Aaron Gets Home #T

Did I ever tell you how Aaron Moss make his trip to Virginia after I tell him "no"?  Waal, I bleeve I tell you Moss was some mad when he left here.  I tell him check for trains, 'n I learn much later thet he drive on in to Lamar to do jest thet.  He park his Ford by the depot, 'n is walkin' over to the agent when he run inta Estel Estep.  Then I get the story from Estel when I take Grace over to town to get some yard goods, 'n "notions," as she call 'em.

"Hidy, Uncle Jep!" say Estel as I was astandin' afront th' Mercantile.  I am surely glad to run into you, on account I been needin' to see you.  Not on'y do I have a tale to tell, I have a package for you under the back seat the car.  Can we walk on over and get hit?  There, the Reo, just yonder."  He points.

"Sure, Estel, I'll walk with ya.  Needin' sump'n ta pass the time.  How you?  Marcy?"

"Oh, just swell, Uncle.  We come in from McClave this mornin', Marcy doin' some shoppin'.  You know how it is with the ladies.  Now see, it was the middle July when I run inta Aaron.  He tell me his daddy die, 'n he wantin' to get home.  "Wouldn' be a chance you could drive me over to Clinchport, would there?"  he says.  "I'd pay fer the gas and th' eats on the road."

Well, now.  Marcy had jes' been on me about she wantin' to see her mama, an' I been a draggin' my feet.  Opportunity often knock on'y one time.  I say, "Why, Aaron, I am glad you ask.  Marcy 'n me would be glad to carry you over to Clinchport.  What say we leave, five of a mornin'?"

"I spare you the details, but we got our campin' gear together, tie four spare tires to the top, 'n take off for the hills.  It warn't twel we were on the road thet Aaron start in on you.  'Dod busted, dad blasted, ding blamed. . . 'n on and on. . .  cheapskate, miserable ol' Coot."  Man, you musta really rub his fur the wrong way!"

"Waal." says I, "if you spend long enough time to get him to Virginny and back, then there is nothin' I could tell you thet you don't already know."  Estel roared with laughter.

Estel continue with his report.  "So we get to the hills, Aaron look up his sister, 'n she's no spring chicken.  Did Aaron tell you his pa was over a hunnert when he die?  Yep, had ta be, too, on account Mavis gotta be more'n eighty.  Well, they two 'n 'm gonna take care they pa's bidness, 'n we will pick the old man up on Monday-- four days down the road.

"Then as we are standin' aside the car sayin' our farewells to Mavis, she hand a package to Aaron and say, 'Please to take this to Jep Miller, Brother.  There are some little things there for him, and for Grace, too.'  'Har!' snort Aaron.  'Take it with ya when ya die, 'n give it to him in Hell!'  He drop the package on the ground, scoot around and get in the car.

Long story short, I pick up the package an' sneak it into a spare tire, then later when we a campin' the night, I hid hit under the back seat.  Here, I'll get it for ya."

"Waal, I thank ya most kindly, Estel.  I'll let Mavis know we got hit.  Most likely Grace is done shoppin' by now, 'n here come Marcy, too."  Tip my hat.  "Howdy, Ma'am.  Fine day, idn't hit?

"Oh, by the by, Estel, did Aaron ever thank you fer the trip?"

"He did, Uncle.  Paid all the expenses, too, and give me a exter five dollar bill when I drop him ta home."

© 2014 David W. Lacy 37

Hot Day, Hothead, and Hay #T

Did I ever tell you about the time I get crossways of ol' Aaron Moss? You know Aaron.  Crankiest ol' man ever walk the earth.  You think I'm cranky?  Spend a day with ol' Moss.  No, spend five minutes with him.

Now I know Aaron since the bear come over the mountain.  He 'n his daddy live over on the Clinch when I was a kid.  Waal, Aaron come on out West along a th' rest a us when we all come out here in oh-three.  He settle over atween Bristol and Granada, do all right.  Jes' on'y hisself, ya know, ol' hard head bachelor.  Never marry, luckier the women, I say.

Anyway, one miserable hot summer day, '27 I think hit was, maybe '28, me a mowin' hay on Mark's place.  I have thet mower I get from Ames over to Towner.  You remember Ames?  Nah, not Robert, thet's not hit.  What was his name?  Sorta uncommon name, hit were.  Oh, yes.  Oren.  Oren Ames, married Mildred Tuttle fum over to Lamar, y'know.  Her daddy was the Express agent over there.  So I have this team, Clyde and Aubrey, a pullin' 'n a ring come loose on the doubletree.  Din't break off, y'know, but needin' attention afore it does.

So I'ma sittin' there on a stump, a bindin' and a twistin' some hay warr around the thang, when this rattledy ol' T-model drive up 'n stop.  I first din't re-cognize thet Ford, then ol' Moss, he get out, amble over where I'ma workin', asnappin' his galluses 'n atwirlin' thet toothpick he allus have atween his teeth.

