comfortable asking outside the family. One Saturday, I went with my dad to the only “Beer Joint” in our local community. York County, SC was wet. Gaston County, NC was dry. SC Hwy 321 connected Clover, SC to Gastonia, NC about 9 miles of highway. It was and is today the main thoroughfare between these two cities (actually, to be fair, Clover is a town, Gastonia is a city).
On this Saturday morning, I was taken by my dad for the first of only two times to see Mrs. Jackson. Her husband and she owned the “Beer Joint”, and made their income selling beer and short orders like burgers and hot dogs. They also sold a few other grocery items. Their Saturdays were their busy times, as persons from Gastonia came down every weekend to obtain beverages unobtainable in Gaston County, North Carolina. Apparently they made good money, as she told me she had almost 200 head of cattle.
While sitting there on the bar stool, she asked me to tell her about my 4-H project. I told her in as glowing terms as a 4th grader could muster about my need for a calf to show at the spring cattle judging contest in York, SC. I told her if I raised my calf well, I could show it in the spring at the 4-H/FFA show.
She asked me if I would accept a heifer. I told her, “Yes, by all means!” I was so excited, I wanted to hug her. I thanked her profusely the best I could and she gave me a small Coca-Cola to drink. Within a week, while I was at school, when I arrived home I found a young Polled Hereford heifer in the stall of our barn. I raised my heifer in the stall for a time until I felt she was familiar with me. Then, I took her out into the pasture to teach her to lead for the show. She dragged me around the pasture by the chain I had placed on her leather halter. I became exasperated at her unwillingness to lead properly, so I wrapped the chair around a medium size cedar tree and stopped her cold! She never bucked me again. Once broken she was easy to lead. I did everything I could to get her to a weight acceptable for showing in the spring, but according to my 4-H instructor she was 100lbs too light to go to the show. For a time I cried about that.
But my dad and grandfather said for me to keep my heifer on the farm. I did and when she was mature enough I bred her to his brother’s bull. She threw a nice bull calf the first time, but times two and three she had a heifer. By the time I was in high school my two brothers and I had a herd of about 6-7 cattle. We took all the bull calves and steered these so we could have meat for the table. The heifers we kept for the herd. When I started college, I could not keep these any more, as I was away from the farm too much and the cows would sometimes get out of the pasture. So I sold them and divided the money with my brothers. With my portion I bought a stereo to use in my college dorm room, which I have to this day!
I have gone back in my mind several times as to why I only spoke to Mrs. Jackson one more time about a year after the gift of the heifer. She asked my dad to bring me by the store so she could hear about the calf and I told her how good the heifer had done for me. I could tell by her smile she was very pleased! That day she gave me a 1955 D over S nickel. I found out later it was worth from $40 – $50. I was so pleased with this gift, I began to collect nickels and pennies in a coin collection. I did not know at the time how quickly a collecting hobby can become a passion. For years, I searched for nickels and pennies for my collection. Once I dreamed about finding a 1909 SVDB Lincoln penny. I never did, of course, but I did have two 1909 Lincoln’s, but not the most famous. By the time I went to college I had a really nice collection of Indian Head pennies, too. My grandfather gave me an 1879 Carson City Silver Dollar, which I still have. My nickel collection is somewhere hidden in a safe place. The Indian Head collection was left at my mother’s and it got distributed in the estate settlement.
Mrs. Jackson, I found out later was a relative of mine, by marriage. I never once saw her in our church. Apparently, she and her husband felt ‘estranged’ from the other cousins in our community, who felt that running a “beer joint” was against God’s best will. Nevertheless, my dad did not approach any of the church-going folk to ask for a calf for his son. Compassion is not always found in the walls of a church building, nor within the hearts of the most religious in the community. Sometimes, compassion is found in someone who feels “estranged” from the community, yet whose heart is full of the love of God for a young man in need of a heifer for his 4-H project.
The gift of a heifer and later a 1955 Denver (0ver S) nickel changed my young life. For Mrs. Jackson, I shall be eternally grateful! When I meet her again in heaven, as I am sure she has proceeded me there, I will thank her for such thoughtful gifts! She was a good woman, as good as I have ever known!
“Glory be to God most High!”
“Amen!”
A Voice
Modern Stories of the Way 