Christmas in the Holler

Christmas Eve Service was always wonderful at the Booger Holler Holiness Church. Sister Hazel Budder, the wife of Pastor Woodrow Budder was in charge of the choir an' them folks practiced since summer on the songs they sang on Christmas Eve. The Church was decorated just right an' aromatic cedar trees were trimmed an' lighted to get everyone in the mood.

Brother Woodrow reminded folks the reason for the season in a short message of 'bout five minutes at the end of the singin'. Ms. Hazel invited Uncle Billy Gilbert to come over to her house for Christmas dinner. Since Aunt Del died Ms. Hazel had done set her hopes on Uncle Billy. Everyone but Ms. Hazel knew that were a lost cause.

He thanked her, but said he was goin' to stay home. Other folks invited him without the hidden desires Ms. Hazel had an' he would smile an' turn them down too. He told folks Old Dog needed company tomorrow. 'Course, they invited Old Dog then, but Uncle Billy Gilbert just would smile an' again say no.

Christmas Morning in Beloved was glorious. There was just enough snow to make a white Christmas like a greeting card in the little town. Annie Pankey's store, Pankey's Hankies, had the window lighted an' her Santa collection called to hearts young and old to stop an' look. Beloved Baptist Church had it's bells playin' Christmas Carols quietly all morning. Folks that lived in town got out an' swept the sidewalks, just as an excuse to visit with each other. The wonderful smells of Christmas dinners cookin' filled the cold mountain air.

Up in the holler, Uncle Billy an' Old Dog got up early, as usual. He put a pot of coffee on after he let Old Dog out. He sliced a piece of fruitcake (laced with rum, but I'm not a'tellin') that his son Bill sent him. Bill had tried to get him to come up north for Christmas. His son meant well, but that boy's wife just didn't have goodwill in her voice as she fussed in the background of that call. He declined graciously. He just wished Bill would come home one Christmas an' bring the grandkids to spend Christmas day with him.

He'd stirred the fire when he got up an' now he added some coal to make it burn long and slow. Some folks didn't like the smell of a coal fire, but Uncle Billy Gilbert knew the smell was the heart of the hills. Coal was the heart, the lifeblood and the burden of the mountains.

Later in the morning, him an' Old Dog dozed in front of the fire. He planned on goin' for a walk up in the hills sometime during the afternoon. Plenty of day left for that.

All around Beloved folks were celebrating Christmas with their families. Customs were a little different, but the basics were the same, family, cheer, the joy of giving an' little ones gathered close to see what Santa left.

Meals were served and bellies filled as the day past all too quickly. Belts slipped to the next notch an' quite a few folks sat and dozed while company droned on about work, family or the common woes of life.

Hap Ledford sat for a while studyin' on somethin' after an early Christmas dinner. Evelyn could tell somethin' was on his mind an' she asked him what was in his head.

"Would you mind if I didn't help with the dishes an' went down to take Uncle Billy a little plate or something?"

"My goodness, Hap, I was waitin' for you to ask. I have a basket ready for you to take. I baked him a loaf of sour dough bread like he likes an' sliced him a couple of pounds of that country ham. You know how he likes them country hams he cures, but won't hardly keep one for himself. You go on an' spend some time with him. Tell him we all love him."

Hap grinned as Evelyn walked from the kitchen with a basketx filled with bread, country ham, and some of her prize winnin' strawberry jelly. He thought Evelyn didn't see him as he stopped in the shed an' put a quart jar of his elderberry wine in the box. She was standin' inside the door watchin' through the window, grinnin' like a possum over roadkill.

Roscoe Collins was sittin' by his wood stove in that chair Uncle Billy had made him back in the summer. Roscoe swore that them store bought chairs just didn't feel near as good as a chair Uncle Billy crafted. He wondered out loud what Uncle Billy was doin' on Christmas Day an' Rhoda was out of the kitchen, through the covey of grandkids an' lookin' at him with her dark black eyes.

"Why don't you get out of that chair an' go see? You know the chair I mean, Roscoe? The one you asked Uncle Billy to make. The one he wouldn't take a dime for."

