| Biographical Non-Fiction posted February 20, 2011 |
  |
A boys life in the rural South
Family
by bhogg
Author notes - While not technically a novel, there are several preceding stories to this one. The first, called Rabbit, introduces you to my friend Virgil Gates. I met Virgil in 1955 when I was six years old and he was 92. I knew Virgil for the next 4 years, primarily in the summer where I stayed at my grandparents' house in West Central Georgia. Another story is called Virge and the Yellow Jacket war and will further describe our relationship. Simply put, he was the greatest friend I've ever had. He was responsble for my nickname, Rabbit. He once told my grandmother, "He sit there all still and quiet, but dem ol ears and dem ol eyes be movin all the time. Ain't nobody gone get one by de Rabbit." If you are interested in the other posts:
http://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=347401 - Rabbit
http://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=358213 - Virge and the Yellow Jacket War
It wasn't fair. Here it was late August; I had been with my grandma all summer and my older brother John shows up for the week. He was twelve years old, I was ten. Within hours of arrival, he was up to his usual, pushing me around and telling me what to do. Not this time. Fed up with him, I yelled, "Okay, Butt, let's go up behind the old barn. I'm going to kick your ass." He had been kicking mine all my life, but things were about to change.
We got up there and I was prepared. John had on his shorts and tennis shoes. I had on long pants and was wearing my hard leather brogans. Like two wary gladiators, we circled each other in the old cattle pen. He feinted, I feinted and as he tried to move in, I kicked him hard on his right shin. God, his yelp sounded so righteous! My grin was malevolent. As he reached down to grab his leg, I hit him in the side of his head. Thankfully, it was a good start, because it went downhill in a hurry.
John rushed me, knocking me to the ground. Turning me face down, he shoved my head into the mixture of soil and old cow poop. Pinning me securely with his knees, he started to pummel the side of my head and body. It was almost surreal, hearing his hard breathing and the thumping sounds of fists hitting my body. All of a sudden, I heard a voice. "Alright, Mr. John, that's enough. Stop it right now."
John got a couple of more licks in and then I realized he had been lifted off me. It was my old friend, Virge Gates. "Mr. John, I told you that was enough. You just stop now and go on back to the big house."
John stood back and yelled, "Okay, you little punk. I'm going to get you for kicking me in the leg. Your nigger friend ain't going to be there to help you."
Virge turned toward John saying, "Mr. John, I done told you to get on home. If you ain't careful, I might just whup your butt myself."
"Yeah, and if you do, I'll tell my daddy."
Virge laughed. "I wish you would. Your daddy would laugh at you and beat you his own self. Now, get along."
John left and Virge helped me to my feet, brushing dirt off my face. I turned, and loudly complained, "You didn't have to do that. I can take care of myself."
Virge, always the understanding friend, responded, "Rabbit, you was doing pretty good until Mr. John got you down on the ground, but it weren't going to get no better. He had you beat, son. God knows you got the heart, but you just ain't got the size yet. Let's go up to my cabin and get you cleaned up. Your grandma would be upset seeing you brushed up like this."
We walked up to Virge's cabin which was only forty yards or so from the old barn. He sat me down on an old rocker on the front porch and went to his well to pump some water in a bucket. He also filled two tin cups, one for each of us. It was late summer and that water was always so cool. He pulled an old dish cloth from his clothes line. After dipping it into the water, he washed my head and face. "Rabbit, how come you and Mr. John was fighting?"
"Oh, he's such a jerk. He thinks he can do anything he wants. I just told him I didn't have to take any crap off him, so I was going to beat him up."
"You know Mr. John's a lot older and bigger than you?"
"I know, but I thought this time might be different. I'm so tired of him, I feel like killing him. I wish he was dead"
"Now, Rabbit, you don't disappoint old Virge too much, but you don't need to talk like that. Mr. John is your brother. You've got to love your brother. Why don't you ask your grandma if you can go to Church with Carrie and me tomorrow? Sounds like you needs it."
