The Greatest Gift | Eastern NC Now

RANDOM SHOTS

THE GREATEST GIFT

One of our readers asked if I would write a few things about times past in Washington. As we had published a story on the rescue squad, this one came to mind.

In 1958 communications were not good. No cell phones, no continuity with law enforcement communications and a few CB radios that could reach out about six to nine miles.

The fire station could sound a loudspeaker signal that gave us some locations by whistle count. Other signals were to assemble and find out where to go.

The Squad was all volunteers, and so our calls came by phone, usually from the police department or the fire department.

I was working in my father’s general store on Main Street. This was before the days of Walmart, A&P, Lowes and Food Lion’s. He had a general store on main street along with the Tally Bros. and just up the street from Harris Hardware and J.K Hoyts Dept Store. All long gone now.

I got a call from the police department that a young man had gone under at the Eurika lumber site, where the Washington Harbor development is now. The mill was designed to unload logs that were floated down the Pamlico River and then processed in the lumber yard. Years before, my grandfather had cut some of those logs. The yard had been closed for a while, but the shed and platform were still there. Sometimes boys would go there to jump in from the dock and swim.

I told the department that I would go from the store and to call another person that was on call to bring the truck and equipment.

When I reached the dock, two boys were there and one pointed and yelled “He went down right there.  Right there!”

I stripped down to my underwear and jumped in. When I dived down, I found a lot of old logs and debris but luckily, I caught the young man by his leg on the first dive, moved up under his arms and then started swimming to the surface. A man in a small wooden boat had seen the commotion and had paddled up to where I came up. It was great that he was there because it gave me a platform to pull the boy on board and then up onto the dock.

I started manual artificial respiration until the truck came with what we then called a resuscitator, really old fashioned by today’s standards. In those days we did not know about CPR. It was too late. We had not been called soon enough, and the young man had been down too long.

The next day I was back helping my dad in his general store on Main Street and a lady came in and asked for me. She said, “I am Neal’s mother. I just want to thank you for trying to save his life. I heard you did all you could. I want to make a donation to the Rescue Squad for trying to save my son’s life. Here is thirteen dollars. I wish I could give more but that’s all I can spare right now.”

I thanked her as tears ran down my face. For her, that was almost a week’s groceries in those days, and she had two younger children with her. She had cast in a lot of what she had, and I did not hesitate to take it because she wanted to do her part.

I immediately thought of the “Widow who cast her gift into the treasury.”  

“This poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury:  For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living” (Mark 12:43−44).

How similar it was when Neal’s mother made her gift to the Rescue Squad.

Of the gifts that we received, I never forgot how great this one was.