It didn't take him long to get his coat an' head for the door. Rhoda handed him a grocery bag filled with turkey, oyster dressing an' half of the stack cake she made. That cake was wonderful, seven layers with jam between each layer. For good measure she sent Uncle Billy a whole vinegar pie. Men needed a little sweetnin' this time of year.

Henry Kay Snoddy didn't need no proddin' over to Bear Rump. Orvina an' him had planned for this visit. Orvina hadn't slept good so she begged out an' sent Henry Kay with some fried chicken, city ham, sweet potato casserole an' a big bowl of home growed greasy beans. Uncle Billy gave her the seeds for them beans.

Daw Collins was already on the road as was Junebug Burns an' his Daddy. Each had boxes an' bags of holiday treats. Junebug had made potato candy an' fudge with his Mama an' made sure that most of it went to Uncle Billy who had never told on him for swipin' Ms. Hazel's prize winning tomatoes.

By the time Junebug got there the big livin' room of Uncle Billy's house was near full with men an' boys, all on an errand of love on Christmas. Uncle Billy answered the door an' his faded blue eyes filled with tears as he saw Junebug standin' with an open container of potato candy.

"Thought you might want a little o' my candy I made." Junebug grinned.

"Get in here, boy, or I'll be a tellin' on you."

Uncle Billy had opened all the boxes, bowls and covered plates as he placed them on the table. He got out every plate an' saucer he had along with all the forks, knives and' spoons in the house.

He spoke loudly, "Fellers, I know I can't eat all this before it goes bad. Now y'all are gonna have to help me before I let you leave. Henry Kay, I'll vouch for you with Orvina, so just you stay right there. If you don't mind, boys, I better say a word of grace."

The men an' boys stood, took off caps an' hats an' bowed their heads.

"Lord, I thank you much for the fellers that came away from hearth an' home to bring some Christmas cheer to this ol servant of yours. They humble me, Father with their love. The wives, Mamas and families they left at home to stop by here fill my heart right good with their generous spirit. 'Course, Lord, these is mountain folks an' You expect no less from us. Now, I thank Ye for the food, the love shown to each other an' the men that stand here, shoulder to shoulder. We have all stood beside each other before, balin' hay, puttin' up tobbacer, bowin' heads in church or lodge. This is my family, Lord. I am humbled an' blessed by their sorry ol' hides. Amen...Oh, an' Lord, keep Henry Kay out of hot water with Orvina for stayin' so long. Amen"

Men an' boys grinned through the tears that Uncle Billy's prayer brought. The lined up, oldest first down through the youngin's an' took plates an' feasted as only men gathered together can do.

No one noticed that Uncle Billy waited till every single guest was served before he went to the cupboard an' got a bowl. Every saucer an' plate was used. He filled his bowl with a little of everything, not wantin' to hurt any feelin's. When he went into the big room, no one had to get out of his chair, them fellers just knew it was his an' saved it for him.

Ol' Dog was a layin' by it, tail a thumpin' as Uncle Billy sat. That dog knew that Christmas dinner was goin' to be fed to him, one scrap at a time by Uncle Billy's hand. Ol' Dog had him trained that way.

There is nothin' better than men gathered together to eat, laugh an' talk. That ol cabin hadn't heard as much joy in a while. Uncle Billy sat an' grinned as he just listened an' watched each face. It was a good Christmas. He wished Aunt Del were there an' a secret tear fell down his cheek when no one noticed.

There was a knock at the door an' Junebug went to answer. A covered dish was left on the porch in front of the door an' Junebug saw Ms. Hazel's car drivin' away. He took the dish an' the note with it to Uncle Billy.

The note said, "Bill, I just know you are forgotten an' lonely in that cold empty cabin. Here is a little something to fill your sad, empty belly. Don't be too proud to stop in later tonight for a visit."

Uncle Billy grinned. He hated to be called Bill. His name was Billy, given to him by his Daddy. Ms. Hazel never would understand. He was alone since Aunt Del died, but never lonely. He was never sad an' obviously could never be forgotten by all the folks that loved him.

