Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Weldon

The other day someone had me thinking of my first cousin, Weldon. When we lived at the old wood frame house underneath the big magnolia tree on the dirt road where the smoke and sulfur from hell came out from the cracks in the road (previous story), Wayne was carrying Weldon for a ride on the bike. The only place to ride was on the dirt road because the roots of the magnolia were huge and out of the ground and covered most of the yard. Safety was not an issue because most of the three people per day that used the road came by at a snails pace, and were always on the lookout for an excuse to stop and talk. The bike had no fenders, the seat had no padding, and no chain guard. Wayne was 8 and standing up pedalling and Weldon was 3 and sitting on the seat holding on. It was a lot of work for Wayne to pedal in the soft dirt and he was swinging back and forth. Weldon was holding on as best he could when his big toe got caught between the chain and chain sprocket.
Screamed so loud he broke blood vessels in his cheeks. No one knew what to do. Wayne was the oldest, but he could not let go of the bike, Weldon was stuck on the seat, if he moved his toe probably would fall off, Benny, Frankie, and I were a good ways off. Barbara was in the house and heard the screams and came running, with aunt Betty and mama a few feet behind. Everyone was excited and moving around all crazy like, but finally someone got a pair of pliers and loosened the nut of the wheel and moved it forward. When his toe came loose Weldon jumped down and ran like crazy because he knew that the kerosene treatment was next. Whatever happened to you , the treatment was to pour kerosene on the cut. I guess it worked because none of us ever had a wound to get infected.
Now Frankie Joe was Weldon's older brother and was a mischievous little fellow that would play a trick on you if you weren't paying attention. One Christmas at Daddy Frank's house over by Harvey Palmer's place it was almost dark and every one of the many grandchildren were shooting fireworks and bottle rockets. It was not enough excitement for Frankie that he accidentally set off his bag of fireworks in his back pocket and scared the hell out of everybody, he found an empty gas can. Well, this looked like his kind of fun. Let me drop a lighted match into this container and see what happens. How did that work out?
The can exploded like a mortor round and landed on the other side of the house, Frankie's hair and eye brows were gone, his face was a bright red and I think he had one of those brown spots in his pants also. Today he uses the diesel pump.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Lamentations

Going down the road, looking like a fat toad, toting a heavy load of moon pies that finally settled in my stomach, just above my thighs. Ah, for the days of my youth, when I had no tail, now I am afraid of the scale. Then I carried rocks in my pocket to keep the wind from making me sail, now my wind could fill a sail.
Exercise is hard, that is why I am a tub of lard. Tomorrow is another day, tonight I will have another chip by Lay. My willpower is shot, all I do is eat a lot. Take heart, if it will last, when I reach eighty, I will have a blast. My taste buds will be gone, and I will journey back to the bone. Back to the rocks in my pocket, maybe one in my locket. But my knees, my knees, my knees, will say please, please, please, you ruined us by carrying all that food, now we are really in a bad mood. So I will stay out of the wind, so my knees won't have to bend.
Oh well, here we go again, what the hell, one more pie for old times sake, maybe even a piece of chocolate cake. Try as I might, I want to eat everything in sight. My, my, my look at that red velvet cake, the breath from me it does take. Try, try, try to fight the temptation, it is so hard to only eat in moderation. The day is short, so I will have another snort, of rye, and say bye, bye, bye.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

49 Chevy step side

Every now and then, we would pile into the back of grandpa's dark green 49 Chevrolet step side pick up and head off to grannie's sister, Dora Marshall, who lived in Gordon, Alabama. This particular trip was known to us a few days in advance and Wayne, Benny, and I had time to gather up a few paper sacks and fill them with dirt. The truck was a work truck and probably had never seen a wash job, had tools and hay wire and peanuts that had been pulled up and thrown in the back, to show the neighbors how good the crop was. We had to push everything to the side and pile in. I don't know why grannie did not go, but daddy and grandpa were in the front. To go from McKay's store to Ashford, we had to go by Balkum Church and come out at Green Front on the Columbia Hwy. Grandpa's top speed was 25 and even though he had a three speed on the column, he would wind it out in low and go straight to high, causing the truck to lurch and jump until he could build up enough speed to handle the shift. He did not want to wear out 2nd gear and save gas by not using it. When he went by a field he would slow down so he could get a good look and comment on how straight the rows were, how much fertilizer was needed, and why didn't they keep the weeds pulled. A trip that should have taken 45 minutes, would take 2 hours. We did not care, when no cars were behind us we would throw the paper bags of dirt in the air and they would land on the hard top and explode and look like a mushroom cloud. We could have gone through Dothan, but there was no traffic circle and going through the middle of town would have taken even longer. For those of you who don't know, Gordon is below Ashford.
By the time we got there we were ready to get out. Just about the time he stopped, we bailed out and hit the dirt running. My third cousin Crissie and one of her friends(prettiest little girl I had ever seen) were outside and looked startled to see us. We played chase and hide and seek for most of the afternoon. The porch on the house was higher than our heads, with wooden steps that reached to the sky. Some of us hid under the porch, but since it was so open we would have to race to base to keep from being tagged it. Crissie had a big slide that we took turns on. Some one suggested using wax paper to slide on and it will make you speed up on the way down. By the time we left to go home it was almost dark, so we made it back pretty quick.
Years later when I met Sheila and we had dated for a while I carried her to meet grandpa and grannie. If you never knew Guy Carlile, he was a talker and asked one question after another. Sheila was always called Girl, by him. Girl, do you know Homer Aman from Ashford? Yes sir. Girl, do you know Dora Marshall? Yes sir I am friends with her grand daughter. Girl was an instant hit. Sheila told of a day when she was a child in the first grade, that she was spending the weekend with Crissie. Crissie was big for her age and mean as a snake. She had all the boys in Harmon School afraid of her. When they saw a green chevrolet truck drive up and three boys jump out, Crissie told Sheila, Those boys are mean. If she said those boys were mean, Sheila knew she was in trouble, but said that she had a good time playing hide and seek , tag, and sliding down the slide on wax paper. We looked at each other and started laughing. It was weird to find out that we had played together all those years ago. On the 23rd of this month we will have been married for 38 years.