Papa

“Papa’s back! Papa’s back! Look, Speck!”

We’d been sitting on a soft, grassy spot in the yard watching honeybees on clover blooms. Daddy had put my swing set under the pecan trees, so I’d have a cool place to play. Today he had put a smooth, river rock beside me, along with a small hammer. I had been busy trying to crack some pecans to eat. It was a slow go and I figured I’d starve to death if this is all I had to eat. It was a good thing I’d heard Papa’s old blue truck rattling over the hill towards home, because I’d managed to hit my fingers several times while I was shelling pecans and I needed to take a break.

Speck was excited too. Maybe he wasn’t sure exactly why, but he was howling and barking and running with me toward the house. Chickens scattered, running under the front porch, flying up in trees, disappearing under bushes, and the rooster just stood there wondering what just happened. He wasn’t sure which way to look first.

By the time Old Blue had come to a stop, but before the dust cloud had settled, I was opening Papa’s door and giving him a big hug. Papa was my Daddy’s Daddy and lived with us.

“You’ve been gone forever, Papa! What did you see? Where did you go? Did you bring me anything? I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Gwyn. I don’t think I ever want to leave Alabama again. I’m not built for long trips and although I’ve seen some beautiful mountains, Sand Mountain is the prettiest one of all.”

“Did you have fun? Tell me something funny that happened.”

“Well, one thing does come to mind that I thought was funny. I went to visit my Daddy’s brother, his name is Wilbur, and he lives in Texas. It was a big city, bigger than anything we have around here. It’s so big they have people who just do one thing. For example, police don’t catch dogs, dog catchers don’t haul garbage, things like that. One morning I got up and three police cars had parked on the side of the street just down from Uncle Wilbur’s house. They had their blue lights going and everything. I was curious about what was going on, so I wandered on down that way. I could see something laying in the road but couldn’t tell what it was, so I asked another man who had come out to see what was going on.”

“Was it a wreck? Was someone hurt?” I asked.

“No, and it was the strangest thing. Do you know what those three police cars had blocked the road to protect people from? Fish!”

“Fish?”

“Fish! Laying on the side of the road, like someone just poured them out there. And if having police there to stand guard wasn’t strange enough, do you know what happened next?”

“No, what?”

“They called in a huge tractor with a front-end loader bucket on the front to clean them up. That’s what they call their ‘Street Department’.”

“How many fish was there? Like a truck bed full?”

“No! Maybe a dozen, maybe a few less. It took three cars of policemen, one giant front-end loader, one man to drive it, and one man to shovel the fish into the huge tractor bucket. All to get a few fish off the side of the road.”

“That’s how they do things in the big city? Maybe they don’t see fish enough to even know what they are? Reckon they was afraid of them, Papa?”

“I just won’t ever understand why the first person who found them didn’t just shovel them into a trash can and save everyone a lot of trouble.” 

We both just shook our heads kind of slow and started for the house. City people did things different than we did.

“Papa, I’ve surely missed going on adventures. Daddy works and Mama is afraid to drive so I’ve been right here since you left. Grandmother did come and stay until this morning, but she doesn’t drive either. She milked the cow though. It took her a time or two, but her and Buttercup got an understanding.”

Papa scratched his stubble of chin whiskers and said, “I’ve been thinking of going to Black Creek fishing and I think I’ll see if Ruby would like to go with us. She hasn’t been on a fishing trip for quite a while.”

“Oh boy! I like Aunt Ruby. She’s lots of fun. Is she older than you?”

“No, she’s the baby of the family. Our Mama died a few weeks after Ruby’s birth, so since Donna was the oldest, she pretty much raised her. Papa would leave us kids at home for weeks at a time when he left to find work and Donna and John would have to take care of the rest of us. Ruby spent the first year of her life sleeping in a dresser drawer. It’s a wonder she hadn’t died, but Donna pulled her through. Well, Donna and God did.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Papa.”

“Me too, Gwyn. Home looks mighty good. Let’s go in and see Louise and Ben.”

The next day was Saturday, so not only would Aunt Ruby go fishing with us, but Mama and Daddy too. We would all go in Papa’s Ole Blue, because that way we could carry the cane fishing poles plus the rod and reels. There was no way those cane poles would fit in the trunk of the car. That’s what Daddy said.

“Are we going fiddling for worms this morning, Papa?”

“No, we don’t have to because Ruby says she has dug up plenty for all of us to fish with.”