The cabin wasn't cold or empty, nor was his heart. It was filled with gladness of a life well spent.

Daw Collins came over about then an' started on a huntin' story. Uncle Billy knew he would have to put in his two cents about that story.

Men an' boys gathered closer as their grand ol' storyteller cleared his throat an' said, "Now, Daw, you left your part in all that out. Here is how I remember it."

There was a warm glow from the windows of that ol' cabin that night. A warm glow inside as men an' boys stayed late into the night.

Just Thanksgiving

Things around Beloved, Kentucky get right busy at Thanksgiving time. The Merchant's Association gets together and puts up the Christmas decorations so the little town snuggled into the hills of Clay County will be festive for the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The weather has turned right smart cold an' folks have on their winter coats as they go about their business.

Annie Pankey is havin' her "Thanksgiving Weekend Sale" at "Pankey's Hankies". Most folks know she has more than hankies. Her little ol' shop is full of antiques, quilts, old lace an' 'bout any type of fancy napkins or tablecloths a person could want. She has her big front window stuffed full of Santa figures. She has a big ol' collection of Santas. That window hardly holds them all these days an' they threaten to overrun the counter space. Annie is a bit odd at times, but there is no place in town that has more Christmas spirit that her place. Stop in an' she's bound to offer y'all some hot mulled cider or some o' her award winnin' punkin bread. Right in the middle o' the store is a harvest table covered with the prettiest quilt Annie has. It is a nativity scene, all sewed from scraps of cotton material. The sheep are made from a fuzzy white material an' when little ones come into the store they can't keep their hands off them sheep. Annie don't care none. She is tickled they want to touch it.

The Beloved Merchants Association sponsors the parade ever' year. It is a big thing in them parts. They usually have four or five fire trucks from over to Manchester an' as far away as Hazard. The Clay County High School Marching Band invites all the surroundin' counties to join them for the parade. Folks expect maybe six bands marchin' this year.

The Veterans of Foreign Wars will be there all in their uniforms an' the Viet Nam vets promised to have a unit there again. It done them boys proud to be a part of the Fourth of July Parade an' folks sort of reckon they will be in all the parades from here on out.

The street lights have fresh cut holly an' cedar branches and a little mistletoe wired to each pole. Local boys try hard to trick their sweeties into standin' under the lights so they can grab a smooch. The girls know the mistletoe is there and they act so innocent...an' avoid the streetlights like the plague. It is a hoot to watch the boys persuade an' the girls do ever' thing but walk under that mistletoe.

The Christmas banners are hung across Main Street from some of the street lights. One says, "Happy Thanksgiving, Beloved!" on one side an' "Merry Christmas, Beloved" on the other.

The Baptist Church has that bell tower with the loud speakers in it. They couldn't afford real bells, so they have a tape player that plays bell music at certain times. Startin' on Thanksgivin' Day they add Christmas carols to the player an' a couple of times a day the bells play a carol or two.

Thanksgiving is the day the police put bags over the twelve parkin' meters in downtown Beloved. It only costs a nickle to park for two hours, but from Thanksgiving to the day after New Year's the meters are covered an' parkin' is free.

The Carnagie Library has a tree put up that Henry Kay Ledford cut way back in the hills. He claims it took him four days just to drag that tree out. It's decorated with cranberries an' popcorn an' cut out ornaments made of construction paper that the youngin's in the readin' programs worked on. Each ornament has glitter along the edges an' there is one of them light wheels that turns an' has four different colors of plastic that the light shines through. You know what I mean, now. It shines first blue, then red, green an' finally yellow on the tree an' the glitter on them ornaments just twinkles.

Folks say that a feller is comin' to the parade that has two live whitetail deer he has trained to pull a little ol' sled on wheels. He dresses up like Santa an' lends them deer an' they walk through town like they was Santa's reindeer. 'Course, they are whitetail, not reindeer, but the youngin's don't care a bit.

