| By Bob Weaver
There will be a few people around Calhoun who will remember little
Bobby Snider, who
left these environs at age 14 for the dry and hot climate of Arizona,
later to settle in
Billings, Montana. In those slow and lazy days of the 1950's, we would
walk across
the old steel-girded Grantsville bridge on long lunch hours at Calhoun
County High
School to meander the busy streets of downtown Grantsville.
Dr. Bob Snider and Ila Grey Snider of Grantsville
Sometimes we would get those ten cent hot dogs and always dropped by
the
Kanawha Theater on Saturday for the cowboy matinee and the
cliff-hanging fifteen
minute serials.
We talked about the tragic death of Butch Strader, a member of our 5th
grade class at
Grantsville Grade School. We sat in the alphabetical clump. Butch, a
bright and
handsome kid ran out on High Street, chasing a volleyball to be struck
and killed by a
car. Some fifty years later it is Bob's turn to go on. His cousin,
Terry Harris, said his
dad and grandfather both died about age 60. Bob was in the swimming
pool, playing
with his kids and grand kids when he went on.
More often than not he wanted to drop by the old Boling Clinic
building to talk with the
office help, fascinated with the art of healing. Much like our
classmate Vearl Haynes
(who wanted to be a forest ranger), Bob had early visions of becoming
a physician. He
told me on his last visit to Sunny Cal, when he and his wife got off
the plane at the
Billings, Montana airport, "This was where we wanted to spend the rest
of our days."
He did, one of thousands of Calhoun kids who went across America to
plant roots and
contribute much to the quality of life in their communities.
Fully alive people like Bob Snider are liberated by self acceptance to
be
authentic and real. They are further
liberated to accomplish much in
their
lifes journey, joyful, happy and free.
Those school day kids in Calhoun County from
the 40's and 50's were
connected
with emotional umbilical chords. While time
and place has created
gaps, the
friendships and memories have remained in
tact.
Many of the kids were educated together
through the twelve grades,
one day at a
time. Bobby Snider was one of those people
for me. We brushed
shoulders, grew a
few feet and talked, talked and talked until
he moved from Sunny Cal
with his
parents when he was 14. I was sad when he
moved away.
He came back three or four years ago to
spread his mom's ashes on
Sunny Cal sod
and visit his ancestral roots. He paid a
visit down on Rowels Run to his
granddaddy
George Richard's old place and the Cooper
Cemetery where some of his
mom's
folks are buried. We talked a lot about
writing and working on a book.
He was a reader of The Hur Herald. "Just like
to keep up," he said. He
wanted to
go over to Ravenswood to visit Bill Barnes
for a while. Bill, also a
physician, died
shortly thereafter, as did our other school
days pal Lewis "Buck" Ferrell,
who was
also a doctor, the divine type.
Often sitting in the room where the Calhoun
County Board of Education
meets, I
think of them. We all spent three years in
that room with the late
Thelma Stump,
grades one through three. I question if that
closeness exists in our
schools today.
Maybe there were fewer distractions. We had
each other.
The foible of growing older is watching your
friends depart, provided
you do not go
before them. But it does allow time to say
good-bye and remember them
as
precious gifts. Dr. Bob Snider gave more than
he ever received, a
diamond to
Billings, Montana and a sparkling memory of
childhood days in Sunny
Cal.
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