County Fair part two

The Clay County Fair was goin' full tilt. Sunday was always a good day at the fair. Folks still came to the fair after church dressed in their "Sunday go to meetin'" clothes. Little ol' girls had on their dresses, white socks an' either black patent shoes or saddle oxfords. Boys had their cowlicks pressed down with a little luck an' a lot o' spit. Their shirts were pressed white and their shoes shined. Mamas and Dads herded youngin's almost as good as the 4Hers in the barns did their animals.

Uncle Billy sat outside the exhibition hall takin' it all in. He had made brooms an' a few milk stools all weekend till Sunday. He never worked on Sunday. Never did, never would. He didn't sell any of his brooms on Sunday either, though he didn't fault others if they wanted to work or buy an' sell. It was just his personal beliefs was all.

They had a church service on the fairgrounds for all the folks what were missin' church by bein' there an' tendin' their animals or booths. Uncle Billy always led the singin' with his deep bass voice.

A couple years back a collection was taken up to buy some o' them Broadman Hymnals. Each an' ever' one was stamped "Fairgrounds Church Meeting" on the front in gold letters. Inside each one was the name of the folks what donated it.

The preachers around the community took turns doin' the service an' this year it was Brother Harley Davidson's turn. The preacher would always appoint someone to fill his pulpit while he preached at the fairgrounds. Brother Harley was from the Church of God. He asked Jesse Gilbert to fill in for him. Jesse was home from college an' was goin' to make a preacher when he got out.

Uncle Billy watched the parade of folks as they walked 'round the grounds, hands full of this an that, stuffed animals, painted canes, waffles an' cotton candy. More than once a feller would stop an' pass the time o' day with Uncle Billy. They talked about all the important things o' the day...the weather, cattle prices, which youngin' was gonna take the grand champion steer this year. Now that was a hot topic.

When it got dark folks would start comin' round an' settlin' in around Uncle Billy an' Homer Wilson. Both them fellers was storytellers an' ever'one wanted to get as close as they could to hear all them fellers had to tell.

They did a round robin, tellin' a story then sittin' down whilst lookin' at the other, almost darin' 'em to beat that one. Folks was as quiet as the dead, jus' wantin' to hear what they said. It usually went on for two or three hours, goin' from short funny jokes an' such to longer stories an' maybe a scary one or two.

Homer Wilson said, "Now, that is the way I heerd it, an' I reckon fur as I knowed it was true enough." He sat down an' looked to Uncle Billy who stood an' looked over the crowd...

"Now, let me see here. That reminds me o' the time...."

County Fair

"County Fair days in Clay County", folks jus' plain ol' light up when they hear them words. Womenfolks have been puttin' away canned goods all summer just tryin' to get one of them blue ribbons. They fuss over the way every cucumber spear looks as they pack jars for picklin'. They carefully pour hot jelly into jars so no foam appears. They look like they got somethin' wrong with 'em as they shake an' jiggle jelly before it gels...tryin' to get bubbles out.

Uncle Billy walks Old Dog out to the truck and loads him into the front seat. Old Dog knows they are a goin' to the fair. His tail ain't stopped thumpin' for near two days.

The back of the truck is loaded with a cot, an ol' ladderback chair, a couple quilts and Uncle Billy's shave horse. They is a suitcase in the front with his clothes for the week. He has been goin' to the fair as long as he can remember. He has stayed the week at the fair for more years than he cares to count.

He stops an' studies the back o' the truck for just a while an' realizes he don't have no wood to work with at the fair. He always takes his shavehorse an' makes brooms an' milk stools each day in the exposition barn. Back in the back Uncle Billy an several other ol' fellers will set up their cots in stalls what once were used for calves before the cow barn was expanded. 'Lectric fans sit in the winders an' keep a breeze a goin' day an' night for to cool them ol' fellers. They sit around in the evenin' an' talk up a storm. If they was a prize fer jawin', one of them fellers would git it, that is for sure.

Uncle Billy's stride is long as he makes his way to his work room in the barn. He carefully selects about 50 sassafras sticks for brooms an' half agin as many for legs for his milk stools he will make. He already threw some lil' ol' maple logs from the woodpile into the back of the truck for the seats o' the stools. Folks buy them as fast as he can make them. Some folks know he donates all the money to the Oneida Institute for youngin's what cain't afford to pay their way.

