Matchsticks

     When my oldest brother Charles, the firstborn of our family, was a little boy, he went with our parents to visit Daddy's first cousin, Thurman, the brother of James. I only mention James because he used to come see us and I remember him, but I have no recollection of Thurman.

    They were sons of Uncle Martin, the brother of my paternal Grandmother; more relatives of my past whom I do not remember, which has nothing to do with this story except for explaining the familial trail and letting the reader know that most of these people, although in my ancestry, are figments of my imagination.

    The interesting detail of little Charles' visit with Thurman, which made it memorable for him, is that it took place at the local prison, Sandy Ridge Correctional Center, also known as Sandy Ridge Prison Camp. Evidently cousin Thurman had drifted from the straight and narrow and ended up in the slammer.

    We do not know why Thurman went up the river, but Charles thinks it may have been for offenses along the lines of lesser crimes of larceny or such. The details are either six feet under or at the county courthouse, neither of which is readily accessible to me at the moment.

    While Thurman rehabilitated in prison, he made a picture frame out of matchsticks. It hung for a time on the living room wall of my childhood home and where it is now is anybody's guess. Assuming it escaped the landfill, it could be resting at the bottom of a cedar chest underneath the weight of another's past.

   Thurman died in 1971 at the age of 53, a young man to many of us. He had a couple of brothers, James and Clarence. Sound familiar? Some will understand why this is significant.

    Thurman lived a short life and unfortunately misused his time allotted here on Earth. He was probably quite a character, mischievous, daring and unafraid. Certainly there is more to his story, but a snippet is all I am told and a snippet will have to suffice until I can write the next chapter. I only hope that at some point in his life, Thurman saw the error of his ways and straightened himself out before he met his Maker. Hopefully, he made it to heaven to turn out a few more picture frames.