Carrie was Virge's niece. For the last three summers, I went to Church with them about every other Sunday. I was pretty sure it would be okay. When I got home, I asked. "Grandma, can I go to church with Virge tomorrow?"
"Sure, but how come you don't like coming to our Church anymore?"
"I like going to Church with you and Grandpa, but it's more fun going with Virge."
Smiling, my grandma smoothed my hair down. "It's just good that you want to go to Church. I just have this vision in my mind of the preacher looking out and seeing you out there. You must stand out like a marshmallow in a plate full of brownies."
What I didn't tell Grandma was what I liked best. First, it was fun getting there. We had to drive over in Carrie's son's 1949, Ford pick-up. I got to sit in the back, usually with Carrie. When we got there, I loved seeing the choir process in to the Church. They wore robes, and came in clapping their hands and swaying to the song, moving in joyous rhythm. Perhaps my favorite was when Church was over. There was always great food. Virge told me this coming Sunday was hot dog day. They had a large concrete block barbeque pit. They would light the wood at the start of church. When church was over, there would be big, hot coals left. They would throw a pile of hot dogs onto the grill work. When Virge and I took ours off, we both would pick the ones that were just a little bit charred on the outside.
Strange, I can't remember a whole lot about what went on in the middle part. For that, I could have been at Grandma's church. Some old guy would talk about heaven and hell and what sort of things might get you sent one way or the other. Different audience, but the same old stories.
Virge told me this was going to be a special Sunday. It wasn't the regular preacher, but some guy who only came around about twice a year. As Virge said, "He'll knock your ears off. He can talk some strong stuff."
Church started, and after the first song, the preacher started laying it on. I had to take a peek at Virge. The old preacher was talking about Cain and Abel. It crossed my mind that maybe Virge put him up to it. I listened for a minute or two, but it was August. No air conditioning in those days, so in spite of several fans, it got kind of toasty. I was sitting between Virge and Carrie, and sort of leaning into Carrie, I nodded off.
Startled by a loud clapping of hands, I jerked my head up. The preacher pointed a bony finger, at the fullest extension of his arm. I was convinced his finger was pointed right between my eyes. With an abrupt shout, he asked, "Do you want to go to heaven?"
I jumped right up and shouted back, "Yes I do!" That was greeted by a loud chorus of Amen's and a few Hallelujahs. Embarrassed, I sat back down.
After Church, I took my plate of hot dogs and sat by Virge under the canopy of a huge live oak. I had to ask. "Virge, did you put that preacher up to talking about Cain and Abel?"
"No, I didn't, but it did sort of fit. Have you been thinking and praying some about what you said about your brother?"
"Yes I have. I know that I love John, but he sure can be aggravating."
Finished with his lunch, Virge was in the process of filling his pipe with some Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco. He scratched a match and held it up to the pipe. It always fascinated me to watch the flame go down and back up. Taking a puff, Virge said, "I know that Mr. John can be worrisome to you. At the same time, I can tell you that I wish that my brother was around to aggravate me. He died when I was seven years old. I miss him every day."
"Rabbit, we do get to talk from time to time, and it makes me happy that you mostly listen. When you get to be as old as me, you do learn a little. I want to tell you about family. Family is about the most important thing in life. Your brother and momma and daddy, your grandma and grandpa, they are all family, but you got lots more. Family also includes everybody in this world who loves you and you love back. One thing I know for sure is if you ain't got family, you ain't got nothin'. Does that make sense?"
"Yes it does." With a bit of a smile, I asked Virge, "I reckon that makes me and you family?"
With another puff on his pipe, Virge looked at me and replied, "Yeah, Rabbit, I reckon it does."
We both sat there silently, perhaps savoring the moment. I looked at Virge and said, "You know I'll be going back to school in about a week."
Sighing, Virge, answered, "I don't know how it happened, but summer is durn near over."
