Ray 8

But he didn't call. After three full days, I knew Roy Blackmon was not going to contact me. And I didn't even get a number for him when I was at his house. I just assumed, thinking for sure he would call that very day, but he didn't. What to do?

I decided to make a trip to Louisville and Noxapater. I have kinfolk over there and it is prime timber/pulpwood territory. In the past, there were pulpwood trucks all over Winston and Neshoba Counties. A few weeks back, I had called my Uncle Paul in Noxapater and asked him to be on the lookout for a truck. He spread the word, had one guy working on it, and had a lead on a truck. I was still counting on a twofer. Find a truck, find Ray.

So I left out Wednesday morning. On the way, a memory surfaced of when I used to hang out at the wood yard in Terry and take pictures. One of the pulpwooders mentioned a yard in or near Brandon that had a lot of old, raggedy trucks rolling in and out everyday. I pulled over on the side of the road on Highway 407 just outside of French Camp, and did a Google search for the Chamber of Commerce in Brandon, Mississippi. I found a number and called. From the Chamber of Commerce, I secured numbers for wood yards and timber companies all over central and south Mississippi, one even in Louisiana. I called Rollins Pulpwood and Timber Co., Donald Timber, Soterra Timber, Plumb Creek Timber, Scott Penn, Armstrong Timber, Forrest South, and a bunch more. Those are just the ones I still have notes on. 

I phoned them all. After the last call, I knew one thing for a fact: no one buys short wood anymore. No one. That means my search for Ray had hit a dead end. I had counted on Ezell Lowery being right that somebody out there still bought it and that is where I would find Ray. Now, I didn't know what the next move should be. This made me feel really sad, despondent even, and I teared up as I drove on slowly. Not only did no one buy short wood, but none of the wood yards I spoke with had a clue where to find an old fashioned pulpwood truck. "They've all been scraped," I was told over and over. 

But instead of scrapping my trip to Louisville, I decided to call a cousin of mine, Elizabeth Ann Wyatt, and maybe take her to lunch. She lives in Louisville, and I had been wanting to spend some time with her since Mom passed. I knew she was upset at Mom's death, and I sensed she needed some attention.

I made contact with Elizabeth Ann and we made plans for lunch. When I arrived at her house, I met her husband for the first time. He was outside working on some stuff. I shared with him my search for a truck and he told me what I already knew. They used to be all over the place around here. He also showed me a stump in their yard and said the people who cut and hauled off the tree had one, a ragged one ton! He vowed it was true and said he would be on the lookout for it or another one. I also asked him if he knew anybody named Ray Azal. He didn't but vowed to look for him also.

Elizabeth and I had a nice lunch at Lake Tiak O Kahta (pronounced tee uh katuh). After I took her home, I drove down to Noxapater and stopped at D & D Tire where two of my cousins work. We talked about pulpwood trucks and Ray Azal. They didn't know Ray nor where any trucks were. John Walter Darby broke my heart when he told me that he was instrumental in cleaning out that part of the country when he bought and sold for scrap dozens of them after steel prices went through the roof.

I left the tire place and drove to Aunt Mary's. Uncle Paul was there, and I got to ask him directly about the lead he had on a truck. He told me the guy he had on the lookout for one had found one and got in the truck while the owner drove it. He said it was smoking really bad and that just as they pulled back into the owner's yard, the truck engine exploded (his word, "exploded"). Awe shucks. "But he's still looking," Uncle Paul told me, and if anyone can find one he can. I asked about Ray whom he had never heard of, and I asked him to set his truck-searcher on Ray's trail too.

Then I left and drove around in the country side some. I went east out of Noxapter onto a road I had never been on before A few miles out there I came upon a Cowboy Baptist Church. That was a first for me. I drove all the way until the road ran into Highway 19. The drive was enjoyable, but it failed to produce on pulpwood trucks, so I turned around and headed home with my head and heart slightly bowed.