The Deep Woods Ramblings of Rocky Hall: jake 'n ernie

A Native Son of the North Carolina Piedmont

My name is Rocky Hall. I live in the central piedmont of North Carolina. This blog was created out of a need to write and tell a story.

I was born to good fortune. As a small child my days were spent in the shade of white oak and hickory with family as strong as those trees. Water came from a bucket drawn at the well, and we drank from a dipper that hung on a rusty nail driven in the side of the well post. We had a coal stove and an out house. No phone. We didn't need one. But we did have a TV.

We had wonderful neighbors. Folks you could count on. Among them were tobacco farmers, mill workers and mechanics. Old women wore sun bonnets and children were taught to mind their elders.

Summers were spent in the tobacco fields. Or if you were too young to prime you worked at the barn. When we weren't working we romped through the countryside with siblings and cousins, went fishing, swam in ponds, caught crawfish in the spring branch and swang on the porch swing. My shadow would often be cast long at night as I played by the spark of Grandpa's stick welder making repairs for neighbors.

Sunday was for church and visiting.

My parents had me young. We lived with my Grandpa at first, Mama's Daddy. Mama was pretty and Daddy was strong. I can still recall the smell of him as I sat on his lap after he got home from work. Sweat, oil and gasoline were badges of honor for a young mechanic. Around the supper table there was talk of family, neighbors and work. Everyone laughed and sang while Earnest Tubb crackled on the radio. On weekends Grandpa would go out and sit in his old Chevy and read for hours. He loved to read. I can see him now in that faded old car, head just above the window's beltline, eyes looking downward in concentration, fedora pushed back on his head.

That was a magic time. Un-hurried. Even the sunlight was different then.

So now you see. I was indeed born to good fortune.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

jake 'n ernie

Jake stayed out of work one day last week because his basset hound Ernie was sick. Seems Ernie had a reaction to the heartworm medication Jake had given him. He wouldn't eat and had a severe rash.
" Dick, if that joker ain't hungry you know he's sick, 'n if he goes outside all he eats is grass" Jake growled over the phone in his usual gruff but caring manner. I told him not to worry about work and do whatever he needed to do for Ernie. Jake loves Ernie.

The next day Jake returned to work, relieved Ernie was better.

I've often said Ernie has it better than a lot of young'uns do. Jake has no kids of his own, though his wife does have a grown daughter. Jake would've made a good dad. Somehow it wasn't in the cards for him to be a father. He's a caring and thoughtful guy. Jake and Dee see to it Ernie gets whatever he wants. They even bring him food back every Saturday when they go to the fish house for supper.

Yesterday Jake said "look here" and held his phone up for me to see a series of pictures showing Ernie looking pitiful, laying in Jake's bed with the covers up to his shoulders. His head was on the pillow and a cool washcloth on his forehead. I shook my head and said "That's one spoiled dog!" Jake smiled and chuckled proudly. "I told ya' he was sick."