Even then, I had a fast mouth. "Virge, when I get back to school, do you reckon I should tell my friends that I got me a black brother, or maybe an old black uncle?"
With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle, Virge replied, "Rabbit, if I thought I could catch you, I'd whup you."
Author notes - While not technically a novel, there are several preceding stories to this one. The first, called Rabbit, introduces you to my friend Virgil Gates. I met Virgil in 1955 when I was six years old and he was 92. I knew Virgil for the next 4 years, primarily in the summer where I stayed at my grandparents' house in West Central Georgia. Another story is called Virge and the Yellow Jacket war and will further describe our relationship. Simply put, he was the greatest friend I've ever had. He was responsble for my nickname, Rabbit. He once told my grandmother, "He sit there all still and quiet, but dem ol ears and dem ol eyes be movin all the time. Ain't nobody gone get one by de Rabbit." If you are interested in the other posts:
http://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=347401 - Rabbit
http://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=358213 - Virge and the Yellow Jacket War
It wasn't fair. Here it was late August; I had been with my grandma all summer and my older brother John shows up for the week. He was twelve years old, I was ten. Within hours of arrival, he was up to his usual, pushing me around and telling me what to do. Not this time. Fed up with him, I yelled, "Okay, Butt, let's go up behind the old barn. I'm going to kick your ass." He had been kicking mine all my life, but things were about to change.
We got up there and I was prepared. John had on his shorts and tennis shoes. I had on long pants and was wearing my hard leather brogans. Like two wary gladiators, we circled each other in the old cattle pen. He feinted, I feinted and as he tried to move in, I kicked him hard on his right shin. God, his yelp sounded so righteous! My grin was malevolent. As he reached down to grab his leg, I hit him in the side of his head. Thankfully, it was a good start, because it went downhill in a hurry.
John rushed me, knocking me to the ground. Turning me face down, he shoved my head into the mixture of soil and old cow poop. Pinning me securely with his knees, he started to pummel the side of my head and body. It was almost surreal, hearing his hard breathing and the thumping sounds of fists hitting my body. All of a sudden, I heard a voice. "Alright, Mr. John, that's enough. Stop it right now."
John got a couple of more licks in and then I realized he had been lifted off me. It was my old friend, Virge Gates. "Mr. John, I told you that was enough. You just stop now and go on back to the big house."
John stood back and yelled, "Okay, you little punk. I'm going to get you for kicking me in the leg. Your nigger friend ain't going to be there to help you."
Virge turned toward John saying, "Mr. John, I done told you to get on home. If you ain't careful, I might just whup your butt myself."
"Yeah, and if you do, I'll tell my daddy."
Virge laughed. "I wish you would. Your daddy would laugh at you and beat you his own self. Now, get along."
John left and Virge helped me to my feet, brushing dirt off my face. I turned, and loudly complained, "You didn't have to do that. I can take care of myself."
Virge, always the understanding friend, responded, "Rabbit, you was doing pretty good until Mr. John got you down on the ground, but it weren't going to get no better. He had you beat, son. God knows you got the heart, but you just ain't got the size yet. Let's go up to my cabin and get you cleaned up. Your grandma would be upset seeing you brushed up like this."
We walked up to Virge's cabin which was only forty yards or so from the old barn. He sat me down on an old rocker on the front porch and went to his well to pump some water in a bucket. He also filled two tin cups, one for each of us. It was late summer and that water was always so cool. He pulled an old dish cloth from his clothes line. After dipping it into the water, he washed my head and face. "Rabbit, how come you and Mr. John was fighting?"
"Oh, he's such a jerk. He thinks he can do anything he wants. I just told him I didn't have to take any crap off him, so I was going to beat him up."
"You know Mr. John's a lot older and bigger than you?"
"I know, but I thought this time might be different. I'm so tired of him, I feel like killing him. I wish he was dead"
"Now, Rabbit, you don't disappoint old Virge too much, but you don't need to talk like that. Mr. John is your brother. You've got to love your brother. Why don't you ask your grandma if you can go to Church with Carrie and me tomorrow? Sounds like you needs it."