There will be popcorn balls, hot mulled cider an' candy, (probably them mushmaller peanuts an' sticks of candy canes) for anyone wantin' some on Thanksgivin' Day before the parade. The Masonic Lodge is also havin' another Thanksgiving Day Turkey Fry. 'Bout ever'body eats at home early an comes to the turkey fry in the evenin'. Cousin Peanut is persona non grata these days an' probably won't even show up for a free meal.

It is gonna be some kind of day on Thanksgiving. Y'all ought to be there. The parade starts at 9:00 a.m. If you need a place to eat early, stop by our place for a bite. Now, if y'all want to come to the Turkey Fry, don't forget to bring a covered dish. An' if you need an idea what to bring...bring green beans or a pie. Don't even think of bringin' some ol' store bought can of warmed up beans. We want the real thing.

the sweetest tomatoes

The Clay County Fair was a goin' full tilt. The rides were full with long lines for all the good rides. The feller at the pony rides didn't have much to do till some proud mountain mama came along an' their youngin' started squallin' about ridin' a pony. He would perk up then an' grin. He could shame a quarter from even the poorest soul for a pony ride.

The bench outside the rabbit barn was a gatherin' place of sorts for many of the older fellers at the fair. It was close to all the food vendors, but far enough away from the midway and all the loud games an' rides that a person could get a little good conversation in.

Uncle Billy sat by himself on the bench. Several fellers had come an' gone over the space of an hour. All had news to offer about which youngin' won in this or that 4H barn. The turkey judgin' was goin' on an' Uncle Billy expected a report soon from that contest.

He had spent most of the mornin' makin' brooms an' talkin' with folks. His hands had another idea right now, though. Ever' now an' again he suffered with a little arthritis. Today it was worse than it had been all week. He reckoned it was keepin' his hands wet an workin' with the broomcorn for such long periods. He sat with one hand in the other. For good measure he would rub the knuckles softly, hoping to rub the ache out.

As he sat there, he heard someone callin' his name. "Hey, Uncle Billy. Uncle Billy, over here. Here."

There was folks goin' all different directions an' Uncle Billy couldn't see where the voice was comin' from till Junebug Burns plopped himself down on the bench beside Uncle Billy. Junebug had some sheep that were going to be judged later that day an' he was right smart nervous about it. Folks were sayin' that his sheep were the best to come through the fairgrounds in a long time. Junebug hoped that was true. He could use the money from a good auction to put away for college. He wanted to go to college over to Cumberland Baptist College to study an' be a teacher. He promised anyone who listened to him that he would come back an' teach in his hometown of Beloved when he was done.

"Uncle Billy, you look right tired."

"I reckon sleepin' on a cot in a barn ain't as peaceful as I might like, Junebug. How 'bout you?"

Well sir, I just don't mind it a bit. They is so much to do here I don't sleep much anyways."

Uncle Billy chuckled, "I don't know that I would repeat that to your Mama, Junebug."

"No sir, that might be a foolish thing to do."

"How are the sheep this year, Junebug? Think you'll win it?"

Junebug sat an' studied a little while before he answered, "Well, I don't rightly know. Lots of folks have stopped by an' looked 'em over. I think I got as good a chance as anyone."

Junebug watched Uncle Billy rubbin' his hands for a second or two, "Them hands hurtin' you?"

"Yessir, some days is better than others. They hurt more in the mornin's than any other time."

"Mine don't do that none."

Uncle Billy grinned, "No sir, I reckon they won't for another 60 years or so."

"You hungry, Uncle Billy?"

"Mountain men are always hungry. You?"

"Always."

Uncle Billy chuckled. He figured Junebug had spent his money on games an' was lookin' for a good meal. "Reckon you want to go over an' get somethin' to eat with me?"

"Nope, I got somethin' for you an' me to eat right here."

Junebug reached into a bag he was carryin' an' pulled out two of the prettiest red, ripe tomaters Uncle Billy had ever seen. Junebug had a salt shaker in his hand as he handed the bigger one to Uncle Billy.

"Those are nice tomaters, Junebug. I appreciate that. Nothin' better than a tomater with a little salt."

Junebug already had a mouthful as he agreed. The two sat an' ate slowly, each enjoyin' the sweet taste of the tomaters. Ever' now an' again a little juice ran down their lips. Both were quick to catch it and place it back in their mouths. The tomaters were just that good. A feller didn't want to waste a drop.

