Mr. Higginbotham’s Banjo

Mr. Higginbotham had gone to the Town of Kilmichael, Mississippi on a Saturday morning to pick up supplies he needed on his farm.

He got his supplies early and headed home. The weather was hot and dry. The dirt road was dusty. Mr. Higginbotham was thinking about that square dance he and others of the small string band would be playing for that night. He loved that banjo picking and the diversion it afforded. It would be so nice to get off the hot, dry road and get cleaned up and over to that dance.

Mr. Higginbotham noticed a wagon and team that were coming toward him, travelling to Kilmichael, at a faster clip than was usual. The man pulled up beside Mr. Higginbotham and yelled excitedly, “Mr. Higginbotham, your house has burned to the ground.”

Mr. Higginbotham didn’t inquire as to the safety of his wife nor his children. Mr. Higginbotham earnestly blurted out, “Did my banjo get burned up?!”

This story was written as told to me by my Dad and others through the years.

Roy C. Watson, September 5, 1993, Jackson, Mississippi.