Hills like Kiliminjaro. (Part 1)
The house was a big, barn shaped house set on the side of a hill. Behind it was an old mine. It looked spooky...like a creepy cave out of an old time movie. Now blocked, up, we were forbidden as children to explore it. It was just off the narrow footpath you took to the outhouse set back about 100 feet from the house. Old catalogs and maybe newspapers were torn out and used for toilet paper. Sometimes there were spider webs down in the corners of the outhouse.
The big house had a porch on front that had a wooden porch swing on one end. There were also two caneback wooden chairs and a metal 'glider'. The glider was where my grandmother would sit and knit or sometimes break and de-string green beans. Inside the front door was a hall that ran straight to back of the house. Three bedrooms were off the hall on the right. The two in the front had coal burning fireplaces. They were furnished with big feather beds, a chest of drawers and in the corner a "slopjar" that you could use to urinate (or other) in the middle of the night if you had to. (But you had to carry it out the next morning...that was the rule). If you were so lucky as to sleep in one of the two 'front' bedrooms, you would lay in exquisite comfort, under blankets hand made by your grandmother. In winter, the coal fire cast hypnotic shadows on the ceiling as the fire banked. A kid could quite easily get lost in the shadow show until overtaken by sleep.
My cousin, Jeff and his mother Aunt Jean had bedrooms upstairs as did my grandmother and grandfather. We called him "Poppy Roy". She was always "Grandma Virgie". Not granny. Not grammy. It was the full "Grandma Virgie". Jeff was an only child and had the run of the house and...having all the attention from his mother, grandmother and grandfather...was a little spoiled. Always into mischiefs of one kind or another. He was a couple years older than me so he also took the lead whenever my family came to visit.
Wooden steps led down from the front of the house to a little bottom where you parked your car. There was a drive that came down off the hill on the other side of the little creek that ran there. To the right, the bottom opened out to a larger field that was bordered by a larger stream. And, on the other side of the little river a hillside rose up at a steep angle. About fifty feet up was little camp of shacks everyone called "Dogtown". The street of Dogtown was visible from our front porch and it was often the source of evening entertainment to watch what 'went on'. (Drunks, fights, domestic outrages etc.,)
Across the river was a 'swinging bridge'. This is a walking bridge strung on bracings and two cables. The walkway is suspended from the cables and is narrow and made of two by fours. It's quite an adventure for a 10 year old boy. I felt I could not let my fear stop me from crossing it because my mother told that she used to ride her bike across it when she was a little girl. Here's a picture of my daughter on one very similar to the one into Dogtown.
I liked to sit on that porch and look past Dogtown to the main part of town. Hyden is the county seat and an easy walk from the house.
One of our games was, we would walk the long way into town picking up empty pop bottles off the side of the road. In those days littering was much more common than now. I don't think I've seen anybody toss trash out their car window in years. But then it was common to just toss your trash right out the window as you were riding down the road. We could usually get enough to cash in and buy ice cream or some other treat at the soda fountain counter in the drugstore in town.
As we got older, our town visits were governed by 1 and only 1 rule...we were forbidden to visit the pool hall. "Goofy's Pool hall" was located down an incline and under the "5 and Dime" store. Of course, since it was 'off limits' we went there immediately. I don't think my mother and Aunt Jean were right though. I do NOT feel like we were corrupted too much by hanging around Goofys. We learned how to shoot "8 ball" and "straight" pool. Also learned this was one place where you could buy and sell knives or maybe a gun, if you wanted to.
We ran around and played with Jeff's crew. Orville, Greg, Lige, Dana and some others. All hillbilly boys but plenty smart and lots of imagination for playing. A junked out old army truck was abandoned on a beat down dirt lot near the Elementary school. We climbed all over that thing playing "soldier". If only a couple us were around, a great deal of fun could be had by damming up the creek branch (we called it 'the branch') and seeing how big a pool of water we could create. Or maybe hunting crawdads was called for. Crawdads hid under hand sized rocks at the bottom of the stream. You reach in with one hand and gently lift the rock...with the other hand you grab the crawdad behind it's head stearing clear of it's pincers. When you lift up the rock, a little cloud of muddy water would arise and the crawdad was dead in the middle of that cloud.
We didn't do anything with them. They were just fun to catch. Sometimes you would get a female with a load of eggs packed in under her tail.