Uncle Billy chuckled, "I reckon we are both eatin like we are starved. Only thing could make these better would be sittin' in the garden eatin' 'em right off the vine."

Junebug grinned, "Onliest thing could make 'em better is you an' me sneakin' into that garden after dark an' sittin' between the rows eatin' 'em in the moonlight."

"Now, Junebug, what garden did you sneak into? Are these from someone's garden? When did you sneak out?"

"Uncle Billy, I ain't sneaked off the fairgrounds. I promised Pap I wouldn't an' I keep my promises. Just don't ask no questions."

Uncle Billy looked at Junebug for a long time. He had slowed his eatin' down at the prospect of eatin' ill gotten gains. He studied the small piece of tomater he had left for a long while. "Junebug, they don't sell tomaters here at the fair, do they?"

"No sir, they don't. Eat up, Uncle Billy. You are askin' too many questions."

Uncle Billy sat up. He knew something was wrong!

"Junebug Burns! Where did you get these tomaters?"

"Uncle Billy, here is the way it is. Ms.Hazel bugs me to death at church all the time. She tells me to stand up straight, wipes my face with spit an' a hankie if she thinks she sees a little dirt. She tells my Mama on me all the time an' I get in trouble from her carryin' on. Her tomaters was already judged an' won a blue ribbon. They was a whole basket full an' I felt like she owed me a couple."

"Ms.Hazel? Oh, Junebug, if you get caught there will be no end of this! Of all the folks to swipe tomaters from...Ms.Hazel. That woman is a thorn in my side too, Junebug. She will have out hides if she catches us. I'll have to go over to her house for a Sunday dinner to apologize. That woman wants to get her hooks in me anyway, son."

"Well, I reckon we better eat up real fast, Uncle Billy. Don't want anyone seein' us eatin' her tomaters, do we?"

With that thought, both man an' boy put the last bite of sweet, red tomater in their mouth and swallowed hard an' fast. Both grinned a little as they sat on the bench in front of the rabbit barn. Neither said anything for a long time.

"Uncle Billy?"

"Yep?"

"Stolen tomaters is the best."

"Junebug!"

"They are, Uncle Billy. Sneakin' in an' swipin' a tomater makes it sweeter. You said they was good."

"I reckon, boy, I reckon. Just don't tell anyone we ate Ms.Hazel's prize winnin' tomaters. Just my luck I'd have to end up marryin' the woman to end her shame."

Junebug looked at Uncle Billy with a grin that sliced from ear to ear. They shared a secret that bonded them that day. In the years to come Junebug would grow closer to the old man. Eventually he would learn to make brooms from Uncle Billy. Years later he would sit in a barn makin' brooms an' tellin' stories Uncle billy told him on days just like this one. Them tomaters changed the directions of Junebug's life.

Junebug was right. There is nothin' sweeter than a swiped tomater...

Unless it was pullin' somethin' over on Ms. Hazel. Man an' boy both enjoyed that sweet, red secret.

First Frost

There is a chill in the air tonight.
Chickens started roostin' pretty early too.
Twilight and the fog is already started down
Covering the underbrush, slidin' round the trees.

There is a brittle feel to the air.
Like it is hidin' icy fingers,
Waiting to reach out and wrap frosty hands
Round cabin, barn and farmyard.

There is a bone cold feel this evenin'.
Feller needs a coat to go check the barn,
Needs a sweater round the house.
Get that stove a going good, now.

There is a frost just a settlin' in.
Just wait and you'll see, brother.
Grass will be icy blades under foot,
Cracklin' like cellophane as you walk.

There, there it is in the window corner.
See it yonder, there, first frost,
Sneakin' into the cabin near bedtime.
Thinkin' a feller won't see the signs.

There is first frost tonight.
Cover your roses and them mums, now.
Crackly, crinkly frost on the window.
Extra quilts on the bed tonight.