Carrie was Virge's niece. For the last three summers, I went to Church with them about every other Sunday. I was pretty sure it would be okay. When I got home, I asked. "Grandma, can I go to church with Virge tomorrow?"
"Sure, but how come you don't like coming to our Church anymore?"
"I like going to Church with you and Grandpa, but it's more fun going with Virge."
Smiling, my grandma smoothed my hair down. "It's just good that you want to go to Church. I just have this vision in my mind of the preacher looking out and seeing you out there. You must stand out like a marshmallow in a plate full of brownies."
What I didn't tell Grandma was what I liked best. First, it was fun getting there. We had to drive over in Carrie's son's 1949, Ford pick-up. I got to sit in the back, usually with Carrie. When we got there, I loved seeing the choir process in to the Church. They wore robes, and came in clapping their hands and swaying to the song, moving in joyous rhythm. Perhaps my favorite was when Church was over. There was always great food. Virge told me this coming Sunday was hot dog day. They had a large concrete block barbeque pit. They would light the wood at the start of church. When church was over, there would be big, hot coals left. They would throw a pile of hot dogs onto the grill work. When Virge and I took ours off, we both would pick the ones that were just a little bit charred on the outside.
Strange, I can't remember a whole lot about what went on in the middle part. For that, I could have been at Grandma's church. Some old guy would talk about heaven and hell and what sort of things might get you sent one way or the other. Different audience, but the same old stories.
Virge told me this was going to be a special Sunday. It wasn't the regular preacher, but some guy who only came around about twice a year. As Virge said, "He'll knock your ears off. He can talk some strong stuff."
Church started, and after the first song, the preacher started laying it on. I had to take a peek at Virge. The old preacher was talking about Cain and Abel. It crossed my mind that maybe Virge put him up to it. I listened for a minute or two, but it was August. No air conditioning in those days, so in spite of several fans, it got kind of toasty. I was sitting between Virge and Carrie, and sort of leaning into Carrie, I nodded off.
Startled by a loud clapping of hands, I jerked my head up. The preacher pointed a bony finger, at the fullest extension of his arm. I was convinced his finger was pointed right between my eyes. With an abrupt shout, he asked, "Do you want to go to heaven?"
I jumped right up and shouted back, "Yes I do!" That was greeted by a loud chorus of Amen's and a few Hallelujahs. Embarrassed, I sat back down.
After Church, I took my plate of hot dogs and sat by Virge under the canopy of a huge live oak. I had to ask. "Virge, did you put that preacher up to talking about Cain and Abel?"
"No, I didn't, but it did sort of fit. Have you been thinking and praying some about what you said about your brother?"
"Yes I have. I know that I love John, but he sure can be aggravating."
Finished with his lunch, Virge was in the process of filling his pipe with some Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco. He scratched a match and held it up to the pipe. It always fascinated me to watch the flame go down and back up. Taking a puff, Virge said, "I know that Mr. John can be worrisome to you. At the same time, I can tell you that I wish that my brother was around to aggravate me. He died when I was seven years old. I miss him every day."
"Rabbit, we do get to talk from time to time, and it makes me happy that you mostly listen. When you get to be as old as me, you do learn a little. I want to tell you about family. Family is about the most important thing in life. Your brother and momma and daddy, your grandma and grandpa, they are all family, but you got lots more. Family also includes everybody in this world who loves you and you love back. One thing I know for sure is if you ain't got family, you ain't got nothin'. Does that make sense?"
"Yes it does." With a bit of a smile, I asked Virge, "I reckon that makes me and you family?"
With another puff on his pipe, Virge looked at me and replied, "Yeah, Rabbit, I reckon it does."
We both sat there silently, perhaps savoring the moment. I looked at Virge and said, "You know I'll be going back to school in about a week."