Sometimes, we would have a really big excursion. The mountain where the elementary school and the hospital was, had two names. If you were referring to the area around the hospital and the buildings and chapel and hospital itself...that was "Hospital Hill". But further on...up above, you could walk to the top. Past where any buildings were, you came into a hillside that was pine trees. This was an easy walk because the canopy was so dark no ground cover grew. It was nice just walking on all pine needles. After you got past the pine forest, the hill took a steep ascent and the ground cover as well as the trees were dense. There was a footpath, but you had to look smart because plants grew out and loomed over the path...including poison ivy which you diligently avoided. Once you got up to where the path didn't go 'up' anymore, that's when you arrived at the "Devil's Track" which was our name for the mountain...or at least the mountain top. Here was a plateaued area maybe two acres with tons of rocky outcroppings. Here you were pretty high up and you could look out over the highway and to the River that ran behind town...the "Middle Fork" of the Kentucky River. There in a sort of cleared space was a large flat rock in the ground. It had a discoloration of a red hue and it was in the form of a human shoe print. This was the Devil's track itself. Other peculiarly shaped outcroppings we gave names to..."The Devil's throne" ...even "The Devil's commode" (a toilet seat shaped semi circle of flat rock.).
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Sundays
Waking up in a feather bed. Called to get dressed by my mother. We were expected to dress well to attend church. If I was lucky, my mother would let me 'off the hook' from attending Sunday School because actually, it was kind of boring. However, Poppy Roy was, among other things, the Sunday School Superintendent of the First Baptist Church of Hyden Kentucky. So, from time to time we were obliged to appear to keep a good image up. This means I have to wear a necktie...maybe even a little sport coat.
Church service is a family affair. Poppy Roy is also the choir leader so he has an active part throughout the service. Because of his duties, he always arrives early to church. He drives his pickup truck with running boards and parks right in front of the church and just directly off the state highway.
My great aunt Ethel, (Poppy Roy's sister) is the church pianist. When service starts, my mother always sits up front ...about three rows back, with Aunt Jean and Jean's friends. If my dad is there, he sits with them. However, me and my cousin invariably seat ourselves in the very last row of pews as far from adult supervision and observation as physically possible. Greg Morgan who is older than Jeff also sits with us. I still remember Poppy Roy leading the congregation in what is, I suppose, my favorite hymn, "The old rugged Cross".
When service was over, me, Jeff and my brother would rush outside to wait for Poppy Roy to come out and drive us home. We would jump up on the running boards, Jeff on one side, me and my brother on the other. Poppy Roy would put it in reverse and back straight out into the highway without even a glance to check if any car was coming. Then, we rode back through town hanging on to the side of the truck bed. It was great fun and a reward for our good (ie silent) behavior during the service.
You may have noticed I did not mention Grandma Virgie's role in church service. That's because she had none! I was jealous in my juvenile way. Instead of going to church on Sunday, her job was to spend the morning fixing up Sunday dinner. (what we would call lunch). What a meal it was!
Now, it was a fixture of our lives that Sunday dinner was when Virgie hosted guests. There was a long dining room table which must have seated ten people...more if need be. Various extended family relations were always a feature. Often, the preacher would also join us. My clearest memory is of heavily bosomed great aunts or cousins ...they must have been middle aged and were dressed in finest clothes for church. There had on jewelry, and were heavily doused in floral scented perfumes...they would exclaim over what a 'handsome little boy" and they would grab me in their arms and pull me into that bosomy expanse and hug me and kiss me. In the aftermath of this gauntlet, I would have to check to make sure I got rid of any lipstick impressions on my cheeks.
Usually, us kids would be seated at a card table set up in the kitchen. But, in the dining room, there was a spread that simply isn't found nowadays. For starters, there would be two meat entrees. Two of either pot roast, Fried chicken or ham. In porcelain bowls, other dishes would be on the table to be passed, "family style". Sweet corn, mashed potatoes, green beans, beets, peas...and more. There would be two plates of rolls. There was a pitcher of sweet tea on a sideboard. When I say sweet...I mean as sweet as possible. The tea had so much sugar in it that there was quarter inch of undissolved sugar at the bottom of the pitcher. It was a feast indeed.
All of this was prepared by Grandma Virgie, every Sunday morning ...and I was jealous because she didn't have to attend the service!
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End part 1
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