A day in the life of a 5-year-old boy in 1935.

And what a day it could be even for a youngster who had to share almost nothing with five siblings.

Like almost every day, this day started about 5 a.m. when he was up and ready to help a mother, a lone parent living on little more than hope.

But that didnt bother the little boy. When you survive life without, you dont know anything about life with.

Mom would be ready to start fixing breakfast after he started the fire in the potbelly stove, and what a meal it would be. Homemade biscuits with grease gravy was as good as it could get.

And his mom liked the way he prepared that meal day after day. His biscuits were broken up into small bites and stacked in a cone-shaped manner. He called it gravy on the treetop.

Then it was up from the kitchen table and out the back door for a day of activities a whole lot like the day before. It started with a walk out of the backyard and onto property occupied by the Illinois Central Railroad. It was his place, he thought, to see if the huge steam engine was ready for its daily trip to Horse Branch and a meeting with a northeast IC train.

The little boy was sort of a pet with the understanding trainmen. They knew he lost his dad at the age of 2 and his part of helping run that railroad yard was deemed very important.

When there was time, Mr. Norman (last name unknown), the yardmaster, would walk him around the engine in a pretense of making sure it was ready for the days run. And he would tell his friend that he thought it was OK.

That railroad yard and the kindness of its employees was a vital part of the youngsters welfare.

When aware of his need for coal, Mr. Adkins, the big strong man who nightly refilled the engines hopper, would intentionally drop several shovels full down between the coal car and hopper so it could later be gathered up by the boy and taken to his coal-heated house.

Also available, thanks to the trainmen, was the ice remaining in the engines cooler when the train returned to the yard every afternoon. It served to keep the familys icebox in working order.

And then there was Owensboro Milling Company, the forerunner of Owensboro Grain, a business that also helped Hamilton Avenue residents with their need for corncobs.

The 5-year-old took advantage of that generosity by keeping a good supply of the waste product that was used to help make starting fires in stoves and grates a lot easier.

But coal, corncobs and making sure the big engine was ready for its daily run did not fill the little boys day. There would be games of marbles, pitching washers, sweeping the all-dirt backyard and perhaps making a homemade kite.

There would be walks through the cornfield separating Hamilton Avenue and Daviess County High to watch the older boys playing baseball, and riding his skipmobile down a long sidewalk that stretched from the front of the school to U.S. 60.

And what was a skipmobile? It was a scooter made of 2-by-4s and discarded iron state wheels.

Last but certainly not least would be a relaxing and loved-filled evening with Mom in the front porch swing. She would ask about his day and listen with ultimate interest. And when necessary, she would thank him for the coal and corncobs.

That made a little boy proud on a day in 1935.

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A day in the life of a 5-year-old boy in 1935 - messenger-inquirer