Brylcreem

Years ago, when I was a little feller, I dreamed of being a cowboy. It was just after the birth of television and westerns were the rage. TVs were always and only black and white and there were some folks still who had old radios that had been adapted with a cathode ray tube.

On Saturday mornings the western was the rule and Roy Rogers was the King of the Cowboys! Dale Evans was beautiful and I loved her as only a six year old can love a woman. When I turned five my Mama bought me and my little brother Roy Rogers outfits. They were complete with white shirts with little red roping on the edges of the collars that matched the red bandana the outfit came with. The pants were black with red piping going down the seam that matched a black vest with red trim. The red Roy Rogers hat topped off the outfit easily.

Now, I won't even brag about the beautiful leather gunbelt and two chrome metal six shooters with real plastic bullets that fit into the holdres on the gunbelt. I never could figure why it came with them plastic bullets since they didn't fit the gun. It was a jim dandy cap pistol.

I wore that outfit all the time. Mama has pictures of me and my little brother standin' in the doorway at Christmas in our Roy Rogers outfits...just as proud as any cowpoke could be.

My Grandma and Grandpa lived just down the road from us- a short walk. We spent plenty of time at their house. Grandma could make cookies like you never ate in your life. They had a big ol' poodle dog called Bobo an' my little brother used to pretend it was one of them rodeo bulls and wrassle with it.

Grandpa used to love to have his hair combed. He would pay me the huge sum of ten cents to comb his hair. Now, when I could I would comb for a minute or two and quit. He never let me go with just a minute or two. The deal was a good combin' and it usually took near ten minutes to satisfy him.

I would sit on the back of his chair with my legs draped over his shoulders and comb and comb. He loved that so much. Most of the time he fell asleep as I combed. More than once Grandma would lift me off his shoulders as he dozed.

Now, I gotta tell you something. Combin' hair for a livin' at the age of five or six can get right borin'. There ain't much to it. To top that off, Grandpa loved to listen to the Cincinnati Reds on the radio. So I would sit there and comb while he listened and dozed.

To make it fun I would pretend as I combed. Bein' a cowpoke in trainin', I pretended mostly about cowboyin'. In my mind I would ride an' rope an' shoot em up with the other cowboys. I would catch the crooks an win the gals.

Didn't figure out what to do with the gals when I won 'em for a long time.

Then I decided combin' Grandpa's hair was sorta like curryin' a horse. I had done both. Actually, I had curried and brushed my other Grandpa's mules, but mules is sorta like horses.

From that day on Grandpa became my favorite horse Trigger an' I was Roy Rogers. Grandma didn't know why I called her Dale sometimes, but went along with things. I would take that comb and comb Trigger's mane over and over. It grew longer as I combed. It was a heck of a lot more fun since Grandpa sat an' became Trigger for me. Roy Rogers couldn't be caught combin' Grandpa's hair. It was more respectable to comb Trigger than Grandpa!

Then one day I almost fell off the back of the chair. As I slid backwards I caught Grandpa by the ears and held on. He grabbed my hands to help me up. Right then and there I had an idea. As I sat in front of Grandpa, recovering, I noticed his ears looked a bit longer!

What if I pulled on his ears on a regular basis? Reckon he would start lookin' more like a ridin' and ropin' pony?

Well, I started then and there pullin' on his ears every time I combed his hair. I would sit there and comb, smelling the slight scent of Brylcreem, dreamin' of bein' a cowboy and ridin' the range. When he would doze off to sleep...jerk - his ears would get a tug.

Now he didn't like it much, but he put up with it for the hair combing. He didn't care much for me huggin' him as I left and callin' him Trigger. I don't know what he thought of my attempts to comb his hair to look like Trigger's did on the big screen or on TV. In my eyes he was lookin' more ands more like Roy's famous horse.

I tried to get him to count to ten with his feet, but he wasn't takin' that. When I tried to put that rope in his mouth that one day...well, I got a spankin' no cowboy should ever have to get.

It has been years since I combed Grandpa's hair. He finally got tired of it when the tops of his ears started droopin' over a little.

Never got me a Palimino horse like Trigger. Someday I will. Someday I will.

And I'm gonna name it.......

Brylcreem!!!