MY brother Woody wrote just another story. I really enjoyed reading it! Since this one is about Thanksgiving, I decided to post it for my relatives to read. Duby’s Thanksgiving Thanksgiving, it is the perfect time for remembering and for reflection. I remember the first time that I spent Thanksgiving away from home. It was the one with my Cousin Duby, his wife Louise, and their two small sons, Andy and Greg. Duby had talked me into it. I figured he must have been lonely, and so I agreed to go. Duby Harris made a poor mans dollar, lots of hard work and very little money. His education was little or none. He was a sharecropper and lived in a small four room house, just out from Bolivar, Tennessee. Smack in the middle of nowhere. About the only entertainment was a creek nearby, good for swimming and fishing, and a big ole woods, that provided hunting and firewood. Late Monday afternoon as he and I stacked wood on the porch, an old pick-up truck stopped down at the end of the dirt road that led up to the house. Duby walked down to the Truck, and I watched as he and the man that was driving talked for a bit. He soon walked back and sat down on the porch I noticed, as he kind of just stared off into the distance. I went down close to where he sat, and then I asked, Whats up Duby? His head kind of dropped and he said They gonna be countin on me for Thanksgivin. When he looked up again, I thought his eyes looked just a little bit misty. I had never seen that from Duby before. The Duby Harris I knew was for sure considered to be a very good farmhand; however he also had been known to pull a cork now and again. He was not above stepping a little to the left of a straight line. He enjoyed a good old fashioned knuckle-buster once in a while. When it came to a scuffle, if he knocked someone down, he had no reservations about helping the fella back up, brushing him off, and knocking him back down again. To myself and the ones that knew him, he was not known for tenderness. The man in the truck was Dubys boss; there would not be a paycheck before Thanksgiving. Seems that some sort of an advancement from the bank had been delayed. Thanksgiving was looking bleak. Well, Duby said, I jist have to git it done the best way I can. He went on into the house to explain their plight to Louise. The next morning while we were splitting up some stove-wood, Duby said, I did some thinkin last night and I got some ideas. Me and you goin down to the Creek today, and we gonna bait up them set hooks that I left down there. Early Wednesday morning when we checked the hooks, we had six or seven cats, that weighed about a pound and a half each, and a big one around seven pounds. We filleted the small ones and steaked out the big one. When we finished, Duby said, “You know what? You spose’ to have some chikin’ or turkey on Thanksgivin. Tonight we gonna git some. And sure enough we did! Now it seems the old farmer about a mile or two down from Duby, had a real nice size chicken house, and sure enough with chickens included. I stood watch while he did the shopping. In a few minutes, He came out with two chickens, both had broke necks. Home we went and it was chicken cleaning time. While we were dressing the two hens, I asked Duby, Why did we get two Chickens? We only need one. He looked up and with a bit of a smile said, Ill show you in the mornin’. Thanksgiving Day, bright and early, Duby said, Come on Woody grab that sack, and lets go. He had a sack, and I picked up the one on the table. We soon where walking down the gravel Road. I looked over at Duby, and said, Hey where are we going with this stuff anyway? He said, We goin to Curlys, he didnt git paid either, he aint got no moren me, and theyll be hungry too. Curly was an old black man, who lived down the road from Duby, with his wife, and a bunch of little ones. Duby said, This is moren we need, so we gonna give them some too. We soon came up to a little house close to an old cotton field. Curly, his wife and little ones were soon all out on the porch. Duby handed the sacks up, and Curly said, Thanks Mr. Duby, we for shore preciate it, we needs it. Then Curlys wife said, May the Good Lawd bless you and thank you so kindly.” She wiped her face, took her babies and went inside. We never spoke about it again, but I always remembered it. I never forgot my cousin’s kindness and the heart that some folks never got to see. When we got back from Curlys, Louise said Duby where did this Chicken come from anyway? All Duby said was Its a mystery, them chikins jist wandered up. Louise looked at him with a little smile and said Hmmm mystery chicken huh? She said Sure do wish we had some onions for the dressing. Ole Duby looked at me and said Come on I know where some wild ones grow, and Im pretty sure theres still some collards left in the garden.” This year when I take my place at our Thanksgiving table, I will be grateful for the food, and for my family around me. I will cherish the moment, and I know my thoughts will wander on back to that Thanksgiving so long ago that I spent with my Cousin Duby, and I will be humbled by those thoughts of that day. I dont know where Duby is now, but I do know he passed from this earth some years back, wherever he is, Ill bet hes having fried catfish, collard greens, and mystery chikin’ with just a little bit of wild onion dressing on the side. Happy Thanksgiving Duby and Happy Thanksgiving to Everyone Woody White Nov. 21, 2013
Posted on: Fri, 22 Nov 2013 00:23:03 +0000
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