Sighing, Virge, answered, "I don't know how it happened, but summer is durn near over."
Even then, I had a fast mouth. "Virge, when I get back to school, do you reckon I should tell my friends that I got me a black brother, or maybe an old black uncle?"
With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle, Virge replied, "Rabbit, if I thought I could catch you, I'd whup you."
http://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=347401 - Rabbit
http://www.fanstory.com/displaystory.jsp?id=358213 - Virge and the Yellow Jacket War
It wasn't fair. Here it was late August; I had been with my grandma all summer and my older brother John shows up for the week. He was twelve years old, I was ten. Within hours of arrival, he was up to his usual, pushing me around and telling me what to do. Not this time. Fed up with him, I yelled, "Okay, Butt, let's go up behind the old barn. I'm going to kick your ass." He had been kicking mine all my life, but things were about to change.
We got up there and I was prepared. John had on his shorts and tennis shoes. I had on long pants and was wearing my hard leather brogans. Like two wary gladiators, we circled each other in the old cattle pen. He feinted, I feinted and as he tried to move in, I kicked him hard on his right shin. God, his yelp sounded so righteous! My grin was malevolent. As he reached down to grab his leg, I hit him in the side of his head. Thankfully, it was a good start, because it went downhill in a hurry.
John rushed me, knocking me to the ground. Turning me face down, he shoved my head into the mixture of soil and old cow poop. Pinning me securely with his knees, he started to pummel the side of my head and body. It was almost surreal, hearing his hard breathing and the thumping sounds of fists hitting my body. All of a sudden, I heard a voice. "Alright, Mr. John, that's enough. Stop it right now."
John got a couple of more licks in and then I realized he had been lifted off me. It was my old friend, Virge Gates. "Mr. John, I told you that was enough. You just stop now and go on back to the big house."
John stood back and yelled, "Okay, you little punk. I'm going to get you for kicking me in the leg. Your nigger friend ain't going to be there to help you."
Virge turned toward John saying, "Mr. John, I done told you to get on home. If you ain't careful, I might just whup your butt myself."
"Yeah, and if you do, I'll tell my daddy."
Virge laughed. "I wish you would. Your daddy would laugh at you and beat you his own self. Now, get along."
John left and Virge helped me to my feet, brushing dirt off my face. I turned, and loudly complained, "You didn't have to do that. I can take care of myself."
Virge, always the understanding friend, responded, "Rabbit, you was doing pretty good until Mr. John got you down on the ground, but it weren't going to get no better. He had you beat, son. God knows you got the heart, but you just ain't got the size yet. Let's go up to my cabin and get you cleaned up. Your grandma would be upset seeing you brushed up like this."
We walked up to Virge's cabin which was only forty yards or so from the old barn. He sat me down on an old rocker on the front porch and went to his well to pump some water in a bucket. He also filled two tin cups, one for each of us. It was late summer and that water was always so cool. He pulled an old dish cloth from his clothes line. After dipping it into the water, he washed my head and face. "Rabbit, how come you and Mr. John was fighting?"
"Oh, he's such a jerk. He thinks he can do anything he wants. I just told him I didn't have to take any crap off him, so I was going to beat him up."
"You know Mr. John's a lot older and bigger than you?"
"I know, but I thought this time might be different. I'm so tired of him, I feel like killing him. I wish he was dead"
"Now, Rabbit, you don't disappoint old Virge too much, but you don't need to talk like that. Mr. John is your brother. You've got to love your brother. Why don't you ask your grandma if you can go to Church with Carrie and me tomorrow? Sounds like you needs it."
Carrie was Virge's niece. For the last three summers, I went to Church with them about every other Sunday. I was pretty sure it would be okay. When I got home, I asked. "Grandma, can I go to church with Virge tomorrow?"
"Sure, but how come you don't like coming to our Church anymore?"
"I like going to Church with you and Grandpa, but it's more fun going with Virge."
