The Telephone Pole Hole

The Telephone Pole Hole

by Tom Woodard

If you read the story about things I remember from my childhood and youth, you'll recall that we in rural Pickens County, Alabama, didn't get telephones until the mid-50s, or perhaps the later 50s. But the time did come, and when the telephone company was putting in the lines, they dug a hole at the edge of our yard, near the highway. It being the end of the day, and there not being the litigious atmosphere that we have now, the men went home and left that hole uncovered and unattended.

Well, it just so happened that we kids were home alone, so to speak, that day, being watched over by my dear and wonderful Cousin Anne, who was a few years older than I. We loved to be kept by Anne, because she was so much fun. She played with us, loved us, and had one of the sweetest and best personalities ever! It was warm weather, which meant long days, so there was plenty of daylight left when the men left that hole, intending to return the following day to set the pole, and the presence of that hole, six feet deep and seemingly, to children so young, huge, was irresistable.

It smelled of fresh, damp clay (a pleasant, sweet smell), and was, to us, SO DEEP. It occurred to one of us, if not all, that Anne could lower us, one at a time, into that hole! It was a great adventure, and we each had our turn being lowered into the hole, experiencing seeing a circle of sky and trees above from that cylinder in the earth, and feeling at the same time both exhilerated and a little scared - before being pulled up and out by dear Anne.

We then decided that Anne should get in the hole, too. I think she protested a little, but not too much, and good-naturedly got in the hole. Now being a little older, Anne was beginning to turn into a real female, which meant that she was developing those attributes which turn young men's heads. And Anne was no skinny, scrawny girl either. Well, she had her turn and then we set out to pull her from the hole, but we couldn't do it. Those shapely hips were packed into the sides of that hole like a girl in a pair of tight bluejeans! And we just weren't strong enough to pull her out. Not with that hole wanting to keep her! And who could blame it?

There being no adults around, we soon became just a little panicky - not so much as to lose our heads, however. We finally flagged down some men passing by in an automobile - men we knew - and they rescued poor Anne from her "dungeon". Those pretty hips left two vertical lines on opposite sides of the hole, clearly evidencing her departure! Naturally, the rescuers found a little humor in the situation (and perhaps more than a little), tho they were too polite to make fun of Anne's distress. . . . And I have enjoyed recalling this incident all through the years - both as a recollection of my dear, sweet, beloved cousin, and as one of those memorable misadventures of childhood.

Things like this can't happen quite as easily as they could back then. Regulations, political correctness, and a litigious society prevent leaving a hole like that uncovered for an evening. And it was potentially dangerous, but I'm glad that we had the opportunity to see the world from the bottom of that deep, cool, freshly dug hole, and I'm glad for the memories of those wonderful times we spent with my dear Cousin Anne.

To this very day, Cousin Anne is one of the sweetest people I know. God bless you, Anne!

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