“Okay, but I like worm hunting, ‘specially walking through the woods, listening to the birds and squirrels in the trees. Except for that mean old electric fence at Uncle Calvin’s. Daddy, can I ride in the back of the truck with Papa and Aunt Ruby?”

“Sure. If you’ll stay sitting down with your back against the cab of the truck.”

“Oh, I’ve got the truck bed all fixed up special for today.”

“What do you mean Papa?”

“Just get up here and look.”

He swung me up and over the tailgate of the truck and there, against the cab of the truck, sat an extra seat. It was plenty big for two or three people to sit on. This was gonna be fun!

“Oh boy! Let’s go!”

“As soon as Louise gets here, we will be ready to ride. Me and you will sit in the back and Ruby can ride up front if she wants to. Here comes Louise and it looks like she’s got a bag full of food for us to eat while we’re there.”

Mama and Daddy got in the cab of the truck, while I sat with Papa in the back. Daddy turned the key and we started our trip in a puff of blue smoke, courtesy of Ole Blue needing a tune-up. It didn’t take but a minute or so to get to Aunt Ruby’s house.

“Shake a leg, Sister. We don’t have all day.”

“Just don’t you be trying to rush me. I’ve only got one speed and it’s not fast.”

Aunt Ruby put her fishing rod in the bed of the truck, along with her tackle box and a can full of worms she had dug up with her shovel just that morning. That meant they were still fresh, squirmy, and moist. She wore a yellow cotton dress that had tiny pink and white flowers scattered all over the material. Cotton was about the coolest thing a body could wear during the hot summer months, but underneath her pretty dress, she had on a tan pair of men’s pants. I’d never seen anybody do that before, because usually women wore dresses, even if they were fishing or working in the fields. It didn’t make no never mind to me, and anyways, I wore overalls so it was kind of the same thing. Sort of, I think.

Papa secured that extra seat so it didn’t move around not one little bit, and what an improvement over sitting on the rutted, hot metal of the truck bed. Aunt Ruby rode up front with Mama and Daddy, but me and Papa had the most fun because the wind was whipping around us and keeping us cool. In no time at all we had bounced our way to Black Creek. Let the adventure begin!

“Come here young’un and I’ll help you down. Then I’ll get our fishing stuff out.”

Papa hopped down from that truck even faster than me. Everybody else got out and ready to go at a slower pace.

“I’ll carry our fishing poles and your tackle box, Ruby. You just carry the worms and follow us. It’s pretty steep from up here on the road and down to the creek and be watchful of the little rocks on the trail. Nobody ever works on this to make it easier to get down.”

“Just don’t worry about me, Brother. I’m still two years younger than you and haven’t forgotten how to fish or walk down to a creek.” She picked up her fishing rod and can of worms and down the dirt road we went. 

Papa stepped through the barbed wire fence first, as usual, and held a gap open for Mama and Aunt Ruby to slip through. Daddy did the same for me and then brought up cow’s tail. That means he was last.

Just as I made it through the fence and straightened back up, I heard a strange noise coming from somewhere in front of me and from behind the big pine tree. I looked around and what to my wonderment did I see? There went Aunt Ruby, headfirst, toes marking a trail into the mountain’s rich dirt as she went on her belly down the hill. It was a good thing she’d put on that pair of pants under her dress, or we all would have seen way too much. It was over in just a few seconds, but I was replaying the whole thing inside my head after she finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, tangled up in blackberry briers and dead leaves.

For an old woman, she popped up from the ground pretty fast. After pushing her light blue bonnet up and out of her eyes and spitting out several twigs and leaves, she said, “My worms! My worms! Where are my worms?”

I started to giggle at the sight of Aunt Ruby standing there, her bonnet still sideways on her head, after digging a trench down the mountain with her toes, worrying about nothing but her fishing worms. About the time my giggles became out-loud laughing, Daddy nudged me with his elbow and gave a look that let me know this might not be the right time to enjoy a belly laugh at Aunt Ruby’s expense. I guess maybe we needed to make sure she was okay first. The laughter just dried up, but it would come back later when I talked to Mama about it. She liked to laugh too.

“Here’s the worms, Ruby. Are you sure you’re okay? A few more inches and you’d have been swimming in the creek with the fish, but you managed to hold on to that can of worms all the way to the bottom.” Papa was trying to hide his smile as he said it but wasn’t doing a very good job.

