Uncle Jerry drank a little. In fact, Uncle Jerry never drew a sober breath from the time he cashed his paycheck at the liquor store on Friday after work until he got back to the shop on Mondays with a killer hangover. One time he told Bud, “I get paid today and I gotta get drunk. I had the flu all week and feel so bad I cain’t hardly drag. I shore dread it.”
Bud, who’d never been initiated into drinking at the time asked, “Uncle Jerry, if you feel so bad, why do you HAVE to get drunk? Can’t you take a weekend off?”
“Oh no!” Uncle Jerry told him. “I always stay drunk on the weekends.”
He must have been concerned about his reputation. He was Aunt Myrtle’s second husband. At the time I knew them, they’d been married over forty years. If Aunt Myrtle stuck by Uncle Jerry, I can’t imagine what her first husband must have put her through.
Mother went over to visit Aunt Myrtle one Thursday morning, not realizing Uncle Jerry was on vacation. They went out to the garden first to admire Aunt Myrtle’s tomatoes and the green beans that were starting to put out, picking a few for Mother. When they made their way into the kitchen, they encountered Uncle Jerry down on his hands and knees in front of the icebox (not refrigerator). He’d pulled the drawer out and was eating onions and turnips raw with the garden dirt still clinging to them. Considering it was Uncle Jerry, neither one said anything.
He looked up at them and remarked. “This is my icebox and I’ll eat anything I G__ D____ please.” They got their coffee and took it out to drink in the shade.
“Don’t let Jerry worry you none. I forgot to tell you Jerry was on vacation when I told you to come over to get tomatoes,” noted Aunt Myrtle.
“Oh, that’s okay. It is his icebox after all,” Mother replied.
drunk
Uncle Albutt Part 6
Aunt Jewel had several nieces and nephews I saw from time to time. Her sister Lucille, of the hairy legs, who was married to Daddy’s Uncle Dunc, had three daughters, Alma, Eunice, and Gladys.
I guessed Lucille wanted to keep to her family’s tradition of inflicting horrible names on kids including her boys, Hambone, Mookie, Teeter, and twins Fats and Snake. I can’t imagine how she settled on Fats for one of the twins. They both were skinny as snakes, though neither bit me.
I was most impressed with Alma. Mother said she was a tramp because she wore her swimsuit and moved the grass when a road crew was working in front of their house. It made no sense to me. I thought she looked beautiful with her bright red lipstick, blonde ponytail tied with a scarf, teetering along in high heeled wedge sandals. The mower gave her a lot of trouble and a couple of the guys came to check on her.
Her sister Eunice came out in her swimsuit, but she was not so popular, probably because she was extremely thin. Her suit bagged over her hips like a toddler’s training pants. Alma got a boyfriend that day. Eunice didn’t. No matter, Eunice had somehow snagged a boyfriend named Moxy. I think he followed her home from her carhop job.
Mother also thought carhops were trashy, dashing my career hopes. I was impressed when Eunice got married at the age of sixteen and had a baby shortly thereafter. Eunice and Moxy were great favorites of Aunt Jewel’s, so I heard of them from time to time over the next few years.
Gladys was nearest me in age. Apparently still under the influence of her religious, fundamentalist mother, her clothes inspired no envy in me. Her hair was tightly braided. She wore a dark, long-sleeved dress and brown leather oxfords I did not envy. Her mother kept her busy, leaving her little time to play with me. I helped her wash dishes and mop the kitchen so we could escape outdoors.
That afternoon, we waded in their pond in our clothes. Gladys said her mama didn’t allow her to wear a swimsuit. Afterward, I wore one of her Pentecostal dress and flour sack bloomers while my clothes dried on the barbed wire garden fence. I wanted to keep the flour sack bloomers, but mother insisted I give them back. I never wore anything more comfortable.
We each got a quarter of watermelon from their garden that had been cooled in their well. Late in the day, the men fried fish while we chased fireflies in the dusk.
Uncle Dunc, became progressively rowdier as the evening drew on. Though I didn’t know it at the time, It was my first experience with a drunk. Uncle Dunc began playing wildly with us, chasing us as we jumped off the high porch fronting their house into the darkness. I enjoyed the day tremendously, though sadly, never got to visit again.
I lay that deprivation directly at Mother’s feet based on a conversation I heard as we drove home late in the night. She took a dim view of drunks frying fish and chasing her children into the darkness. What a pity! I thought I was having fun.
I later got the impression he was named Dunc because it rhymed with drunk. Still makes sense to me.
Aunt Ader’s Place Part 2
House much like Aunt Ader’s
Not understanding the nature of inebriation, I assumed Uncle Dunc, a great name for a drunk, was just playful when he laughed at all our jokes and fell off the high porch chasing us. No one bothered to explain for years that Dunc was a drunk. He was one of my mawmaw’s youngest siblings, younger than some of her own children. Her mother, Cynthia, was a scandal, having been twice divorced before she married John Miller. John only lasted long enough to father a daughter and twin boys in quick succession before dying of lead poisoning. He was shot in a bar fight, likely saving him from the heartbreak of his fickle wife’s habit of spousal abandonment. Presumably, his son Duncan was the bad apple that didn’t fall too far from either parental tree.
