Where I grew up is a small town in the Pennsylvania mountains.And the men rise early in the morning,
And walk to the great black holes in the ground,
And walk to the huge gray dust bins,
And fire the round kilns that roast the golden brown clay blocks,
And walk home at night, tired from a hard day's work.
This is where I grew up.
The trucks carrying in the black shiny coal,
The trembling of the shaker that empties the railroad cars,
The scurrying of the mine cars carting the black gold to the surface,
The screeching and hissing of the trains hauling the coal away,
All became daily routine to me.
And the coal went to the big round kilns,
And the men shoveled and heaped as the temperature rose,
And the ovens cooled as the fires died,
And the fans hummed that cooled the ovens,
And the men loaded the bricks in railroad cars that screeched and hissed as they left town.
This happened daily where I grew up.
Then the signal of Sunday morning was heard.
People streamed to the small brick church in the center of town.
People sang hymns and heard the pastor pray.
People paraded home with a unique scent of dinner as they passed each house.
And the men rested after the Sunday meal, preparing for the week ahead.
And children played as the dogs barked joyfully at their heels,
And the sun went down behind the hills ending another week in the town where I grew up.
Poem by Wilbur Calvin Shirey
Tribute to Bigler, Pennsylvania
Written while a sophomore at
Indiana University of Pennsylvania
1960-61
