I started my first business when I was about 8 years old. I sold homemade sassafras tea from my front yard. The sales didn’t go real well as there weren’t many people who lived on our road at the time.

When we would hear a car come by our home, we would run to the window to see who was driving by. The neighbors I remember driving past my home on occasion were The Williams family, The Meltzers, Dick Miller, The Akers, The Gibbons Clan, The Vogts, The Weirichs, and one or two others.

There were a lot of family and friends who lived in the woods at the end of Kuykendahl, but I didn’t get to see them too often, so I can’t remember all of their names. These were times when you didn’t just jump into your car on every whim and drive to town. Most trips to the city were planned and usually done one or two times a week.

We could see Bud Turk’s house and Reverend Matthews’, but they were on the other side of us and we never saw them drive by. I also remember the night Reverend Matthews’ house caught on fire and my daddy rushed down to help them.

There was no 911 call to make. It was simply neighbor helping neighbor. It didn’t matter the culture or financial status or the color of a man’s skin, when someone needed help, you went.

As I grew older and my freedoms were expanded, I eventually hitched up my wagon to my bicycle and started peddling my tea door to door. There was an abundance of customers, at least three or four of them, within walking distance, but the larger crowds were in downtown Hufsmith. There was a potential market of 20 to 30 people where I figured a sale could be made.

The biggest sale I made was the day I took my traveling trade through downtown Hufsmith and sold four glasses of the stuff to an extra-large young kid a couple of years older than me. I wish I could have remembered his name, as I would like to think him for the purchase.

All I can remember about him was the great big smile on his face and the gleam in his eye when he chug-a-lugged each glass and promptly thrust the glass back at me and said “more,” and I would promptly re-fill each glass and collect another nickel. I have a hunch his mama would have stopped him if she would have known how much of the stuff he had drank. I’ll bet he wet the bed.

Sassafras is an abundant crop in these parts. It still makes good root beer or tea, whichever you prefer to call it. I made some for a group of young boys several years ago and they couldn’t believe such a dirty tree root could taste so good.

My second business venture was operating as a tomato farmer. I used to plant a good crop of tomatoes in my garden as a 12-year-old and sold to the only market in town, Mama Goodson’s Cafe. Mrs. Goodson was a cousin of my Grandma Osgood. For those who don’t know this, Mama Goodson’s originated in Hufsmith. I love the current Goodson’s, but the atmosphere of the old café, of course, is gone.

When you would walk in the front door Ms. Kerri and Mrs. Goodson could be heard in the kitchen. They usually hollered at each other and then Ms. Christen would holler the orders from the front window to the back. I don’t know why everybody hollered, but I can only assume ts was ’cause they couldn’t hear over the noise they would make when they beat those steaks on top of the old choppin’ block.

I remember as a kid wondering if they were beatin’ somebody up or slappin’ a baby’s behind. The raw meat against a wooden meat tenderizer sounded just like a spankin’. I can still hear the whap, whap, whap as they would tenderize the steaks over and over again to create those oversized chicken fried steaks, and you could also hear the grease pop when they would put in a fresh batch of hand peeled French Fries. The extra-large cheeseburgers were two meals in one!

The old cafe was a segregated place. White people would go up front and black people would go in the back. I’m glad this part of history is over. I still remember the time I went in the back and had more fun because they had a juke box in the back. As I got older the back of the restaurant was the place I would enter to ply my trade to Mrs. Goodson.

Raymond Christmas and I used to peel potatoes under the shade trees outside. My peeling days were very limited as Robert Goodson and Shine were the head potato peelers.

Of course, the move from Hufsmith left an opening for a new business opportunity and many years later The Weirich Children and their families got together and established Mel’s Café. They have picked up some fine country cooking techniques and have carried on a Hufsmith tradition of good food.

Mrs. Goodson would pay me 25 cents a pound for my tomatoes. I did real well that year.

Clifford

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