Day 67 CJSM

Day 67

 

Listening to Uncle Freddy’s stories

about the wild times on the farm---

running moonshine, dances, secret 

rooms with stills and finding the

remains of slot machines in the

dump on the farm

 

 

We once bought a farm near the quaint. tiny village of Maeystown, a little berg in Monroe County just ten miles southwest of the county seat. The 214 acres included bottom land and a bluff with a view “to kill for”. I had discovered the “find” on a deer hunting trip with “Uncle Freddy” who farmed bottom land near the farm and had even once farmed this particular land.

Chasing deer (not---dear) is a hobby that I totally enjoy; such endeavor is not some liberal declared “blood lust” satiated in the indiscriminate “murder” of innocent little Bambi; rather the pleasure stems from a reverent love of nature and an appreciation for the “traditional” values and virtues of the “original” American Independent-Individual practiced by “modern” man. To wit: I have “passed” on myriad deer over the seasons for practical reasons. I am a conservationist!

In my seventy years I have personally planted well over ten thousand trees; I love Mother Nature! Words are cheap; “I flew a hundred miles by jet---because…it was going there, anyway!”? Yeah! Really! That sure enough is: convenient “green” ideology! Hmm!

I like “real” people! Please!  Don’t’ tell me what a “sensation” you are; show me by design.

Uncle Freddy, he was actually Candy’s relative, but I loved him and miss his irreverence.

A World War II veteran of the Pacific campaign, he shared “war” stories with me; we were good friends. He is one of six or seven individuals with whom I  might have taken over the world, had I ever entertained such ambitions. (Hell! If I had owned it, I’d have just sold it for a profit the very next day!) At least, had we ever run wild together---well…we’d have ended up in jail. We sure enjoyed some grand ole times together in spite of our generational differences.

The farm we purchased, I had discovered chasing the elusive wraith called “whitetail” while hunting with Uncle Freddy. As I topped a rise in the early morn, there was my “living” anachronism: I had just stepped back into the late 1800”s. Run down buildings, an old farm house which had once seen its best time and space. Nirvana! I was---home!

Several years later, we bought the property, built a new home with swimming pool and resided on the “estate” for nearly a dozen years, each day an event-adventure. Fantastic!

Uncle Freddy could not wait to get in the basement of the old house; a trap door in the kitchen floor led to the rock wall basement. The steps ended at a dead-end rock wall---with a hole in it! One of the prior owners had tried to put a basement exit to the yard through that wall. Surprise!

Breaking through that “exterior” wall brought him into the “secret” part of the basement.

Uncle Freddy walked---right through…into the secret room complete with a raised concrete pad next to the outside cistern and on the surface was laying some copper tubing and broken mason jars. Hmm! A still! Yes! Siree! Uncle Freddy knew all the secrets!

The old house had hosted many a dance complete with live band, in its hey-day!

We also found remnants of a discarded slot machine on the old scrap iron pile in the pasture!

Oh! Brother! Can I pick ’em? Or---what? Amen!

Ah! Cookie Jar “wild-times” Sweet Memories!