“I’m fine, Orvil. Just go on and laugh because I can see you want to.”

“Oh no! I would never laugh at the clumsiness of my sister.”

“I wasn’t clumsy! The sun blinded me, and I tripped on a rock. Next thing I know I'm snorting mountain dirt up my nose and blazing a new path down the hill. Now let’s fish.”

“Yes, dear sister. You lead the way. Then I’ll know to pull you from the creek if you fall in.”

Aunt Ruby made a funny face at him and started laughing, then we all laughed with her.  I reckon that must be how brothers and sisters are with each other. We all finally found a spot to sit and settled in for fishing.

“Here, Gwyn. I brought an extra rod and reel. You can try and see how you like it.”

Usually, I would be using a cane pole. My heart soared as I put that squiggly worm on the hook. I’d send that worm clear across the creek to the shade on the other side. Look out catfish! Here it comes!

I stood up, put the fishing rod over my shoulder, gave it a sling, and waited to watch it “plop” on the other side. And I waited some more. Where was that worm?

Finally, I looked up. Straight up over my head the worm dangled from its line, hung on the tree limb directly over me. I tugged on the line, but it wouldn’t come down.

“Daddy, my line is hung. Will you get it loose?”

After reeling in his line, he came over to help me.

“Now just how in tarnation did you manage to get the hook up there?”

After a sharp tug or two the line came loose from the tree limb, with the worm still on the hook, Daddy handed the rod to me, went back to his spot, and sat down.

I checked the worm to make sure it still wiggled on the hook, put the pole over my shoulder once again and let it fly. “Go little worm.” That’s what I thought, as I waited for it to hit the water on the far side of the creek.

I waited, but I heard no plop. No kerplunk. Looking up into the thick limbs of the oak tree above me, I cringed inside. After several unsuccessful attempts to untangle the line, I did what had to be done.

“Daddy? Will you get my line down for me?”

“Again?”

Mama said, “Well, you did ask her how she did it the first time. Now you know.” She said it with a smile on her face. That made things better and even Daddy grinned.

“I’m going back to using the cane pole. I’ve been here forever and haven’t got to fish yet.”

Daddy nodded and said, “I think that’s a wonderful idea. There’s lots of trees around here that get in the way.”

He went back to his spot again, and I got down to serious fishing.

It was peaceful sitting on the creek’s bank, listening to the July Flies singing to each other in the trees overhead. Nobody talked much at first. I reckon we all just enjoyed watching the muddy water of Black Creek make its way slowly downstream. Today, the water looked more like chocolate milk than anything else, not only because of the color, but it looked thick too. Some days were like that on the creek, and on days like this, even though the water didn’t move fast, it still managed to pick up rotting logs from somewhere upstream and swirl them on their journey farther south.

“Look, Aunt Ruby! There’s a turtle on that log way over on the other side. I reckon it’s sunning itself for a while. Papa told me he use to go turtle hunting on this creek when he was a little boy. Did you go with them?” I loved to hear stories of when Papa and his brothers and sisters grew up, and I figured Aunt Ruby had some new ones I hadn’t heard.

“No, Gwyn. I don’t recollect actually going in the water turtle hunting. When I got old enough to tag along after them, I believe my job was to run for help when they did something that got them in trouble, or something dangerous. That’s what they told me anyway.  I was the youngest in the family, but Orvil and Calvin were the two youngest boys, so we played together and tromped through the woods together. They always took good care of me, but there was a few times I had to run for John or Donna because something happened to them.”

“Oh yes, she spent her time with Calvin and me. All the time, and I do mean all the time.” Papa laughed as he said it.

“You wouldn’t have changed a thing and you know it.” She said.

“Tell me a story, Aunt Ruby. What happened that you had to go get help?”

“I remember one time y'all had managed to sneak off without me, but I knew which way you had gone so I followed. I wasn’t but a few minutes behind, but by the time I caught up what a sight I found.”

“Now just what story are you fixin’ to tell, I wonder. Very seldom did we get into trouble.” Papa was laughing when he said it.

“This time I think trouble found you. There was a clearing in the middle of the woods where our old cow would eat grass. In the middle of that clearing was one lonesome, pitiful, little oak tree. It might have measured a foot across, but not very tall because the top had broken out at some point in its life. It was just a short, stubby tree. Well guess what was roosting in that tree, Gwyn?”

“What? A buzzard?”

