Out of the Frying Pan

Christmas Eve at the Jot-em-Down

As we drove, we looked at the sights, smiling all the way. When we pulled into Dewy’s, we noticed that there were quite a few other cars there. We all piled out of the truck and went up the steps. Mr. Massey had decorated his store with lights and in one window was a tree with toys around it. In the other windows were Santas, elves, reindeer, and such. On the porch were rocking chairs and tables made of old power company line spools with regular chairs for serious games of checkers. Of course the outside of the store was adorned with tin signs which included Mail Pouch chewing tobacco, Red Man, and S&H Green Stamps (which were given out with the purchase of gas from one of the two pumps he had).

Mr. Massey and his wife lived in the back of the store. The whole building was about thirty-five feet wide and forty feet deep, counting the living quarters. We went inside and there was an array of things old and new to be found, from different sized washtubs hanging from the ceiling, scrub boards hanging from the four by four supports that went from floor to ceiling, to a CocaCola chest with the bottle opener on the side (which he still kept sodas in, priced at a quarter unless you took the bottle with you, then you had to pay three cents deposit). There was no beer or alcohol of any kind because that part of Kentucky was dry (not counting my cousin Cec’s wares). There was a big potbelly stove right in the middle of the store that did a good job of keeping the store (and the men who were sitting in chairs around the stove) nice and warm.

But for the size of it, Mr. Massey and his wife had pretty much what a person might need. He came right up to greet us with a Merry Christmas when we came in. He was short in stature, only around five seven, but had a big heart for people. He always seemed cheerful and very likeable. Even when people first met him they felt they knew him for years.

He looked at my brothers and me. Laughing, he said, “Why, you boys have gotten taller! It won’t be long that Mike here will be taller than me!”

The other men said “Hey, John, Merry Christmas. Hope you brought your fiddle.”

“You betcha I have it," Grandpa said. I knew we were in for some down home Christmas music. Grandpa introduced us to the other men. The only ones I knew were Dave “Stringbean” Akeman, a great banjo player and Mac Wiseman, who played guitar. Mr. Massey pulled up a few more wooden folding chairs near the stove. He told us that anything we wanted to drink was on the house and to help ourselves.

After a few plinks and squeaks from tuning keys, the music started. At first they started with traditional bluegrass, then moved to Christmas songs from long ago. Our feet tapping and hands clapping to the music, everybody was having a good time. Mr. Massy’s wife even joined in.

It didn’t seem that long but Mr. Massey announced between songs, “If any of you need to get home before dark, ya better git. Daylight is leaving us.”

Grandpa pulled out his watch and said, “Just look at the time! Dewy, here’s my list, could you and the boys get it ready for me?”

“Sure John,” Mr. Massey replied.

“And Dewy...” Grandpa motioned him over and said something to him in a low tone so we couldn’t hear. Mr. Massey just smiled and nodded. He went behind the counter and started down the list, telling us what was needed and pointing to the direction in which it would be found. We went this way and that way, finding each item that Grandpa wanted and bringing it back to the counter where Mr. Massey would bag it. We finally reached the end of the list and everything was ready.

Mr. Massey called Grandpa over. “Want me to put it on your tab, John?”

“Not this time, Dewy.” Grandpa paid him and thanked him for his trouble.

“No trouble, John. Glad I could help and shucks, you and the other fellows gave me and my wife the greatest Christmas gift with your music.”

My brothers and I carried out the groceries out while Grandpa was saying his goodbyes to everyone. Everybody shook his hand and wished us all a Merry Christmas. As we went down the steps, we could hear the music start up again.

The truck started up fine and we pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road. Grandpa was smiling and humming and before we knew it, we were singing songs as we traveled down the road.