Out of the Frying Pan

What Was He Thinking?

I went to see my doctor yesterday, and he gave me two shots – one directly into my elbow, and the other in my upper arm, scraping the bone. With each shot, he stabbed the needle in, dispensed one-third of the medicine, pulled out halfway, stabbed me again, dispensed a third, pulled out and stabbed me a third time. It was like getting six shots, all in my right arm.

It hurt like hell, but this time I didn’t cuss at the doctor.

Last night my arm hurt so bad that I didn’t get to sleep until 5 a.m. Cassie Reynolds called me in sick this morning, and I slept until about 8:30. By about 4:30 this afternoon, my arm felt a lot better.

So what happens when I’m left at home all alone for a day? I wrote. It actually helped me to keep my mind off the pain.

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Well, I’ll tell one more story about Uncle Clayt, then I’ll leave him alone. This is one that my wife, Cassie Reynolds likes.

My brother Lanny and I were working at Uncle Clayt’s when we got news that we were going to have visitors, my Uncle Harold, his wife, Betty, and two of their kids, their youngest two boys. Now I’ll tell the way it was: I liked to see Uncle Harold (AKA Rain Crow); he was a lot of fun to be around. As for his wife, I never even called her “Aunt.” I never liked that woman, she thought her and her family was better than anyone else. Then there was John and Billy Joe, two of the most spoiled basta – er – brats (that’ll work and is nicer to say, too) I’d ever seen. John, you had to watch like a hawk. Billy Joe was a whiney mama’s boy that I couldn’t hardly take.

What was Uncle Harold thinking, bringing them to Uncle Clayt’s?
Unless it was to get rid of them.

I brought it up so I might as well tell you. Uncle Harold had four kids total. He helped raise the first two and they turned out fine. They left home, I always believed, to get away from their mother. One is their daughter who lives in Texas, the other is the oldest son who is now a retired police officer from North Carolina, and I liked them both.

Their mother didn’t approve of their choices of who they married either. She especially disliked the son’s wife because she’s Native American and Betty would say things about her heritage, hurtful things. So they didn’t get many visits from either of their grown children. Also, they didn’t mind when their Dad came to visit but when he brought her, John, and Billy Joe, their visits wouldn’t last long.

As for Uncle Harold himself, he was a military man, stayed in for thirty-two years. If he was here right now he would tell you, most of it was to stay away from her and the other two. And just to show you what I mean, a retired Master Sergeant with that many years under their belt makes a pretty good pension. He lasted about three weeks after he came out before he found a job working eight- to ten-hour shifts at the cigar plant.

So now you know a little bit about them.

They arrived at Uncle Clayt’s around six p.m., having driven straight through from their home in Holiday, Florida. When they showed up, Uncle Clayt shook hands with Harold and patted him on the back, then turned and nodded to his wife, just to acknowledge her presence. As for John and Billy Joe, Uncle Clayt looked at them and asked, “How you boys doin’?” They didn’t even offer a handshake as they glared at him. Uncle Harold came over and greeted us with a warm smile and handshake and commented on how much we had grown since the last time he saw us. He asked us about our mom and told us how they were going to visit her next. Boy, I thought, Mom’ll be thrilled with those three coming to visit.

Of course Aunt Lottie came out to greet them and hugged Uncle Harold and tried to greet his wife and kids with the same enthusiasm but received the same tension that Uncle Clayt had. I noticed a wall come up almost as soon as Uncle Clayt had tried.

Betty and Billy Joe plopped down on the couch, and John went for Uncle Clayt’s chair. That didn’t work, he was told real quick by Uncle Clayt to go and sit down by his mother. Another rule in his house was that younguns stood while elders got settled first. Uncle Harold gave John a look and so John got up and moved.

Billy Joe, you’d have to use a crowbar to get that sissy from his mother’s side. My brother and I still stood ‘til Aunt Lottie and Uncle Harold took their places. Uncle Harold tried to break the tension but Uncle Clayt didn’t like the disrespect he’d already felt from the wife and kids. I asked Billy Joe if he’d like to go outside, but got an immediate (and whiney) response of “It’s too hot.”

I couldn’t help myself. I said, “You’re from Florida, it gets hot there, right?”

My Uncle Harold laughed but his wife wasn’t amused. As she glowered at me, Uncle Harold said, “Naw, him, he stays inside in the air conditioning with his mother.” That’s when I noticed that both his and his mother’s complexions were white as sheets. At least John had some tan to him, so it occurred to me to ask John next. Before I even got a word out, though, Uncle Harold said, “John’s alright where he is.” He probably knew that if John was turned loose on the farm, there’d be trouble of some kind.

My Aunt Lottie got up and said she just about had dinner ready. Lanny and I offered to help set the table. Surely you didn’t think my uncle’s wife and her Siamese twin Billy Joe would offer? Not a chance. We escaped into the kitchen and helped set the table, and my brother and I were amazed by how much food my aunt had prepared. There was everything from fresh out of the garden and smokehouse, and even fresh-baked pies. We were ready for a feast.

