In 1973 I was in high school. It was the year of the Eldorado Centennial. I recall Mr. McRoy growing a beard for the special celebration. The thought of 50 years later writing a piece about the event did not cross his mind.

Billy B. thought of many things in 1973. The church work that he was involved in took up a large part of his time. Academics came easy to him and he studied little. Chet joined him at his little non-denominational church on the weekends. Chet seemed to like it very much. Billy B. often thought of him and Chet playing with Chet’s Daniel Boone action figure and eating Oscar Meyers Wieners directly out of the plastic wrap that they came in. Also their mutual affection for the Orpheum Theatre and trips to Pounds Hollow for summer swims. Chet had his cap set to become an accountant. Chet was good with accounting. His dad had passed away in the night a few years earlier. His mom Thelma was a no-nonsense woman. Thelma described Chet as a little fleshy.

Chet and Billy B. met on the first day of First Grade. They both were named Brooks and their birthdays were both on October 24th. Billy B. had the goal of moving closer to his church and becoming a minister. The day after graduation he moved. Billy B. either assisted in officiating at funerals or indeed was the minister for many of them.

Eldorado was a happening place. Fifty years ago the coal mines were still the best job around in Little Egypt. Eldorado Coal Miners had nice homes and often a new vehicle and a boat as well. They worked a lot of overtime. Those days were the days of the Wild Cat Strike. A miner friend told Billy B. that all that was required for a Wild-
Cat was for a miner to pour his water out of his two-tier lunch and water container…then everyone on the work shift walked out and went home.

In those halcyon days, every graduate was not expected to attend University. Many politicians did not have college degrees. People did not concern themselves too much about what their neighbors were doing except for what could be gleaned by front porch evenings or over the fence after hanging out the laundry to dry and fasten the wet garments and towels and sheets with wooden clothes pins to the clothesline. Communication was slow…almost like the Pony Express. If you wanted to know how your friends or family who lived a few miles away….you wrote them a letter or dropped them a postcard. The postage was cheaper on postcards.

Billy B. was focused on treating everyone as he wanted to be treated. He had dreams of a good life. He has had one and is grateful for it.