WOODROW: HIS LIFE AND TIMES

​Woodrow died during the third week of October, 2019. Some of my followers on Facebook had been able to keep up with his life and times, and they and I miss him greatly. I have decided that it is time for a retrospective look at the “Mayor of Sawyerville.” 

When I first became aware of Woodrow he was tethered to a shed on the south side of the old main road through Sawyerville that ran by the railroad. That was before even my time: by the time I was born the main road had moved a good city block south, where it is now.

When I was a child my Cud’n Iddie lived in a 2-story house on this location along with her daughter Miss Louise. (Don’t ask why one was Cud’n and one was Miss. Answer lost in time.) 

​Iddie, Martha Ann May, was the 2d wife of my grandfather’s brother Albert Judson May, Uncle Jud. She was a widowed Martin with 4 childrena and he was a widower with 4 May children and one of those Martins later married one of those Mays, which can look kind of weird on a genealogical chart. Since I was kin to both the old Martin family and the May family, relationships were complicated. Iddie’s house burned in 1962. I was home and managed to get over there in time to watch it burn. No one was injured, the Heartsills not being at home.

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Cud’n Iddie died in 1954 at the age of 95, her funeral conducted from her home followed by procession by car a mile and a half west to Hollow Square Cemetery. I remember the day vividly, for my dog Tippy, seeing the family car progressing at a slow enough pace so that he could keep up, ran all the way alongside the car. I waited in the car with him wile Iddie was being interred

But I digress. You’ll catch me doing that again.

Woodrow was owned by a Black couple who lived in a brick house built by M.T. Martin (one of Iddie Martin May’s sons) for his hoped-for bride my Aunt Mamie May that was immediately east of Iddie’s house. Aunt Mamie declined M.T.’s offer, and he later married Miss Bill. After M.T. died and Miss Bil moved to Greensboro, my Uncle Murray Martin bought the brick house for his family. Unclie Muray was actually a cousin (2 different lines) on the May side, but he married my mother’s middle sister, hence uncle. Anyway, the couple who ended up with the house established a baseball diamond to the east of Woodrow’s shack for the use of the neighborhood youth, and at times Woodrow would be staked out on the field to keep the grass gnawed down.
​After the couple died, Woodrow remained at his house. He was attended by a young man who I believe was a grandson of the couple, who checked on him and made sure he had plenty of water. Goats need lots of water. They get some from the grass and leaves but not enough.

​Goats, especially male goats, don’t like to be tethered, and they don’t like to be solitary life. Before long Woodrow began to untether himself and wander out to Downtown Sawyerville, where the action (such as is) is. He liked to hang around the derelict brick store, the grass alongside provided forage. That store too had been bought by Uncle Murray from M.T., before his death.  Woodrow was also particularly fond of hannging out in fron of the post office, sometimes startling unsuspecting custmers. 

Usually he’d leave the rope at home, but if it had been more securely fastened about his neck he’d simply undo the other end and drag the rope with him.

​Woodrow was well-liked by many other than me in Sawyerville. One farmer often dropped off corn stlks during corn season, much appreciated. Over time I noticed that often cars would stop and someone would get out and stroke Wodrow between his horms. Later I ​

heard that this was thought to bring god fortune to those on the way to the slot machines at the old Greenetrack near Eutaw or the casinos in Philadelphia, MS.

Those horns certainly did look formidable, and it is easy enough to understand why some customers at the post office found them intimidating. Oh, I was cautious in my early relationship with him: the consequences of misreading the signs could be serious. But over time I learned that he was as friendly as any goat can be, and they can be friendly. I began to rely more on proximity than the zoom lens when taking photographs.  

Any animal (including me) can develop itches in hard-to-reach places, and Woodrow found the light pole handy for scratching his forehead. Dead branches would work too. 

He was good of resting just to the west of the outdoor mailbox. He did like to be close to the action. The dusty road also served him well. Also good for itches.

I was not the only one to refer to this as the Mayor of Sawyerville, for certainly he was our most prominent citizen for several years. Here he is on November 12, 1916, leading the Sawyerville Veterans and Senior Citizens Appreciation Day Parade with his good friend Calamity.  

It was Calamity who told me of Woodrow’s death last October. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of years but I had been happy knowing  

that he was enjoying life ruling that herd out in country. And with those horns, he’d certainly be King!

I miss him. I’m glad he and I shared some time together as we overlapped in our lives in Sawyerville.

But as the poet says, “at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.” That chariot arrives for goats as well. When it comes for me, it would delight me if Woodrow is up front pulling.