Smiling, my grandma smoothed my hair down. "It's just good that you want to go to Church. I just have this vision in my mind of the preacher looking out and seeing you out there. You must stand out like a marshmallow in a plate full of brownies."
What I didn't tell Grandma was what I liked best. First, it was fun getting there. We had to drive over in Carrie's son's 1949, Ford pick-up. I got to sit in the back, usually with Carrie. When we got there, I loved seeing the choir process in to the Church. They wore robes, and came in clapping their hands and swaying to the song, moving in joyous rhythm. Perhaps my favorite was when Church was over. There was always great food. Virge told me this coming Sunday was hot dog day. They had a large concrete block barbeque pit. They would light the wood at the start of church. When church was over, there would be big, hot coals left. They would throw a pile of hot dogs onto the grill work. When Virge and I took ours off, we both would pick the ones that were just a little bit charred on the outside.
Strange, I can't remember a whole lot about what went on in the middle part. For that, I could have been at Grandma's church. Some old guy would talk about heaven and hell and what sort of things might get you sent one way or the other. Different audience, but the same old stories.
Virge told me this was going to be a special Sunday. It wasn't the regular preacher, but some guy who only came around about twice a year. As Virge said, "He'll knock your ears off. He can talk some strong stuff."
Church started, and after the first song, the preacher started laying it on. I had to take a peek at Virge. The old preacher was talking about Cain and Abel. It crossed my mind that maybe Virge put him up to it. I listened for a minute or two, but it was August. No air conditioning in those days, so in spite of several fans, it got kind of toasty. I was sitting between Virge and Carrie, and sort of leaning into Carrie, I nodded off.
Startled by a loud clapping of hands, I jerked my head up. The preacher pointed a bony finger, at the fullest extension of his arm. I was convinced his finger was pointed right between my eyes. With an abrupt shout, he asked, "Do you want to go to heaven?"
I jumped right up and shouted back, "Yes I do!" That was greeted by a loud chorus of Amen's and a few Hallelujahs. Embarrassed, I sat back down.
After Church, I took my plate of hot dogs and sat by Virge under the canopy of a huge live oak. I had to ask. "Virge, did you put that preacher up to talking about Cain and Abel?"
"No, I didn't, but it did sort of fit. Have you been thinking and praying some about what you said about your brother?"
"Yes I have. I know that I love John, but he sure can be aggravating."
Finished with his lunch, Virge was in the process of filling his pipe with some Sir Walter Raleigh tobacco. He scratched a match and held it up to the pipe. It always fascinated me to watch the flame go down and back up. Taking a puff, Virge said, "I know that Mr. John can be worrisome to you. At the same time, I can tell you that I wish that my brother was around to aggravate me. He died when I was seven years old. I miss him every day."
"Rabbit, we do get to talk from time to time, and it makes me happy that you mostly listen. When you get to be as old as me, you do learn a little. I want to tell you about family. Family is about the most important thing in life. Your brother and momma and daddy, your grandma and grandpa, they are all family, but you got lots more. Family also includes everybody in this world who loves you and you love back. One thing I know for sure is if you ain't got family, you ain't got nothin'. Does that make sense?"
"Yes it does." With a bit of a smile, I asked Virge, "I reckon that makes me and you family?"
With another puff on his pipe, Virge looked at me and replied, "Yeah, Rabbit, I reckon it does."
We both sat there silently, perhaps savoring the moment. I looked at Virge and said, "You know I'll be going back to school in about a week."
Sighing, Virge, answered, "I don't know how it happened, but summer is durn near over."
Even then, I had a fast mouth. "Virge, when I get back to school, do you reckon I should tell my friends that I got me a black brother, or maybe an old black uncle?"
With a twinkle in his eye and a chuckle, Virge replied, "Rabbit, if I thought I could catch you, I'd whup you."
 Recognized |
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Lot's of errors, hopefully, most in trying to recreate the Southern dialect I still hear to this day!
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