I had a letter from Donna (Harris) Wright not long ago, where she reminded me that kids in our neighborhood used to tease one another about overeating by saying, “If you keep on eatin,’ you’ll be as big as Mo Arthur!” That would have been big, indeed.
Moses “Mo” Arthur was a prodigiously large man in every way. Physically, I doubt if there was an ounce of lean on him. Moreover, he was tall as well as obese, with a voice that boomed across our lands. In the River days, he lived on the farm next to ours, that we bought in 1957 when his wife, Lizzie, died and he went to live with a daughter in northern Virginia.
He loved all food in all its aspects. He could make your mouth water just talking about it. Earl said he had been that way since childhood. At home he would eat two or three platefuls at dinner, then top it off by filling his plate with molasses and sopping it up with bread.
I never observed Mo at his meals, except at family reunions where he sort of “grazed” from table to table. My unforgettable memory of his appetite occurred one day when we arrived together in Bedford, I having been a passenger on the back of his pick-up. The other riders had gone on ahead.
Mo and I walked up Main Street from the old Gulf station where he had been talking to the owners while purchasing two large Hershey bars. He offered me one, but I wasn’t up to that much chocolate and almonds that early. When we turned the corner at Bridge Street, he finished his and began munching on the one offered me.
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