Morning at the Gilbert place

Del Gilbert woke easily, well before the sun was up.  Her husband, Billy would be up soon.  He patted her shoulder as she rolled to the edge of their bed and sat up.  Most mornings he would lay in bed and spend a few moments in quiet prayer as he prepared for his day.  His day would start fast and go steady till their noon meal.  He would be back in the fields soon after and would finally stumble in, dog tired just before dark to eat a bite, sip on some iced tea on the porch and listen to the radio till bed time.  Most folks called him "Uncle Billy" and he was what folks call "a good ol' boy".

There was a pretty good chance that one or more neighbor would wander by and stop for some sweet tea and conversation in the early evenin' hours.  Though their home was off the beaten path and at the end of a road that wandered deep into a holler, it sometimes seemed like Grand Central Station to Del.

 Del quickly made biscuits and pushed the pan into the oven.  Bacon and ham soon fell into a fryin' pan and the little cabin tucked into the holler was smellin' wonderful.  Grits bubbled and steamed on the back burner right beside a little pan filled with warm water in which she put a quart jar of maple syrup to warm.  Billy liked maple syrup in his grits and his own sourwood honey on his biscuits.

Five bee gums (hives for the Yankee folks) sat a little further back in the holler and were just about ready to be robbed of the season's bounty of sourwood honey.  The sourwood trees had been just beautiful this year with all the rain.  Their limbs had hung low, laden with white, fragrant flowers that they could smell from their front porch... or anywhere else in their humble cabin when the windows were open.

The bees worked those trees steady for weeks.  Their buzzin' created a hum around the trees that was magical.  It seemed like the whole hillside was alive an' singin' glory an' hallelujahs to the Good Lord above when the Sourwoods were bloomin'.  Del often took a chair out close to the trees on a nice day and sat in the shade, listenin' to that hum as she pieced quilts or peeled taters for dinner.

The biscuits came out of the oven and Del cracked eggs into a little pan shined up with just a dab of bacon grease... made the eggs taste good an made her cleanin' the pan easier with a slick of grease in the bottom.  Billy ate two and she had one, all over easy.  Since her layin' hens were goin' great guns, she fried up a few more.  Maybe Billy would want another for breakfast.  Maybe he would put a cold fried egg on his plate for dinner.  Maybe one of the neighbors would stop for coffee and have a biscuit stuffed with a fried egg to gossip over.

"Better come on, ol' man.  This breakfast is coolin' quick an' I am 'bout ready to toss it out for the dogs" she called.

"I hear ye. I hear ye.  A feller cain't even get his boots laced 'round here.  You threaten me every day with throwin' my breakfast to the dogs.  It ain't happened in 48 years and I don't reckon you'll start now." Billy chuckled.

Del grinned and sat the plate of eggs on the table.  She wiped her hands on the dish towel that hung on her shoulder, folded it and laid it by the sink.  Billy and Del sat, joined hands and bowed their heads.

"Now Lord, we ain't got much to brag about.  What we got is from You and we are humbled by the bounty of this little patch of ground you have given us here in this holler.  We don't rightly know what we have done to deserve all we have been blessed with, don't reckon our blessin's come from what we deserve, but what You grace us with.  For that and for this table we give You thanks, Lord.  Watch over us and them we love this day.  Bless our country, our President, them that govern and us that live free.  Be with the boys that guard and protect in the Armed Forces.  Bless the Governor of Kentucky and those folks we have elected to guide our state, the local folks.  Lord, give 'em some wisdom... give them government folks a lot of wisdom, Lord.  I just don't know about them folks sometimes.  Get 'em off their high horses an' back down to earth." Billy prays.

Del squeezes Billy's hand and he chuckles; "Sorry I went on so, Lord.  Help us as we go about our work today.  Help us to be humble and to know You are God.  Thanks for your son, Jesus.  I'm prayin' all this in His Mighty name.  Amen."

They squeeze each others hand, Billy leans over, as he does every day and kisses Del.  This is a custom he started their first day of marriage as Del sat cryin' over burned biscuits an' crispy eggs.  He leaned over that mornin', kissed her, told her every thing looked wonderful and ate every bite.  From that day till this he would kiss her before his first bite.