"Hey, Miller!" he say.  "I see ya broke down agin, allus sump'n breakin' on account a ya too cheap ta buy new.  All a time buyin' someone else's headaches."

"And a good day to you, too, Moss.  Whut kin I do fer ya?"  See, I know he din't come all th' way out here fer nothin'.

"I get right to the p'int.  Too hot ta stand here ajawin'.  I want you ta keer me back to Virginny.  I jes' get word my pa die.  Hunnert two year ol', he were.  I need to get back 'n settle up his affairs, see he had anythin' worth savin'."

"I am sorry," says I, "for the loss a yer pa.  But, no, I cannot take you back there.  Aside fum my work and responsibilities, I hev no car, on'y thet ol' double T truck."

"No, no! No is not a cherce.  We take my car, a course."  I look at thet flivver, 'n not a recent one, either.  Prolly twelve year ol' if it's a day.

"I said 'No', Aaron.  Now run on into Lamar an' check about train schedules.  You kin get to Kingsport on the train."

Waal, Moss allus did hev a short fuse.  Hoppin' mad?  I guess not!  I thought he die on th' spot, a jumpin' up 'n down, beatin' his arms in th' air, a cussin' 'n a stompin'.  Call me ever'thin' but a gentleman, 'n as he get to his car, he turn back and holler, "I'll get ya fer this, Miller.  Jes' you wait 'n see.  You'll be sorry!"

He jerk the crank, jump in an' putt on down the road.  I prolly shoulda been a little skeered.

© 2014 David W. Lacy 36

Wired!

Wherein the lady's purchases makes work for her man.  Electrifying!

The second day at the sawmill left me to pull off and stack by myself, because Red Hurd had a prior commitment.  But Grandpa was there, brighter than a penny and chirkier than Pollyanna.  "Waal," he enthused, "Old Sol'll be up in a minute.  God has started His day; we best be gettin' ours started."

"Grandpa, your enthusiasm is less contagious than it is irritating at this hour."

"Lad, you are in for a miserable and probably difficult life, you don't re-adjust your attitude."

"Aw," I replied, "you know I'm only funning with you."

"Yeah, I know.  But I'm tellin' the truth.  Come on, let's fire up that mill."

It was a smooth morning of good work, even if we were short-handed.  We finished the last log just before eleven o'clock.  We all sat down by the pump, had us each a long draught of cool water.  Uncle Jep said, "Sam, you din't finish tellin' whut Mary and Margaret bought over to Lamar thet day."  Grandpa and I both near fainted, we were so taken aback.  Could this be, that Jep Miller was asking someone else to spin a yarn?  Seems it was, for he said, "Go on, now, Sam.  We been waitin' since yestiddy to get the wherefores of your tale."

"Waal, I told you the womenfolk got in the truck, and Mary tells me to drive on over to the loading dock at the Mercantile.  So I did it.  There was a stack of boxes yea high waitin' for us.  Mark Todd was standing there with the lading recipe for me to sign.  The first box warn't too heavy, maybe twenty, twenty-five pound.  The next two were real light.  Now what could that be?  Those women haven't been hornswoggled into buying two boxes of air, have they?  The next five boxes were middlin' to heavy, like machinery, I'd say.

Waal, there's nothin' for it but that I tell you what those gals had done.  The first box was dry goods and notions, enough material, threads and ribbons to keep their sewing projects going for who knows how long.  The two "airy" boxes, no, not air, but foolishments, nevertheless, but don't ye ever tell Mary or Margaret I said that.  Hats.  They each bought a new hat.  Why, what is the world comin' to, woman spend a man's hard-earned cash on such frivolous things."

"Where you been, Sam?" asked Uncle Jep.  "Women been purely attracted to folderol since Rachel put Laban's idols in her kip.  But get on with it.  Whut was in the heavy boxes?"

"That is the part you won't believe.  Now Mary went and bought a new Zenith Farm Radio, Tombstone model.  Said she couldn' afford to pass it up, as they was offerin' a Wincharger* for only fifteen dollars with purchase of the radio."

"So how much did it cost you for the radio and all?"  I in my impertinence interjected.

"I'm comin' to that," Grandpa growls.  "I swan, this younger generation have no patience at all."  Anyway, the radio was thirty dollars.  I mean, do you know how long it takes a man to accumulate thirty dollars?  Then there was the fifteen for the charger.  And then, then you have to have warr, and staples, and insulators and all thet electrical mumbo jumbo.  And it were all in there, too, because that salesman really knew what he was doin'.  "How far," he said, "is it from the house to the toolshed?"

"Oh," Mary replied, "see that lamppost on the other side the street, down there in front of Mode o' Day?  About that far."

"Good, then.  You'll need about 130 feet of wire.  I'll give you 150, anything longer than five feet you don't need, we'll refund.  Six insulators, box of staples.  You are all set to go then.  Sam will get a kick out of this."