We complimented our Aunt Lottie on all the work she’d done preparing the food. Her face lit up with a smile and she told us to grab a blackberry tart and to eat it quick before calling the others in for dinner. We knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth and to take it while the gettin’ was good, and boy, were those tarts tasty.

I went in to announce that dinner was ready. As I walked toward the front room, I could still hear that the conversation was stilted and uncomfortable. I told them the good news and John jumped up and made a beeline for the kitchen, again showing no respect. When we came in, I saw that John had already taken his spot at the table without being told where to sit. Luckily he didn’t choose my Uncle Clayt’s chair.

Uncle Clayt sat down at the head of the table where he always sat. John was sitting to his right hand. Uncle Harold sat on his left, and Betty sat next to John on one side and Billy Joe on the other. Aunt Lottie sat down at the foot of the table, so then my brother and I sat next to her.

Uncle Harold complimented Aunt Lottie, saying everything looked wonderful. Billy Joe whined to his mom to help him fix his plate and she did, even cut his food up for him. (I would have smacked the tar out of him if I could have. For crying out loud, he was twelve years old!)

I could see that Uncle Harold was embarrassed. My Uncle Clayt didn’t even look up.

Then it was John’s turn to do something stupid. John sat there looking around at all the food that was before him, and said, loudly, “I don’t like none of this junk!”

Out of all the things to say, out of all the places to say it.

My Aunt Lottie, my brother, and I, with bulging eyes, looked at Uncle Clayt. We could see the veins raise in his temples.

Before my Uncle Harold could say a word, John was about seven feet away from the table, flat up against the wall. Uncle Clayt had backhanded him and in the blink of an eye, the boy had flown backwards. My uncle may have been old, but he was very strong, and very quick. As John slid down the wall and slumped down onto the floor, Uncle Clayt was already standing. He got right up in Uncle Harold’s face, and pointed his finger at him.

In a tight controlled voice he said, “You get that kid out of my house and don’t ever bring him back, ya hear?”

Uncle Harold hurried over to John. Betty was trying to get up and Billy Joe was crying.

We just sat there. My aunt had her hand to her mouth, either from the shock of what had just taken place, or to keep everyone from seeing her smile. I had a hard time too because I would have liked to have seen Billy Joe get smacked. He was probably only crying because of all the food he was going to miss out on.

Uncle Harold picked John up and I saw that the kid had a bloody mouth, but he was lucky that he wasn’t spitting teeth. He did, after all, take the seat on Uncle Clayt’s right-hand side. Uncle Clayt was right-handed.

Harold led John out while his wife led Baby-Billy-Joe. Uncle Clayt was right behind them, then the rest of us followed. I stopped long enough to pick up the chair where John had been sitting. Out the front door they went with their kids.

After they were back in their car, Uncle Harold came up on the front porch where Uncle Clayt was standing. He apologized for John.

Uncle Clayt, speaking loud enough to be heard even by Betty and the boys out in the car, said, “You’re welcome to come back but don’t ever bring that kid with you, and if your wife doesn’t like it, she can stay with him.”

Uncle Harold hung his head. “No, sir, I won’t bring them back and I’m ashamed of their upbringing.” Then he went out to his car and left.

We could hear them arguing as they were going down the road, even from where we were standing in the front room. We scurried back to the kitchen before Uncle Clayt came back in. My aunt was cleaning the floor while we cleared the extra place settings from the table.

I felt sorry for my Uncle Harold. He just wanted to visit family. What he should have done, was give his wife the keys and then stayed to have dinner with us.

Uncle Clayt came back in and said, “Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” and that’s just what we did. I knew once they’d arrived, if they kept it up they would make Uncle Clayt mad. I did, however, hear from my mom that when Uncle Harold came to visit her, that John and Billy Joe were better behaved, even his wife seemed more friendly.

Maybe it had something to do with what Uncle Harold told Mom. He told her that he had threatened them all that if they embarrassed him like that again, he would kick all three of their asses. After that visit, though, Uncle Harold just didn’t bring them along at all.

Later when Uncle Harold died, John and Betty seemed upset, but Billy Joe didn’t even display a sniffle of grief. I figured he was happy that now he’d have his mom to himself.

Last time I saw John he was selling drugs at a drive-in movie, still showing no respect for the rules or for the law of the land. Don’t know what happened to Billy Joe. His mom died, I wouldn’t be surprised if he went with her there, too.

As for what happened at Uncle Clayt’s that day, well, if a person comes into a man’s house, shows him no respect, then has the nerve to call something that takes blood and sweat to grow and prepare “JUNK,” I myself would have thrown him out, too.

Our kids don’t act like that. I was taught better, my wife was too. That’s why I believe our kids might just make it when they leave home.