Breakfast is soon over.  Billy grabs the bowl of scraps Del has prepared and crumbles a biscuit into the bowl. He is out the back door and into the barn to begin his day.  Del sits back down an' pours a cup of coffee.  Them dishes ain't goin' nowhere.  She listens as Billy calls his ol' Sooner dog.  Sooner has been sleepin' under the front porch but soon is up, has a good shake and trots - side aways over to eat his breakfast as Billy throws cracked corn to the chickens.

Sooner will follow Billy from chore to chore all day long.  When Billy begins to work, Sooner will go round and round a few time and drop like he was dead to the ground... one eye openin' occasionally to make sure Billy is there.  At noon, man and dog will head back to the house.

That's the way it happens most days.  It is a simple life, a good life.  It is, as they know, a blessed life.

Sizzling Dawn

Still dark and even the birds are snuggled in
Heads down close to their breasts
Little beaks open, panting in their sleep.
The heat of yesterday still lingers, waiting
Till sunrise fuels the beginning of a new day.
Grasses barely damp with morning dew
That too soon dried and is gone.
Mists linger high up in the hills
Like genteel ladies with skirts held high
Not daring to step down into the hollers.
Old mule sleeps and stirs, shakes a weary head
He stuck outside the window of a hot and stuffy barn.
Tin roofs ping in the night once, twice, again
Warping and shifting as they cool.
Sneaky old cat found its way to the root cellar
Cooling off and waiting for a sneaky mouse.
Old dog retreated early to his spot
Deep yonder under the house.
Big Ben alarm clock jangles and rings
A moan, a groan, a hand slaps the clock
Sizzling hot summer morning
No relief in sight.

Lilac Perfume

The morning struggles to roll across the horizon
Slowed by thick mist that still rolls around the hollers
The mist seems to hold the fragrance
Of lilacs down the road just a piece
Almost as if Spring is a beautiful woman
Standing at the world's perfume counter
And spraying Lilac Parfum on her wrists
Behind each delicate ear.

Celebration of a Quiet Life

Go with me to the mountains, deep in the mountains, the hills and hollers of Eastern Kentucky.  I'll take you there, to a holler with a creek runnin' through called Flat Creek.  Look around with me and find the highest place.  Though these old mountains were worn before men ever walked the hills, help me find the highest one.  Please be patient and climb that hill along side me.  Come on, I'll take you there.

Stand quiet now.  Breath in deep and smell the honeysuckle, the cedar and pine.  Breathe deep again and catch the thick sweet smell of sourwood bloomin' down below.  When the wind blows up the hill just right the fragrance is so amazin'.  Listen and you can hear the honeybees workin' the sourwood blossoms.

Look around, look down into the hollers at the old rugged cabins, so many deserted now.  Close your eyes and go back with me, nearly 87 years.  Come with me, I'll take you there.  Down yonder, just there, the cabin is gone now, but back then, a simple log cabin stood there, just a plain ol' mountain cabin with a dirt floor was there in that clear spot, there, just there, do you see?

The youngin's have been sent down the road to Aunt Dellie's for a while.  The midwife came just a while ago on an old red mule.  Grandpa Steve Hollen brushes down the old mule just to have something.  Till there comes a cry...

As I close my eyes, I imagine it was something like that, when my Daddy was born.  No one noticed much, beside family.  He was never a rich man, never bragged on himself, never made headlines.  He lived a simple and quiet life.

Today, seven years after his passin', I celebrate his quiet life.  In so many ways I am not like him, can never fill his shoes, but I am so much of him.  So much of who I am is due to that quiet life.

He wasn't able to finish school... went to war instead.  Sailor, Seabee, yet he never talked about those war years.  I just don't know about those years.

Home again, he found work, as many did, in a factory and worked as much as he could to support a wife and five years after their marriage, one son, then another.

I'm told when I would cry (and he had been out with cousins and friends) more than once he climbed into my crib and laid with me... I can only imagine.  When I had colic he and my Mom would get in the car nightly and drive around till I fell asleep.

