Scrambled Egg

The Scrambled Egg Sandwich
By: Charles W. Bowers - December 1997

Life was truly simpler then. The White Rocking Chair reminds me of the many summer days spent with my Grandpa Sizemore. He worked in the tipple of the coal mine at the head of Asco hollow near Davy, McDowell County, West Virginia. Grandpa Sizemore loaded that black gold onto N&W Railroad cars every working day. He would come home covered from head to toe with black coal dust and would take a bath in the galvanized bathtub in the kitchen using hot water supplied by Granny Sizemore from her majestic wood stove. Then he would put on clean clothes and sit on the front porch in his rocking chair and chew Beechnut Tobacco, read the Bible, and talk to everybody who passed by each lazy summer afternoon.

The cousins and I would sit near him in the big porch swing and watch and listen. Watching, listening and learning as life passed by was important work. Grandpa Sizemore had such a gentle way with people and no matter what “stuff” life brought along, he always had something good and kind to say to anyone who happened by. And there were always offerings from the current bounty from his many vegetable gardens or a few warm eggs from the sitting hens nesting in the chicken coop.

Some memories just stick with you for life. There is nothing that can compare to pushing the hen over to grab her newest offering and cooking it in an iron skillet for an afternoon scrambled egg and mustard on white bread sandwich. Life just doesn’t get any better than that scrambled egg sandwich. I’m so thankful for the many summer days I passed time with Grandpa and Granny Sizemore. The lessons were numerous and the memories are precious.

I sincerely wish you and your loved ones treasured experiences that you will remember for a lifetime. May you always create memories as exciting and wonderful as a summer’s afternoon scrambled egg sandwich.

Grandpa Sizemore’s rocking chair.