As he is walkin' out he grabs his oilcan an' an Arkansas whetstone. Them drawknives is gonna get dull usin' 'em as often as he will this week.

He grins as he throws the sticks in the back an' reaches for the ol' truck door. There is nothin' better than a county fair. He can jus' smell the food now. French fries with a load of vinegar on 'em, them big ol' crispy waffles an' some cotton candy for sure. He eats one of them ol' sausage sammiches 'bout ever' day. 'Course, for supper he goes over to the dinner tent an' has whatever the Eastern Star ladies has fixed for the daily special. Usual Monday is fried chicken, Tuesday is chicken an' dumplin's. Wednesday is that I-talian night an' he don't eat none o' that ol' spaghetti. He jus' don' favor it none at all.

As he drives he cain't help but grin. They is nothin' better than County Fair. The horse show starts that evenin' an' goes through Sunday. It always has been Friday to Sunday an' is the highlight o' the weekend. The 4H judgin' starts Monday early with the rabbits an' poultry.

Next weekend will be a busy time for Uncle Billy. He has auctioned the 4H animals for years. They is new auctioneers 'round the county, but no one has done the 4H auction for near 50 years. He loves workin' the crowd, tryin' to git as much for them animals as he can. It ain't above Uncle Billy to shame folks into raisin' a bid. A load o' youngin's from 'round Beloved went to college with 4H money thanks to the shamin' of Uncle Billy. He reckoned he was gonna have to turn it over to someone one of these days, but as long as he is able, he was gonna do 'er.

The man at the back gate saw Uncle Billy through the windshield an' waved him through. He pulled up an' rolled his window down, "How's it lookin', Joe?"

"Lookin' right good, Uncle Billy. I reckon that Sizemore boy might win with that big ol steer he brung in. You seen it?"

"Yessir, I did. It is as fine a steer as I have seen. How 're the sheep an' goats comin' in? I heard them boys over on Martin's Creek ever' one has an entry this year."

"That is a fact. They all look good. Their Daddy would whup ever' one of 'em if they didn't keep them animals up good. He won I don' know how many ribbons an' trophies in his day."

"Well now, he did from what I recollect. Well I better get on."

"Have a good time this year, Uncle Billy"

"Y'all can bet on that one."

Uncle Billy grinned as he drove into the fairgrounds. He pulls up to the exhibition barn an they is half a dozen youngin's see him an' come runnin'. They have his cot an 'bout ever' thing else in his stall before him an' Ol' Dog can get out. They are a grinnin' as hard as he is.

He rubs the burr headed Arnett boy with his big ol' hand like he has done ever' year. "That's for luck." Uncle Billy tells the boy. It must have worked 'cause last year he won for best of show with his market turkeys.

Uncle Billy looked over the hurry scurry of the fairgrounds and his grin got even bigger, "Yessir, they is nothin' better than a county fair."

Company

Gettin' dishes redded up is not an easy chore for most menfolks. When a feller lives alone it is easy to do the simple things, like washin' a mug you drank out of, or maybe swipin' at the plate you ate off with a little water, soap an' a dishrag. Gettin' ready for company comin' meant makin' sure dishes was clean an' spotless.

Well sir, Uncle Billy had been dreadin' the time it was gonna take to wash them dishes, but he didn't want his boy, Will to come an' him an' his wife seein' dusty dishes an' start that racket about comin' to live with them. He had heard it too many times.

"Daddy, we know y'all love it here, but we love you. It is a lonely life here alone on this farm with just that ol' sooner dog to keep you company. We have decided to make a room for you in the basement. It's a walk-out basement, all finished, don't ya know. We'll take your bed an' some of the quilts Mama made an' fix it up right nice."

"Yes, Father Billy, it will be lovely. The grandchildren will love to have you there. You can play with them all the time. You can watch television with them and even with us. I know you will just adore the Ed Sullivan Show. Why, you will be right there and it will be wonderful for all of us. It will give William and I opportunity to spend time with friends more often too."

Uncle Billy hated it when his daughter-in-law called him Father Billy. Made him feel like some kind of priest or somethin'. He weren't too fond of her an' her high falootin' ways anyhow. Called Will "William". That woman could make "William" sound like she was cussin' sometimes.

