Johnny Miller, at about three years old, was laying in bed one evening. He should have long been asleep, but instead, he was jabbering to himself, laying there, looking up and out the window, at the huge moon beyond the peach tree that lived there. He could see the leaves swaying up and down in the moonlight, and there was a bit of magic in the moment.
When his Mamma came in to check on him, to find out why he was still awake, he posed a question to her.
"Do you know how come that tree out there looks so purty, Mamma?"
"No, I don't guess I do..."
"It's because the angels came down and kissed it, that's why it's so purty...."
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Friday, March 10, 2006
Armadillo Wanderings
When Johnny Miller was small, he always somehow felt "different". But, as it turns out, most kids probably feel "different" than their peers. Johnny did not know this, of course - he thought it was just him. But, he did still live in a carefree, innocent world, where he was expected to do certain things, his daily chores and going to school and all, but never too much to handle.
He was aware, from a very young age, that growing up isn't all it's cracked up to be. He'd lay awake some nights, at 9 or 10 years old, thinking about how he didn't ever want to grow up. It seemed to him that grownups had tons of burdens - things that as a child he was spared. He supposed most kids couldn't wait to be grown up and independent - and although he was more than willing to do the work of an older boy - even selling papers for a time, and mowing grass - he didn't really WANT to be an adult. He wished that these days could last forever, but somehow sensed that they wouldn't.
Some of those sleepless nights, Johnny would lay there in the bed, and listen to his older brother Tommy across the room in his bed, saying "Nymph umm phut... I don't care if... Muphhf lutt blauf," then rolling over in his sleep and settling into a deeper slumber.
One of the thoughts he'd think, this little boy, would be about what life would be like without his father. It seemed, in the wintertime, his mother would often get sick, mostly because of her allergies, and sometimes would get so "down" that she wouldn't leave her bedroom for days, except, perhaps, to visit the bathroom. Yet, in his mind, it was his father who would die first. It wasn't a happy thought, by any means, but it was there, nonetheless.
Johnny was the youngest child in the family. His Dad was in his forties when Johnny was born, and his mother entering her forties by the time he understood what "age" was. Of course, every birthday, his Dad would be nineteen again, and on hers, his Grandma would be twenty-nine. Little Johnny was sorely confused when his mother turned thirty-nine. Something just didn't quite seem right there, when Mom turned 39, Granny was 29, and Dad was only 19. It didn't take him too long to figure out there was a skunk in the outhouse somewhere there.
When Johnny was fourteen, his worst nightmares became a reality, and his father did indeed pass on to the next world, leaving this one behind. His father had always been the breadwinner in the house, and his passing left the family without a whole lot in terms of material possessions. They had furniture, and a truck, but they also still had possession of the family farm out in the country, and the houses in town his Dad had inherited.
His mother sold the two houses in town, and they moved back out to the country, paying off the truck and putting some money into remodeling the house. That money did not last forever, but Johnny soon found part-time jobs to help out, and his uncle came to live with them for a while till the family could support itself again.
This older Johnny was dramatically different from the younger one. He had always been somewhat reserved and now it became more so. He sank deeper into the world of music and books, and nature. He'd often go for walks out in the forest near the house. He'd go through an old garden spot at an abandoned homestead up the road, looking for arrowheads left by Indians many years ago, or just traipse off through the woods looking for nothing in particular.
One day, he left the road, crossed the rusty strand or two of barbed wire fence that separated the "field" (now a very densely grown up patch of woods) from the ditch, and headed into the underbrush. About a hundred feet from the road, seemingly from right under his feet, and certainly no more than a couple of feet away, a fawn jumped up and high-tailed it off through the woods. Johnny had thought there for a moment that his heart was gonna stop.
Another day, actually probably only a few hundred yards from the very same spot, Johnny came upon a clear area, free from underbrush, where he saw the signs of an armadillo's rooting around for grubs and things. As he was examining the holes in the earth, he heard a rustle nearby. Turning and looking, he spotted the armadillo - and then it saw him. Most folks probably don't know what armadillos do when they're scared, but to back up a moment, we'll explain armadillo road kill.
If an armadillo is crossing the road, it's small enough that many a pickup will be able to straddle it and never even touch it. But many of the beasts lose their lives despite this, because unlike the possum's habit of playing dead when frightened, an armadillo tends to jump straight up in the air. So, many an armadillo that could have lived to see another day has died on the highways by actually jumping up and hitting the underside of a car or truck and getting rolled in the process.
On this particular spring afternoon, when Johnny spotted that armadillo, and it spotted him, the armadillo did what they do when frightened. It jumped straight up in the air – seemed like it must have jumped at least a foot, maybe more... Then it tore off through the woods like it's tail was on fire.
This was another time when Johnny's heart felt as if it were going to stop. He was not afraid of an armadillo at all, but to be walking along, hearing an occasional chirp of a bird, a rustle in the leaves as a squirrel travels along it's own made-up trail, hearing the wind swishing through the treetops, this is the time when peacefulness would enter into Johnny's heart. The calm and serenity of the forest would heal the broken parts of his soul. To have this stillness disturbed by the sudden uprush of activity as the armadillo, or indeed, even the fawn, jumped up and ran through the woods was a rude awakening to a dozing soul. But once the adrenaline rush was over, and his heart calmed a bit, Johnny was happier than he'd been in days, or even months.