Aunt Lucille’s demeanor didn’t match Uncle Dunc’s. She was a dour, strait-laced woman not given to smiling, though it’s not likely she had much to smile about, considering her life with Dunc. She looked a lot like Smokey the Bear in a dress. I have not seen a woman more hirsute before or since. Her unibrow and mustache dominated her round face and coarse, black hair, resembling pubic hair covered her legs, though I had no knowledge of pubic hair at the time. After a visit there, Daddy always warned against us girls against shaving our legs or we’d end up with legs like Lucille. I was far too young at the time to be aware of leg-shaving anyway, but I certainly didn’t want Smokey the Bear legs.
Most of the time when we visited Uncle Dunc’s place, many other aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. Huge dinners of fried fish, barbecue, or fried chicken were served up, the first shift to ravenous children who ate scattered about the floor or maybe on the porch. This was in the days before paper plates, so dishes were quickly washed before setting the second table for adults. By this time knee babies were nodding off in their father’s arms and younger babies put to the breast. After dark, a propane lantern hanging on the big front porch cast a cone of light where dozens of cousins chased each other hysterically in and out of the shadows. Parents visited in the cool of the front porch. Mamas rocked babies and put them down to sleep on pallets just inside the house where they could be heard if they cried out.
Sometimes times there would be home-made vanilla, peach, or banana ice-cream made in hand-cranked freezers. The evening usually ended when exhausted kids were called in for ice-cream, but on the best nights, the old folks launched into deliciously terrifying ghost stories, made all the better because the teller believed them.
A few of my forty first cousins.
To be continued
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20 thoughts on “Aunt Ader’s Place Part 2”
- Pingback: Aunt Ader’s Place | Nutsrok – Br Andrew’s MusesEDIT
patriciaruthsusanGreat memories, Linda. :) — SuzanneLikeREPLY EDIT
Aunt BeulahAh, the fun of screeching around with cousins big and small as dusk falls and our parents talked and laughed on the porch or in the house. I’ll never forget it. And don’t you think everybody has an Uncle Dunc of one failing or another in their family tree? I know we did. Great post, one that opened me to many memories.Liked by youREPLYEDIT
http://www.salpa58.wordpress.comOh Linda, this is hysterical. I can relate to most of it and I am sitting here laughing out loud. Your aunt with all the bear hair sounds like she might have had some Italian in her. Very hairy group, I can attest to that. On the bright side you don’t see too many bald Italians. :o)
Loving this one and looking forward to reading more.Liked by youREPLYEDITLet’s CUT the Crap!So nice to have family around you. :-D Forty cousins. Wow.
Your stories are every entertaining.
Woe is me. I come from a family of women once my dad passed away. Thank goodness one of my four sisters had a boy.Liked by youREPLYEDITAnnette Rochelle AbenHook me up with the ice cream… Crazy but my mom had an older brother named Duncan. He passed very young, in fact she never met him.Liked by youREPLYEDIT
olganmAnother great image. And I like the sound of the ghost story telling…:)Liked by you and 1 other personREPLYEDIT
Soul GiftsThe image of the hirsute Smokey the Bear is now stuck in my head !! Thank God I stopped shaving my legs :)Liked by you and 1 other personREPLYEDIT
Judy MartinThis is great Linda. It must have been such fun for you at the time. I am so glad you have such a good memory and are sharing your stories of your colourful relatives with us! :-)Liked by you and 1 other personREPLYEDIT
Nutsrok Illustrations by Kathleen Swain
Dodged a Bullet
Jasper wakes up with a killer hangover and a throbbing black eye. The first thing he sees is a single rose on the side table and a note from his wife: “Darling, breakfast is on the table. I’ve gone shopping to make you your favorite dinner tonight. I love you!”
He staggers to the kitchen and, sure enough, there’s breakfast. “Mike.”he says to his son, “what happened last night?”
“You came home pickled and got that black eye tripping over a chair.”
“So, why the rose, breakfast, and sweet note from your mother?”
“Oh, that. Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take off your clothes, you screamed, ‘Leave me alone, I’m married!’”
Uncle Albutt Part 6
Aunt Jewel had several nieces and nephews I saw from time to time. Her sister Lucille, of the hairy legs, who was married to Daddy’s Uncle Dunc, had three daughters, Alma, Eunice, and Gladys. I guessed Lucille wanted to keep to her family’s tradition of inflicting horrible names on kids including her boys, Hambone, Mookie, Teeter, and twins Fats and Snake. I can’t imagine how she settled on Fats for one of the twins. They both were skinny as snakes, though neither bit me.