"Well, of course I growled some," continued Grandpa, "like what in the name of Sam Hill do we need with a radio?"  Well, she told me, and I've said no more about it.  Set to work and installed the little tower on top the tool shed, ran the wire.  Neat job I did, too.  Charger not only take care of the battery for the radio, I hung a old headlight from that Essex we dumped by the creek.  Put 'er up right there in the kitchen.  Why, it is just like daylight there in the kitchen of an evenin'.  Radio reception?  You would not believe the places we can listen to after the sun goes down, and Mary so enjoys the foolishments that are on that thing of an afternoon.  Well, a man shouldn't deprive his lady person of a few little pleasures in life.  Lord knows she works her fingers to the bone around the place."

*Many companies made wind chargers for battery operated electrical equipment on the farm in the day prior to rural electrification.  Wincharger Corporation of Sioux City, Iowa was one of the premier manufacturers of wind powered chargers.  In 1934, executives of the Zenith Radio Corporation made a visit to the factory, placed an order for 50,000 units and took 51% interest in the company.  

© 2014 David W. Lacy

Making Boards

Wherein Grandpa assumes the role of storyteller.  The Old Uncle is less than thrilled.

Grandpa and Red pulled up in Red's red International as I was toting the last two pails of milk from the barn to the separator in the cellar.  Aunt Grace was turning out the last of the previous load as I poured the next bucket in.

Uncle Jep had let the cows out the stanchions and opened the gate to the east pasture.  He and I strolled over to the saw where Grandpa was checking the belts and levers.  "'Bout time you got around.  Been sleepin' in?"

I glanced to the east and saw that the sun was an exact semi-circle on the edge of the earth, knew it was just a smidge before five-thirty.  How many cows you milked this morning?" I asked.

"You may never live long enough to milk as many cows as I have.  You are a bit impertinent, talking to your grandfather like that.  I done been over to Red's this morning, and we already reconnected his windmill shaft where the bolt broke last night.  Enough sass.  Let's get to work."

I won't bore you with the details.  Grandpa is a cracker-jack sawyer.  We all buck the logs onto the carriage, Grandpa and Uncle turn and set them, then Grandpa grabs his levers and BUZZ-ZZZ.  Red and I carry off and stack the boards.

Eleven o'clock Aunt Grace bustles down to the sawmill.  "All y'all on up to the kitchen, now.  Vittles on the table."  I hit the kill switch on the engine, and we all trudged up to the house  where we washed up at the tub by the back door.  The five of us settled in at the table and relished Aunt Grace's scrumptious meatloaf with mashed taters and gravy, green beans she had picked from the garden just yesterday.  Pie, of course.  Cherry this time.

"Did I ever tell you about the time Mary's mother, Margaret came out here and stayed and stayed?" Grandpa asked as we scooted back to relax a few minutes before we went back to work.

"You mean the time you messed with her shoes, 'n then she went home on account a Marvin broke his foot?"  Uncle Jep, of course.  "Man, that woman is a stayer, fer sure.  I recollect. . ."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Jeptha Miller.  You jump in and steal someone else's story.  And no, I'ma not talkin' about shoes.  Mary says to me one evening, "Mama and I are going into Lamar tomorrow.  I reckon that Double A truck will haul the three of us."

So I says, says I, "Then you and your mama are expecting me to drive you into town."

"Yes, " and she blew out the lamp.  Well, I lyin' there thinkin' all the things I had planned for tomorrow gonna have to move to another day, 'cause there is no arguin' with those two when they have made up their minds.

Bright clear morning, not going to be too hot, probably won't get much over ninety.  We drove on over to Lamar, and I am going right down Main Street.  When we get to Olive, Mary says, "You just pull over here and let us out.  Pick us up right here in two hours.  That's not two hours and ten minutes.  Hear?  And go on and do what old men do while hanging around town.  And don't go over to the pool hall, either."

"Well, she knew full well I'd go over to the pool hall.  Now I hadn't shot any pool in a coon's age, but I hadn't lost the touch, either."

Uncle Jep's mill been plugged long as he can stand, so he pipes up and says, "Didja whup up on ol' Harley Dice?  Man, he needin' his ears pinned back."

"Matter of fact," says Grandpa, "I did give him a couple games of eight ball.  Cleaned his clock, too."

"Take any of his money?" asked Red.

"Six, eight dollars," replied Grandpa.  "It was just for fun, doncha know.  Well, I am back at Main and Olive right on the dot.  Those two ladies just rounding the corner from the Mercantile.

They get in the truck and Mary says, "Just drive on around back to the loading dock at the Mercantile."

"There's words to strike fear into a man's heart, believe me.  And oh, my, in this case it were justified fear.  But story time is over for now.  We gotta get back on the saw.  Still have logs begging to be sliced."

© 2014 David W. Lacy