PART 2 of Kent Williams' Remembrance
At this time my mother and all the adults at the barn came running to my rescue. Reflecting back, I really was quite lucky, receiving only many, many cuts and scratches from the rough bark of the wood. More than likely I was shirtless, meaning that the damage was done to the chest and stomach area. I do remember plenty of crying and being very frightened. It was not long that my big brother, true hero, and fixer of all things, came on the scene. He took me home, washed my wounds, and applied that dreaded, stinging mercurochrome to each spot of injury. If it stung a little - that was O K -I was in great hands. When Ben finished, just for good measure, he used the medicine to write my name on my belly, of which I proudly exhibited to any and everyone I came in contact with for the next two days. It was a short spell following this experience that Ben would leave home to attend Berea College in Kentucky; I was a very sad little boy. Some time later he sent a package home with a special T shirt for me adorned with the Berea logo. I did so look forward to him coming home and was so happy while he was there; but I also remember after he was home for a few days, I became cognizant of the fact that his date of departure was approaching. This awareness caused me great sadness that so intensified up to the moment he actually left; I was nearly inconsolable! We had an uncle (Bernard) that related to me years later, that Ben had told him how much he dreaded leaving me when he returned to school. I think I shall always remember him in those far gone days on the farm and I will never forget.
Note: We each can decide if Proust was right.

Proust has been quoted (not verbatim) as saying: one can only truly appreciate an occurrence or event in their life except through the remembrances thereof. Often when the word "memories" is encountered it is preceded by the adjective "cherished." This conjunction makes for a most positive and agreeable sentiment. These events or happenings do not have to be of a major or important nature to become ensconced in one's mind. This is the kind of narrative presented here.
I think most will agree that when children are fairly close in age, there can be much "fighting and fussing" between them. The younger of the two never gets to do what the older sibling is doing; he just sort of tags along, and usually from the older one's perspective "is always in the way!" It is a fact of life. My situation however, was totally different, for I had a much older brother, Ben, who was 14 years my senior and a sister Nancy, of whom was around 12 years older than me. Being the baby in family (and totally unspoiled!) I could do little wrong in their eyes.
Growing up in the tobacco culture of Piedmont, North Carolina, small children were always around farming activity. This included the edge of fields, woods, and especially the tobacco barn and adjacent areas during harvesting season. This is where the origin of my remembrance took place. At that time wood was used to heat (cure) the tobacco hanging in the barn. Therefore, beside every barn was a wood stack consisting of many small logs 8 to 10 inches in diameter stacked vertically around each other, somewhat tepee style. At maybe the age of 4, for some reason I decided to climb the wood stack. After getting a good distance off the ground the particular piece of wood I was holding to, evidently was not leaning inward enough toward the main stack. It dislodged from the other logs in a backward motion carrying me with it to the ground; a fall of perhaps 6 or 7 feet.
PLEASE SEE PART 2.....

I loved my Uncle Ben, even though we didn't get to see our Texas family as often as we wished. Uncle Ben, whose accent I can still hear, left an impression on me- his sense of humor, how much he loved Aunt Mary Nita and his daughters, and how Mom and Dad were so... different (jubilant?)  when they were together. 
All my love and condolences to Kathryn,  Mark, and the grandchildren.  
I'd like to think Ben and Nita and Betty/Lib and EV are having a Berea reunion at Boones Tavern.
Mike Holder

I am so sorry for your family’s loss.  These last years have been so tough for you all.   Sending prayers for comfort and peace and love to you all🙏🙏🙏

Love,
Jan Martin Boyle

Ben and Nita were one of 4 couples that purchased new houses side by side in Shreveport.
A strong friendship lasted a lifetime.  We all assembled annually to hear Ben tell his stories.
Repetition did not bother him until the listeners decided to raise their hand if they had heard it.
He smiled but would go ahead.


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Benjamin Swann Williams Jr.

26 janvier 1933 – 3 septembre 2022

Waltrip Funeral Directors

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