“Two buzzards, by the names of Calvin and Orvil.” She laughed so hard when she said it, she snorted through her nose, which made us all laugh.

“Why was they in a tree?”

“Back when we was young, dogs use to have what they called running fits. It would just come on them real sudden and they’d just start running. I don’t know what caused it, but everybody was afraid of it.  A shaggy, brown, stray dog had started running in circles around Orvil and Calvin, so they climbed the only tree that was close enough. Apparently, your Papa was the first to start climbing, because he was on top and there was Calvin under him, clinging to the trunk of the tree.  Now his feet couldn’t have been more than three feet off the ground, and he was butting the bottom of Orvil’s feet with the top of his head and saying in the most pitiful voice, ‘Go higher! Go higher!’ He couldn’t go up anymore because that tree was just a tall stump with a few green leaves at the top. I turned around and ran to get John, but I laughed a few times on the way whenever I pictured that dog running in circles at the bottom of that tree and Calvin’s feet nearly brushing the top of its head every trip it made around.”

“What happened then? When you got back?” I’d never heard of a dog having running fits.

“I didn’t go back. I just told John where it was and he went.”

“Do you remember, Papa?”

“I sure do. We never wore shoes in the summer so the soles of our feet was fairly raw from hugging that tree for so long, not to mention how tired our arms were. When that dog decided to run away, we was so worn out we slid down the trunk of that tree and rested our backs against it. Just too tired to move.”

Aunt Ruby said, “I wonder what made dogs do that? Poor things. We didn’t have doctors for dogs where we lived, and didn’t have any money to pay one if there had been. It was a full-time job trying to take care of each other.”

“That’s the truth, Ruby. That’s the honest truth. We all grew up trying to take care of each other. We sure didn’t have anyone else around to do it. Don’t seem like Daddy stayed home much after Mama passed away. I wish you could’ve known her. Fact is, at barely two when we lost her, I don’t remember her either. I only know her through the stories Donna and John told us about her. They’ve both described her as tall and on the skinny side, soft spoken, and that she worked from daylight to bedtime. She had a hard life but managed to show her love to everyone by a simple touch on the arm or a fast hug as she walked by.”

“Well Brother, at least God blessed us with Donna for a sister and John for a brother, because where would we have been without them?”

“True. John taught me how to fish, and I’m about to show you how it’s done.”

“Ha!” said Aunt Ruby, and the challenge was on!

Mama didn’t care much for fishing. I guess maybe she figured somebody needed clean hands to manage the food. Seemed to me she usually did that job. Like when Daddy built a small campfire to heat hot dogs and marshmallows, Mama was the one to put them on the stick for us to hold over the flames. Everything seems to taste better when you eat it outside, ‘specially if you cook it on a campfire. 

During a fishing trip was one of the rare times we bought anything from the store to drink. Daddy would stop at Smith’s Store and, along with a bag of ice, he would put several Coca-Colas in a big, red, metal cooler. Then Mama would put the food that she had prepared inside too, on top of the ice. Everything inside that box stayed icy-cold all day, and it sure tasted good in the heat of a summer’s day.

After a few hours Daddy put the fire out, and Mama packed what little scraps of food we hadn’t eaten inside the cooler with the ice. Just as she snapped the lid shut, she asked, “What was the fishing count for the day? Who caught the most?”

Papa spoke up and said, “I caught a soft-shelled turtle and one carp.”

“Well, I caught a catfish and two crayfish, so I win. I caught three and you just caught two!” Aunt Ruby answered.

“Oh no! My catches weighed more than yours, so I win!”

Aunt Ruby, having none of that, put it right back to him by saying, “Nobody said anything about how much anything weighed. It’s all about the numbers. The total number caught. I win!”

Mama looked at me, grinned, and said, “I can tell they will be fussing over this for quite a while. If Aunt Ruby wants to ride in the back, then just get up front with your Daddy and me.”

“Okay I will. I’m tired anyway.”

As it turned out, Papa and Aunt Ruby did ride in the back of the truck on the way home. I was happy riding up front, snuggled between Mama and Daddy. Just before I dozed off to sleep, I could hear the mumbling of a brother and sister argument coming from the bed of the truck, and I smiled to myself.

Phyllis Pendergrass is an author and artist who resides on Sand Mountain in Alabama. "Papa" is taken from her first book, Tomboy Princess, forthcoming from Warner House Press.