Well, they was comin' an' he was glad for that. It were proper for a boy to come home to see his folks. It was a long time since Will had been home. He reckoned it had been over two years since they had come down to see him. Will wrote now and then, but since they weren't no phone lines in these parts, it was hard to talk to each other.

His grandkids weren't allowed to do the things kids should do. They was always dressed too good to play in the creek or run the mountains like Will and his brother Johnny had done. They brought books an' read the whole dang time they was there. Readin' was good, but a youngin' needed some fresh air.

The dishes was washed an' the beds made with fresh sheets. Uncle Billy had aired the quilts for the day an' they smelled fresh with mountain air an' the hint of cedars that grew beside the clothes line.

For good measure he had gone over to Dobson's an' bought a little candy an' some store bought cookies. They liked that soft sugar-stick candy right good an' the lil' ol' girl, Margaret took to them mushmeller peanuts. He didn't know why they called her Margaret. Not Mag, Maggie or even Marge...just Margaret. The boy was supposed to be named after him, but that boy's name was William. His name was jus' plain ol Billy. Not William or even Bill but Billy, an' he tol' folks so.

Well sir, he dusted right good an' swept the whole house out. The winders was open an' he had got some sourwood flowers off the sourwood trees in the hillside above the cabin. It was sourwood time an' the hills was jus' full o' bees just a buzzin' round them sourwood blossoms. It were a magical time. The air was sweet with the smell an' the bees just never quit. He wished he could take them youngin's up into the hill to let them sit with him an' jus' watch the bees a workin'.

Their mother wouldn't even let that happen. She would jus' have a fit it it were even mentioned. He could hear her now, "Bees are dangerous. We don't want our children rushed to the hospital with thousands of bee bites" she would say.

"Bee bites!" he grumbled to himself. "I'll give her bee bites. She is the reason Will don't come home. He loves this place. He gets rested in jus' the short time they're here. I can see it in his face, Old Dog. She is jus' leachin' the mountain out of him an' he don't know it."

Old Dog looked up from where he lay an' his big ol' tail thumped in agreement a couple of times before he dropped his head back onto the floor. Old Dog agreed with most ever' thing Uncle Billy said. They was two halves to one man, or so Uncle Billy said.

Old Dog was also too dusty an' was always losin' hair all round the house, acordin' to his daughter-in-law. He would be given to a neighbor to live the rest of his days in the country if Uncle Billy came to live with them. He needed to be in the country, was their reasonin'. Old Dog would jus' pine away for the hills they said.

Funny how they saw that 'bout Old Dog an' not Uncle Billy.

Ever' thing was ready an' the house was sweet with fresh mountain air an' sourwood blooms. Uncle Billy sat on the porch swing with a mug of his strong, black coffee in his hand an' waited for them to come up the creek.

Will always started a honkin' that horn when he got to the curve in the creek. Them kids would be a hollerin' out the winders an' carryin' on any time now. 'Course the daughter-in-law thought that was a terrible thing, but that was one time Will had a little of the mountain backbone he was born with. He always did honk that ol' horn to beat the band.

"Traffic through Cincinnati mus' be terrible, cause they was usual here by now." Uncle Billy thought as he sat round 'bout 2:00. "It can sure slow a feller down is what Will always says."

At 5:00 Uncle Billy got a little worried an' walked around the farm a little to get the kinks outta his bones. Old Dog an' him looked over ever' plant an' fence in the farmyard as he waited.

At 6:00 he decided he better not wait supper an' had a fried baloney an' tomater sandwich with a little mayo on 'er.

Uncle Billy normal didn't stay up till 9:30, but he figured they might have had problems. At 10:00 he went over to Hap Collins an' Hap drove with him to the Post Office over to Goose Rock. It was a long drive, but the Postmaster, S. B. Lipps, had one of the only phones anywhere other than in Manchester. It was a party line an' S.B. had to get on the line an' tell Sister Hazel Budder that Uncle Billy needed to make a call to his boy to see if he was all right.

Will answered right off an' tol' Uncle Billy that his wife, the daughter-in-law, didn't want to expose herself to all that pollen from them trees blooming on the hillside. "They are a terrible allergy producing bother." were her exact words.

