Front Porch Memories

When I was a boy of maybe 8 or 10 we was visitin' my Grandpa and Grandma Hollen over to Little Creek in Clay County, Kentucky. (Mind you now, this was before Route 66 crossed right through their land within 20 yards of their home.)
I remember it was early summer. My little brother an' I was playin' in the front room - the room that was combination sittin' room an' my grandparent's bedroom. Daddy, Grandpa an' Uncle Bert were out back. Mama an' Grandma was cookin' dinner (that's lunch for you city folks. In the mountains we had breakfast, dinner an' supper.)
I heard a "halloo" called up from the front yardt an' went to the screen door. A neighbor couple was standin' there with their 5 year old daughter in her Daddy's arms. Her foot was wrapped in a towel an' blood had stained through the cloth. He asked if Uncle Bert or my Daddy was around and I said "yessir, hold on a minute".
I ran inside an' told Grandma they was out front an' the little gal was bleedin'. I ran out the back door an' called to Uncle Bert an' Daddy to come quick. They came around the house right quick but Grandma had already gone to the porch an' learned the little gal had been tryin' to hoe the garden an' had cut her foot somethin' terrible.
They wrapped her foot an' walked way over a mile down the creek to ask if Uncle Bert could take them over to Red Bird Mission Hospital. Grandma asked them to come sit for a They wouldn't come up on the porch to sit for a minute. They said no, they didn't want blood to get on the wood boards of the porch.
While Daddy an' Uncle Bert went in to put shirts on, gather up their wallets an' keys, Grandma found some clean cloth an' they rewrapped the little ol' gal's foot. I was right there watchin' an' it was so deep, so bad, still bleedin' hard.
Grandma went in again, washed her hands,got out some leftover biscuits, cut 'em open an' filled each with either sausage or bacon leftover from breakfast. She handed them to me (after she made me wash my hands) an' sent me out to give them to the neighbors. She knew the wait at the hospital would be long.
They were so grateful. Both the Daddy an' Mama thanked Grandma over an' over. The little ol' gal was so bashful she kept her face hidden on her Daddy's chest, but turned toward me to say "thank ye" as I handed her a biscuit.
They went in Daddy's car instead of Uncle Bert's truck since it had more room. I went back to playin' with my little brother. Grandpa went out to sit on the porch, Grandma an' Mama went back to the kitchen to continue to prepare dinner.
It was late in the evenin', long after dark when we saw Daddy's car come up the creek an' continue on past the house takin' the neighbors home. Mama let us stay up till Daddy came home.
We was all sittin' in the dark waitin' for them to return an' to hear news of the little girl. I remember tendrils of smoke from the gnat smoke wanderin' this way an' that as I fanned it. Lightnin' bugs danced in the dark an' tree frogs sang all round us.
Grandma was the first to see the headlights of Daddy's car way down the creek an' ask, "Reckon that is Jim's car?" It was, of course. No one else had much reason to drive up Little Creek through the rough creek bed late in the evenin'.
A few minutes later we all spied the headlights comin' back down the creek an' up the hill to Grandpa's house. When Daddy an' Uncle Bert was a' gettin' out of the car Grandma was already callin', "How is that youngin'?".
They came up, sat down an' both rolled a cigarette as they told the story in tandem. Daddy said she had a bunch of stitches in her foot but she would be fine. Uncle Bert chuckled an' said folks all over the hospital could hear her cryin' an' screamin' as they cleaned up her foot (she had been barefooted) an' then stitched it up. He laughed, "Folks probably thought they was a'sawin' it off instead of stitchin' it up.".
We all laughed an' I sat quiet as the grown folks talked about the family, "good folks", "Now who's her people", "His Daddy still goes to church over the the Hard Shell Baptist Church up on Gilbert's Creek".
Later Mama told me an' my brother it was time for bed. We grumbled, hugged necks, said our "good nights" and wandered off to crawl under the quilts on the ol' iron bed.
The grown folks stayed up for a right smart while longer. I could hear their voices in the dark, could smell the gnat smoke, (a piece of rolled up cotton still smolderin' to keep away the bitin' bugs), mixed with the smoke from hand rolled cigarettes. As I laid there I wished I was grown so I could stay up an' hear the secrets they told when the youngin's was gone to bed.

Aunt Bessie's Fudge

One of my favorite memories of my Aunt Bessie (Hollen) Box was her fudge. Sometimes it would be perfect an' wonderful. Sometimes it would be almost right but "soupy" as she'd say. I remember times when she would call, "Steve, I've made fudge and it's soupy. Come on over an' grab a spoon."

