The Ramblings of a Rumpled Robersonian

Robersonville is located in the middle of farming country. Farms surround the town with maybe a few partially or even wholly within the town limits. In my youth, much of the farm land was dedicated to cash crops like tobacco, cotton and peanuts, but often a small parcel might be set aside for a watermelon patch. Such was the case with a plot not far from where we lived. This particular patch, being close in and within walking distance from a big part of town, was a great temptation to adventurous teenage boys with a hankering for watermelon. One day, while I was shopping in one of the town’s small grocery stores, I couldn’t help but overhear a local farmer complaining about someone sneaking into his watermelon patch, breaking open a number of melons, and eating the fruit from the heart of each. He was so irate that he was telling all who would listen that he was going to fix the scoundrels and inject a number of melons with Spanish fly he used on his bulls. Thus, those who dared raid his patch in the future would get their just rewards. Realizing what impact the animal aphrodisiac would have on teenage boys, I had to alert those were most likely the guilty parties. I found the two melon marauders, told them what was afoot and joined their planning for an exploratory venture that night. Later, that evening, several of us snuck over to the farmer’s patch, selected three of four ripe watermelons and broke them open. Sure enough, in each of them, you could see where a foreign substance had been injected. It was just plain luck that I had overheard the farmer’s threat and was able to save my buddies from a terrible fate.

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In the early 1950s, there was only one major grocery store in Robersonville and it was located on Main Street. Additionally, there were also several small grocery stores scattered around town. These stores, while offering less goods and services than the Main Street store, did offer convenience and/or filled an ethnic niche. My dad ran one such store for a while in a building on Rail Road Street, a building which his father had had constructed. Although a minor at the time, I “clerked” part time for my dad from time-to-time. Ironically, years later, my cousins Harry Clayton and Edgar opened a grocery store in the same building and I worked part time for them the year I spent in Robersonville between tours in the Air Force. In a related footnote, I worked at the Main Street grocery store as an assistant in the meat department during my high school years.

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Hi everyone, this is Tommy Roberson and welcome. I intend to use these spaces to capture and recount memories of things past and important matters of the present as they relate to the Roberson family. This might include refinements to family history, updates to genealogical documentation, upcoming events, etc.  Please drop in on the blog regularly.  Thanks!

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