He said work was pretty busy these days, anyway and the children were in summer sports, Little League and swimming team. It just wasn't fair to ask them to give up their sports to drive down and just sit in that cabin. If he could get television it might be different for them.

Uncle Billy listened an' tol' Will to take care an' write soon.

As Hap drove him home he seemed to age a year for ever' mile they drove. He almost seemed to bend over with his age as the road took them from Goose Creek back home. He fell asleep an' leaned his ol' gray head on the cool window of the truck.

Hap woke him when they got back to the farm an' Uncle Billy reached out his hand, as he always did when he saw Hap. The two men looked at each other an' Hap saw a tear fall down from the tired blue eyes.

Only time Hap ever saw Uncle Billy cry in public was the evenin' Aunt Del died an' Uncle Billy walked all the way up the road to ask him to go into town an' get Charlie White, the undertaker. He stood at the foot of Hap's steps that night an' cried like a baby, too upset to tell Hap what had happened. 'Course, Hap knowed it was Aunt Del when Uncle Billy showed up a' walkin'.

Uncle Billy looked him in the eye an' tried to say somethin', anythin'. He shook his head an' turned away, "Times change, Hap. Times change."

"They sure do, Uncle Billy. They sure do."

Uncle Billy turned an' waved over his shoulder as he went into the dark cabin.

Raggedy Taggedy Shaggedy Man

I'm the raggedy man an' I love to roam,
I got me a house but it ain't my home.
Unfettered feet, unshackled will,
I'll make my home in yonder hill.

I'm the raggedy man, the taggedy man
The raggedy taggedy shaggedy man.

Don't want no job, no car, no bills,
Song of the dove is my only thrills.
In the mountains so much to see,
Look for me there, 'cause there I'll be.

Cause I'm the raggedy man, the taggedy man
The raggedy taggedy shaggedy man.

The Lord an' me, we had a talk,
He come down here an' took a walk.
Looked all 'round, had to agree,
Said them hills is the place for me.

Yes, I'm the raggedy man, the taggedy man
The raggedy taggedy shaggedy man.

When you get to Heaven before I do,
Don't you think I'm a comin' too.
Don't want streets of gold or a city fair,
Cain't go to Heaven 'cause I'm already there.

Oh, I'm the raggedy man, the taggedy man
The raggedy taggedy shaggedy man.

The Things in the Smokehouse

Y'all ever go into the smokehouse
All alone an' by yourself?
Late at night when the hooty owls are a-huntin'
An' tree frogs are a-screamin' bloody murder?

It's a scary thing, I tell you'uns that.
Why, the door itself is agin ye.
Hinges screechin' like they ain't ever seen oil
An' the door's heavier at night than in the day.

Lookin' into an ol' dark smokehouse is a frightful thing.
It smells good, like smoked meats an' sweet woods,
But don't you'uns be fooled an' be off'n yer guard.
They is things what is in there, waitin' for ye.

Them hams hangin' high ain't jus' curin' as they sway,
An' that big ol' strip o' bacon, why'd it move?
Somethin' ain't just right, there ain't no wind.
Things is in there, don't go in.

Y'all can looky 'round the logs from the outside,
See, see 'em move, see them shaders flit and jump?
Don't even think o' stickin' yer nose close to the chink,
Them things will a-get ye nose.

I heerd tell of a youngin' what was sent out late,
Sent to get peppered bacon for next mornin's fare.
His dang brother shut the door on the lil feller.
In the dark, he saw them things in there.

His Mama heerd him scream, beg to be let out,
When that older boy was sent to open the door...
He weren't there, was gone, not a hair.
Them things in there, they took 'em.

All the youngin's reckoned he was a foolin'
Somewhere laughin' an' waitin' fer a while.
Later, his Mama sent 'em out into the weeds an' bushes,
But he weren't there...them things was though, I know.

Now y'all can laugh an' make a lot o' fun,
I know it don't make no sense a-tall.
Ain't nothin' in the smokehouse, ye say,
Ye looked this mornin'...cain't see a thing.

But they is things in there,
I don't rightly know if they is spook or haint,
Could be a smokehouse ghost or booger,
But I do know they is things in there.

Want to see, to listen, to take a lil ol' peek?
You'uns come down,now, late at night,
I'll take ye, an' shut ye in the smokehouse fer a while,
Ye can see fer yerself...if things is in there.