Oh my, we would sit with spoons in hand, scoopin' up soupy fudge, talkin' an' laughin' for ever so long. Eventually she would get up an' make us each a glass of Lipton Instant Tea to wash the sweet chocolate down.

Lordy, she could cook. Fried chicken, pork chops, fried taters, green beans cooked low an' slow with a little pig meat. She canned so many things. I remember goin' several times to a local farm and we picked bushels of green beans. We sat outside an' broke beans all day. We'd wash them an' put them in jars. As her pressure cooker would finish one batch a new load would go in, jar after jar all day. 

She didn't use recipes when she canned or cooked. I helped her make kraut an' pickled green tomatoes, tryin' to learn her recipe. The palm of her hand was her measurin' spoon. Her measurements were "a handful", "just a little bit" or "just a pinch or two". 

I never learned to can like her. Oh, I can follow a recipe and do fine, but no one will ever can a jar of green beans like my Aunt Bessie did.

Daddy Memories

Today would have been my Daddy, Jimmie Hollen's 91st birthday. He was a grand man, honest, humble, good an' kind. He didn't believe in talkin' bad about folks. Didn't care for gossip. Not much of a talker at all.

I remember the last time I stayed all night at their place. Mom had sinus surgery in the middle of March, 2004 and went back to the hospital the same because she started hemorrhagin'. 

Daddy stayed with her all day without anythin' to eat. I was workin' out of town, about an hour away. Daddy wasn't much for usin' a telephone. When the hospital contacted me I came immediately and Daddy had been there with Mom, never leavin' her side since mornin'. There was a restaurant in the hospital an' I was able to get him somethin' to eat.

I decided to take him home and stay the night with him after they admitted Mom. He just had not been feelin' well. We stopped at Captain D's restaurant an' we both ordered fried catfish, hushpuppies and fries. Daddy ate like he was starvin'.

"Pretty good, huh Pappy?"

"Yeah man!" was his reply.

What I didn't know, what none of us knew was he was already dyin'. Cancer was spread all over his body. Just weeks later the Dr. thought he had bronchitis and he was on strong antibiotics. He went to the hospital on April 4th, 2004 an' died 41 days later. 

Just 41 days to tell him a lifetime's worth of love, care and thankfulness.

I've never forgotten that evening with him, him makin' sure the bed in the spare room was made up. Layin' there and sayin' "Good night Pappy" one last time as I laid me down to sleep.

Thanks Be

4:30 a.m. and I have been awake for a while already. Coffee is hot, sweet with sugar and pumpkin spice creamer (my only cup today or any day.
A day of giving thanks. 

First I am Thankful for my Lord and the Grace He showed AND shows to me. For the woman I love, Oh My Darlin', our kids, Kelly, Morgan and Mark, who are all grown and gone, but never far away with lives of their own. For their good health, good minds. 

Sometimes raising them was like juggling cats, chuckle. There was and is nothing I loved more than sitting at the supper table as our little family, holding hands and praying.

And our grandsons, Chase and Chandler. I never understood the love and strength of a grandparent till I was one. Blessed with the memory of the 4 minute backyard camp out. I am blessed.

We were both blessed with Christian parents who loved us, took us to Church and showed us how to live a Christian life. I am thankful for their love, their lives, their examples. Mildred and Linc who took care of my Darlin', who raised her to be the woman I love. To my Mom, with all her little flaws, who prayed for two boys and then loved them, AND because she made a promise to God, took them to Church by herself till Daddy became a Christian. My Daddy, quiet, humble and unassuming, my hero. How I miss him, how I was blessed to be his son. I was doubly blessed.

Can't forget my little brother Mike. Neither of us are little anymore, both have passed those birthdays we don't brag about anymore. We were always "Those Hollen boys"... (ornery, into everything and racing through childhood side by side as little boys) And I won't forget his family. I am blessed.

Oh, and for my extended family, Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, Great Aunts and Uncles and Cousins, lots and lots of Cousins on both sides as I was growing up, always around, always near, always full of love for me. I am thankful for each of them. I had no idea that not everyone counted even third cousins as "immediate family". So many gone now. How I miss them. As I sit here this morning I see in my mind's eye Thanksgivings past, food heaped high, Uncles and Aunts, Grandparents gathered around tables with heads bowed, giving thanks. I see Aunts with their back to us, cooking and talking, happy to care for those they loved. And I see simple meals, pork neck bones, fried taters, greens, corn bread and work worn hands sharing all they had. I am blessed.