I remember when Daddy and Mom came home with Brother Mike.  Daddy walked in the side door holding my little brother so very careful, his quiet smile so big, so proud he had two boys.  He had a gold tooth back then, said he got it while he was in the Navy.  It showed through when he grinned.  I wanted a gold tooth back then.

When I was 8, his life changed as he walked a church aisle, accepted Jesus as Lord and quietly served his God.  A few months later I followed his path down that same aisle.  In March of 1963, Daddy and I stepped into a chilly baptistry together. I was baptized first, then Daddy was baptized.  Oh my it was cold!  (Don't forget Baptists immerse completely... and the water heater was new and not connected yet on that cold March Sunday)

One by one, cousin, sister, old friends and family followed Daddy down that aisle.  Not because he was an evangelist, preacher or prophet.  He never proselytized.  He just lived a quiet life, a life changed to make him a better man.  He was happy and content.  They saw how he lived and, like me, I reckon they wanted some of what he found.

When Brother Mike and I had kids our quiet Daddy changed again.  For two ornery sons he often was stern.  He could just look at us and we would settle down.  But when the grand-babies  took hold of Pappy he was sweet and gentle.  He walked and rocked them in his arms, sang to them, looked deep into their souls and loved them as only a Grandpa can.

My Kelly would sit with him in his recliner and together them would watch cartoons for hours.  She claimed he loved watching the Smurfs... yet I remember the crossword book in his hands each time they sat watching cartoons.

I can still see them together, Pappy and Kelly watching cartoons, Pooh Bear safe in her arms.

Then cancer took him in just 41 days.  Oh my, just not enough time to say all I wanted to say.  Daddy never talked much, wasn't much on verbal expressions of love.  He lived a quiet life.  Most times through my life when I would say, "I love you Daddy", he would say, "Same here".  That was always enough, we knew he just found it hard to express himself like that.

Instead he worked hard, lived that quiet life, provided for us, quietly loved us, showed us how to live.

Yet in those 41 days, every time we said "I love you" he would say "I love you too".  As he hurt, as he suffered he told us each time that he loved us.  What a great man he was, what a great Daddy.

Today I celebrate the quiet, exemplary life of Jimmie Hollen, born 12/17/1924, died 5/15/2004.

Lessons Learned on the Cabin Porch

Lesson One: The Purpose of a Porch

This is a lament for the loss of the front porch.  Not that they are no longer built, but that they are no longer used.  Folks build decks or patios these days.  Some might add on a front porch, or pretend with a "stoop".  Folks huddle inside to keep warm in the winter and air conditioned cool in the summer, forgetting the multiple benefits of the front porch.

The front porch, in the days of glory for all front porches, was the shaded spot to relax after supper, to sip coffee on Sunday with the Preacher (and his wife!), to watch folks go by and discuss the goin's on around the area.

It might have sounded something like this; "Well, I swan, here comes Homer Wagers in his new truck.  ain't new, 'course.  I heard Homer went to the bank an' got a loan for that truck.  Law-zee, can you imagine?  Gettin' into debt an' owin' the bank for somethin' such as a truck.  Next thing you know they will come an' take his truck an' his house an' where will Emmerline an' his none youngin's go?  Probably end up in Ohio or even worse, Michigan workin' in them factories, don't ya know."

(As the truck pulls up and stops) Well, howdy Homer, Emmerline.  We didn't know that was you drivin' along in that fine fancy truck!  It cain't be more than two years old!  What? four years old?  I swan, it don't look it.  Been taken good care of, it has.

Y'all hear 'bout Charlie Clark?  He 'bout got et up by a groundhog he pulled out of its hole.  He needs to quit that silliness.  Gropin' for groundhogs.  That is plumb nonsense.  Gropin' for catfish is one thing, groundhogs is another.

Y'all come on up and sit a spell.  No?  Well, drive that new truck back when you can visit longer"

(As the truck with Homer and Emmerline drives off) "Did you think they was actin' uppity?  Give a hillbilly a new truck an' he thinks he is the king of the hills.  Hmmph.  I knew him when he was a stealin' chickens to feed his family."