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.jpg) The
Toothbrush
By Harry P. Nobel, Jr.
An insignificant act or word can frequently reach down in the valley of memories
and coddle the heart.
On August 24, 2008
the San Augustine Tribune, ran an article I had written titled “Country Store.”
During the narrative of extolling the pleasures of running a country store, I
had said “…and watching Charlie Mills, the postman for Route 2, stuffing twelve
mailboxes with incoming mail for the Fords Corner locals.”
On a Saturday afternoon four weeks after that article appeared in the Tribune I
received a telephone call from a lady that lived in Woodville, Texas, fifty
miles south of San Augustine.
Her voice revealed time had slowly transferred outer beauty to inner beauty. She
said, “Mr. Noble, I read your column every week. I enjoy them so much. Now, you
keep on writing them. But I have another reason for calling.”
After a pause I
said, “What reason is that?”
She replied, “Mr. Noble, you mentioned Charlie Mills in an article lately. When
I was a little girl in the 1930s, we lived in the west side of Sabine County in
the community of Geneva. One day at school a lady came to our room and gave a
talk about how important it was to take care of, and keep our teeth. I decided I
was going to take care of mine, but I didn’t have a toothbrush. I picked cotton
and earned a quarter to buy a toothbrush. But we lived down a dirt road a mile
from our mailbox and twelve miles from town. I didn’t have any way to buy a
toothbrush.”
A slight pause, then she asked, “Mr. Noble, did you know Charlie Mills?”
“Yes ma’am, I did.”
“Did you know he helped people besides delivering the mail?”
“No ma’am, I didn’t.”
“Well, Charlie Mills bought things for people and delivered them with the mail.
I gave that quarter to him, and the next day when I went to the mailbox there
was my toothbrush.”
After another pause she said, “And you know what, Mr. Noble?”
“What?”
“I’m eighty and still have my teeth!”
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