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Brady’s Clark Hollow Rambungs
Richard Brady
675-3754
richardbradyl@ juno.com
where he could hear Aunt Bessie if she called to him. Aunt Bessie had a bad hip, and she rarely left the house.
He gave me one of the apples, and, like any kid, I took a couple of big bites, and the juice was flying everywhere, and the apple would just crack when I bit into it. Uncle Willie, I think admiring my ability to consume the apple with such gusto, laughed and said, “Son, you sound like a hog cracking acorns.” I laughed with him.
I can picture him on just about every Saturday morning, about 8:00 or 9:00 o’clock, walking slowly, somewhat humped over, coming out the road past Uncle Horace and Aunt Myrtle’s house, and past the old shop, and on to our house. He needed to go “to town,” to get some groceries and he would not leave Aunt Bessie by herself. He wanted me to come and sit with her.
Many times I went willingly, because I liked Uncle Willie. He always had a twinkle in his eye. And he was a quiet man, and comfortable for a somewhat shy kid to be around. Other mornings, however, I had plans of my own, or I just didn’t want to hie bothered, particularly if it was during the school year, when every Saturday meant freedom. Sometimes, I would hide behind the big wood cook stove in the kitchen.
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