I have been particularly blessed by pretty good health, a sound, creative and inquisitive mind, a Gift of Voice, given by God when He called me to serve Him. Yes, I am blessed daily by Him

I am thankful for a life full of several careers along the way, for those who had faith in me and hired me, yep, even for those who mourned with me as the economy caused them to let me go. I wouldn't be a full time storyteller today if not for that crash a few years ago. "In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." I Thessalonians 5:18 (I didn't always see the blessings that came from hardships, but am thankful for hindsight and the ability to see God's hands)

Did I mention Oh My Darlin', my Linda Lou, who loves me, puts up with my multiple personalities, takes care of me, who is my best friend, who encourages me, who is THERE. Boy, always being there counts for a lot, doesn't it? I am thankful I am growing old with her by my side.

Thankful for my high school roomie, best friend for life, prayer partner back then and co-conspirator. The only boy I knew who actually had blue suede shoes, who introduced me to Sam and Dave, to Otis Redding, who would sneak to my dresser and snitch my "Goober Jelly" (jelly and peanut butter in the same jar). He who would lay in bed across the room and talk till the early morning hours about girls, life, the future, Jesus, God and pretty much anything else that came to our minds... Bob Clark.

For those along the way who taught me, showed me and illustrated through their voices, their careers, their care and concern how to do what I do; Carolyn Spadafora Cox -High School teacher who introduced me to my voice and the spoken word, Georgetown College professors, Edwina Snyder, Margaret Thornton Greynolds, and especially Joe Ferrell who helped me learn to speak, to feel, to use the instrument of body, emotion, voice and inflection. Frederick Foster who stood on the stage in the old Giddings Hall at Georgetown College in the fall of 1971 (my Freshman year) and spoke the words of a poem (which I no longer remember) into life and made me hope to learn to do the same. And Dr. Hal K Pettegrew, who encouraged me to tell my stories.

For these things, for today, yesterday and my tomorrows, Thank you Lord Jesus. I am blessed.

Dreams an' dusty roads

Y'ever wonder why we visit the ol' places lodged in our memories? Why we drive slow up to an abandoned field where once an ol' log cabin stood?

Do you find yourself smilin' as you drive "down home", grinnin' bigger as you get closer to the ol' homeplace?

Wonder why we sit sometimes an' just daydream of them places we once lived, where Grandma an' Grandpa toiled ever so hard?

Or ponder why sometimes in the deep darkness of night we close our eyes, squinch them real tight like and sift through them mind photos till we find that one place, pull aside the dusty curtains or memory and look, taste, smell and hear the ghosts of what used to be right there?

Oh, if I could find a spot as I wander, maybe just beyond the ol' rusty gate, in back of the abandoned barn, or up the holler where I could shift time an' space and slip through, back to them days, back to them places, back to where we all dream of bein'.

If only I could shed the weary and worn pieces of me an' be a youngin' once more, could run so fast to call out, "Looky here, here I am again!"

What if folks would look up, Grandma, Grandpa or Uncles an' Aunts, Mama an' Daddy, who would chuckle an' say, "Well, we didn't know you was gone."

Maybe run down to the creek an' walk right in, feel the cold water on dusty feet, soles callused so's that them ol rocks an' pebbles didn't even hurt a'tall. Bend over an' grab hold of a crawdad as it backed into the cover of a mossy rock, hold it high in the air an' whoop, hollerin', "Looky here what I caught!".

What if you an' I could find that hidden path back, play in the hills all day, hide an' seekin' in the hollers, an' then go a'runnin' right swift like back to the house when some of the women calls real loud, "Supper, come on y'all, its suppertime."

What if Heaven is just like that? What if closin' our eyes here on earth for the last time, what if that is the door we can slip through to find those things we dream of, where the folks we love are sittin' on the porch an' lookin' down the lane, lookin' for the dust risin' up as we come up the road?

What if the Good Lord is a'waitin' for us an' swings open a big ol' gate that creaks just a bit on the hinges an' says, "I've been wonderin' when you was gonna come on home. Go on now, just over yonder, follow them bright stars south. It ain't too far now. You're almost home. Listen close an' you'll hear folks a whoopin' an' hollerin' your name, cheerin' you on, glad you've finally come home."

Then He smiles an' says, "Well done, My Child. Go on now, youngin', they's a'waitin' supper for you.".