On a summer day in the month of May
A burly bum came a hiking
Down a shady lane through the sugar cane
He was looking for his liking
As he strolled along he sang a song of the land of milk and honey
Where a bum can stay for many a day
And he won’t need any money . . .
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain
The cops have wooden legs
The bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmers’ trees are full of fruit
The barns are full of hay
I want to go where there ain’t no snow
Where the sleet don’t fall and the wind don’t blow
In that Big Rock Candy Mountain . . . (Burl Ives)
This wonderful old song from the early 1900s, made even more famous in that great movie O Brother, Where Art Thou, was one of my grandmother’s favorites. And my mom used to tell stories of her own early married life in the late 1930s, when those whom she would refer to as hobos would come to our house looking for a “cup of coffee.” She would always give them a plate of food that they would eat out by the old lilac bush and cistern. I later learned that the custom in the lives of these traveling men was to leave a mark at these houses for others coming after them which meant, in essence, “good grub, nice folks, good place to stop and set a spell.”
In these days of the Great Depression, that kind of hospitality was simple and straightforward. Even if you were dirt poor, you gave what you had. It always surprised me that my mother, who was a cautious type, would be that brave when she was so young. I think she enacted those Bible stories about “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares” without even thinking about it.
Because that’s what you did.
In future generations, may our descendants look back on our time today with similar admiration and respect for our willingness to “entertain strangers.”