TRIBUTE TO BUCK Page 7 of 11
Dad loved our Mother and he loved his children. After Mom�s death he would spend time each day reading the Bible and marking favorite passages to reassure himself for what was to come. He believed in maintaining respect for one�s name, the sanctity of marriage and the harbor of love in a family. The last time we saw him, his two favorite hymns were sung at his request: one a question � �Will The Circle Be Unbroken?� and the other a comfort��Amazing Grace.�
Just ten miles north LaVielle Mine on Highway 21, along the turn off road to Big River, past rows of ancient cedars my Dad planted, the land he worked and loved is still there. Along this road, on a corner of the old homeplace farm, is the last home our parents shared, the cottage where the two old men died. The large granite family marker he helped place is still out there too. Like a lonely sentinel, the monolith stands on a hill next to the road, a tribute for all seasons in reverence to the old ones.
There is a mine on this, the family�s little farm too. It too was an open pit mine, once quite active yields of lead and barite.
Periodically, the monolith, the memories and the mine still call be back from my suburban mind � set to a simpler way and familiar fields and woods I used to know. �Revenez encore a La Vielle Mine.� Come back again to the Old Mine. And I do.
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