I was most impressed with Alma. Mother said she was a tramp because she wore her swimsuit and moved the grass when a road crew was working in front of their house. It made no sense to me. I thought she looked beautiful with her bright red lipstick, blonde ponytail tied with a scarf, teetering along in high heeled wedge sandals. The mower gave her a lot of trouble and a couple of the guys came to check on her. Her sister Eunice came out in her swimsuit, but she was not so popular, probably because she was extremely thin. Her suit bagged over her hips like a toddler’s training pants. Alma got a boyfriend that day. Eunice didn’t. No matter, Eunice had somehow snagged a boyfriend named Moxy. I think he followed her home from her carhop job. Mother also thought carhops were trashy, dashing my career hopes. I was impressed when Eunice got married at the age of sixteen and had a baby shortly thereafter. Eunice and Moxy were great favorites of Aunt Jewel’s, so I heard of them from time to time over the next few years.
Gladys was nearest me in age. Apparently still under the influence of her religious, fundamentalist mother, her clothes inspired no envy in me. Her hair was tightly braided. She wore a dark, long-sleeved dress and brown leather oxfords I did not envy. Her mother kept her busy, leaving her little time to play with me. I helped her wash dishes and mop the kitchen so we could escape outdoors. That afternoon, we waded in their pond in our clothes. Gladys said her mama didn’t allow her to wear a swimsuit. Afterward, I wore one of her Pentecostal dress and flour sack bloomers while my clothes dried on the barbed wire garden fence. I wanted to keep the flour sack bloomers, but mother insisted I give them back. I never wore anything more comfortable. We each got a quarter of watermelon from their garden that had been cooled in their well. Late in the day, the men fried fish while we chased fireflies in the dusk.
Uncle Dunc, became progressively rowdier as the evening drew on. Though I didn’t know it at the time, It was my first experience with a drunk. Uncle Dunc began playing wildly with us, chasing us as we jumped off the high porch fronting their house into the darkness. I enjoyed the day tremendously, though sadly, never got to visit again. I lay that deprivation directly at Mother’s feet based on a conversation I heard as we drove home late in the night. She took a dim view off drunks frying fish and chasing her children into the darkness. What a pity! I thought I was having fun.
I later got the impression he was named Dunc because it rhymed with drunk. Still makes sense to me.
Rudy the Rooster and his Boosters
The Austins lived just across the pasture from us. Jody Austin “drank.” In our neck of the woods, “drinking” meant a man was considered disreputable, prone to beat his wife and children, and probably didn’t work. It sounded a lot like today’s alcoholic. Jodie qualified magnificently. It was rumored that he had shot a man in a bar. Folks left Jody alone. Every Saturday night Jody hosted his “drinking” buddies for a binge. The festivities started with a huge bonfire. As they sat around on barrels, old cars, and broken lawn chairs, they tossed their cans out in the darkness. They got louder, sometimes had a friendly fight, occasionally rolling all around the fire, finishing off with a little singing…a treat for all the neighbors.
Jody and his gang of rowdies got sufficiently drunk, they started crowing trying rouse the rooster! Jody had a fine crowing voice, but roosters are territorial, determined to keep their harem to themselves. Since roosters habitually are “early to bed and early to rise,” it usually took about four tries to get Rudy the Rooster going. His initial response was usually half-hearted and anemic. Roo-ooh- ooh-ooh-ooh-oooooh. He obviously needed his rest. Jody’s buddies took a turn crowing. Rudy was riled now and ready for a rooster fight, but couldn’t find a single rooster to whip. The partiers thought this was high humor. They all took turns crowing. After a particularly authentic crow, Rudy called back “ROOH-OOH-OOH-OOH-OOOOOOH!!!” The longer the competition went on, the madder Rudy got. He must have hated Saturday nights and drinking.
First in a series
A Grave Matter
As the two tipsy ladies staggered home their night on the town, they realized they had to go, right then, and made a quick detour into the cemetery. They each ducked behind a tombstone to do their business. Of course, they had no toilet tissue. One used her panties, tossing them aside. Her friend had worn a lovely matched set and couldn’t bear to part with her undies. She just snitched a ribbon off a flower arrangement, cast it aside, and went on her way. Continue reading
Joke of the Day
An Irishman had been drinking at a pub all night.
. So the Irishman stood up to leave and fell flat on his face. He tried to stand one more time; same result. He figured he’ll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up.
Once outside he stood up and fell flat on his face. So he decided to crawl the 4 blocks to his home. When he arrived at the door he stood up and again fell flat on his face. He crawled through the door and into his bedroom.
When he reached his bed he tried one more time to stand up. This time he managed to pull himself upright, but he quickly fell right into bed and was sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
He was awakened the next morning to his wife standing over him, shouting, “So, you’ve been out drinking again!!”
“What makes you say that?” he asked, putting on an innocent look.
“The pub called — you left your wheelchair there again.”
Looking for Jesus
The drunk stumbled up on a tent revival meeting just as they started up the baptizing. The preacher put his arm around him, asking him if wanted wanted to find Jesus.
“Why sure!” Continue reading
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