Saturday, September 17, 2005

Yankee Dimes

When his Granny and Poppa used to come to Armadillo Creek and stay for a few days, Johnny Miller was always excited. They had an old blue and white VW bus that they used to drive everywhere in. When they’d pick up the boys, Johnny and his brother Tommy would go willingly, wherever they took them. Tommy would tend to doze off, as the quick chugchugchug of the engine got loud up long hills, then would wake up when they started downhill, and the sound faded.

They’d sometimes go over to the next county, where Poppa’s family had lived when he was young, to visit older relatives that couldn’t get out and about too well anymore. On the way there or back, they’d stop at Buttermilk Springs, not named for the buttermilk that flowed out of the ground – but almost. For when they’d drive up the old dirt road, and pull off, and walk up the trail to the springs, in those days, the water was so pure, and cold, that you could see down into it to the bottom, and the bottom of the hole was rock, or clay, or a mix, that was a pale, pale off-white color, almost exactly the shade of buttermilk. And, at a glance, it did look as if buttermilk were flowing out of the ground there.

When they were little, their Poppa would come and he’d tease all the little ones, so playfully and fun, he’d carry them on his shoulders, and play with them like no other adults anywhere did. He’d take his false teeth, and, with his tongue, force the uppers down, and the lowers up, and make them clack together in the most silly of ways. Or he’d walk up to them, and stick his finger in their ears, for no apparent reason at all. And, when they’d go back for a fork, often their plate would be missing when they’d return to the table. He’d play, and all the kids loved it.

Granny was different. She, too, played with the kids, but would scold Poppa when he got too ornery with them. She was as full of love and life as her man of many years was, but she had a Grandmother’s lap, where a skinned knee or bruised anything could go and get comfort. She’d bring blackberry jam, made from berries gathered during their trips up the road, in the wild bushes.

Indeed, all the kids loved the pair of them. Johnny Miller was a thinker, and thought long and hard, about what was the biggest possible amount that there could ever be. He didn’t know too much, then, about pounds, and miles, and other units of measure, but he could think of what had to be the biggest anything there was….

And the next time his Granny came, the one who loved him so dearly when he needed a hug, who gave him “Yankee Dimes” for little jobs done – and how he loved those little kisses. The next time she came, he said, “Granny, I love you….. From the top of God’s head, to the bottom of the devil’s feet.” And, he gave her a big hug.

Then, he turned to his Poppa, who was always teasing him in such a loving and playful way, and whom he loved just as much, and told him, holding his thumb and forefinger just a little ways apart, “Poppa, I love you just about this much!”

1 comment:

Robby Beth said...

I absolutely love this story!