The teenage Johnny would often return home from these “wanderings” recharged and ready to face a new day. As he'd lay his head down on his pillow in the evening, listening to the sound of cicadas in the treetops seesawing along, and hearing the whippoorwill call in the trees just across the way from the homeplace, he'd dream happy dreams...
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Soggy Sawdust
Name: Johnny Arthur Miller
Found: February 20, 1971
Exact Age: Unknown
In Johnny Miller's family, each of the kids had a 'birth story'. They came up with the stories on their own, or with the egging on of their siblings. And depending on the child's imagination, at the time, the stories tended to be a little fanciful. But once adopted, the stories 'stuck' and although the details may have been stretched in the retelling, the basic story stayed the same.
For example, when Ann Miller, Johnny's older sister, was born, she was born a little black baby. Now, there was nothing wrong with this, black folks and white folks are all the same inside - but the Miller family was and had always been a southern white family. So, understanding this, the doctors picked little Baby Ann up, and holding her by the thumb and index finger, dipped her down in a big bottle of bleach. This bleaching did the trick, and to this day, Ann looks like any other child who was born white. Except. For one little bit of her. That bit where the thumb and finger came together, effectively pinching her as she was dipped in the bleach. In that one little spot, she was still dark colored.
Now, some kids would have just pointed out that they had a birthmark, but, who's to say which story was better? Who is to say that the bleach bottle story wasn't true? Certainly little Ann told it as if it were. Her baby brothers, Johnny and Tommy, thought it was true.
Johnny Miller had his own 'birth story'. In some ways, perhaps, it was not quite as fanciful as Ann's story, but, it was his story, nonetheless, and as true as could be. You see, when Johnny Miller was a baby, the sleepy little town of Armadillo Creek had two factories - a glove factory, and a shoe factory, in addition to the logging, farming, and mining. Out back of the old shoe factory was a huge pile of sawdust.
Johnny never could remember why there was such a pile of sawdust there, but it was there. And sometimes, people would go with a pickup and shovel in a load of it and haul it away for some purpose or other, to put on the fields, or something. Johnny Miller's Daddy did this one day, and as he was shoveling the sawdust from the giant pile, his shovel struck something semi-solid. He reached down and raked the sawdust off, and, lo and behold, there was a baby boy there, buried in the sawdust.
Well, as everyone knows a baby should be cleaned up and taken care of - Daddy Miller could not very well just ignore this child, so he loaded him up in the truck, and headed into the city the next county over, where the hospital was. The doctors and nurses there took great care of little Johnny. In his telling, Johnny recounted that they had gotten water hoses to clean all the sawdust off of him, and then, out of his head - and they'd stuck the end of one water hose in his left nostril, and blew sawdust and dirt out of his right earhole, and then they'd switch to the other nostril, and back and forth, till the worst of the sawdust was washed out of his poor noggin.
Once he was cleaned up, he was a right presentable little baby, and the Miller family brought him home with them, and he was a welcome addition to the family. There were already the three older kids, and Tommy, and last in line was little Johnny. Whenever he'd tell this story to wondering adults or other kids his age, he’d finish it up by shaking his head vigorously, and asking, “Did you hear that sloshing sound? There still some water and soggy sawdust up there….”
Found: February 20, 1971
Exact Age: Unknown
In Johnny Miller's family, each of the kids had a 'birth story'. They came up with the stories on their own, or with the egging on of their siblings. And depending on the child's imagination, at the time, the stories tended to be a little fanciful. But once adopted, the stories 'stuck' and although the details may have been stretched in the retelling, the basic story stayed the same.
For example, when Ann Miller, Johnny's older sister, was born, she was born a little black baby. Now, there was nothing wrong with this, black folks and white folks are all the same inside - but the Miller family was and had always been a southern white family. So, understanding this, the doctors picked little Baby Ann up, and holding her by the thumb and index finger, dipped her down in a big bottle of bleach. This bleaching did the trick, and to this day, Ann looks like any other child who was born white. Except. For one little bit of her. That bit where the thumb and finger came together, effectively pinching her as she was dipped in the bleach. In that one little spot, she was still dark colored.
Now, some kids would have just pointed out that they had a birthmark, but, who's to say which story was better? Who is to say that the bleach bottle story wasn't true? Certainly little Ann told it as if it were. Her baby brothers, Johnny and Tommy, thought it was true.
Johnny Miller had his own 'birth story'. In some ways, perhaps, it was not quite as fanciful as Ann's story, but, it was his story, nonetheless, and as true as could be. You see, when Johnny Miller was a baby, the sleepy little town of Armadillo Creek had two factories - a glove factory, and a shoe factory, in addition to the logging, farming, and mining. Out back of the old shoe factory was a huge pile of sawdust.
Johnny never could remember why there was such a pile of sawdust there, but it was there. And sometimes, people would go with a pickup and shovel in a load of it and haul it away for some purpose or other, to put on the fields, or something. Johnny Miller's Daddy did this one day, and as he was shoveling the sawdust from the giant pile, his shovel struck something semi-solid. He reached down and raked the sawdust off, and, lo and behold, there was a baby boy there, buried in the sawdust.
Well, as everyone knows a baby should be cleaned up and taken care of - Daddy Miller could not very well just ignore this child, so he loaded him up in the truck, and headed into the city the next county over, where the hospital was. The doctors and nurses there took great care of little Johnny. In his telling, Johnny recounted that they had gotten water hoses to clean all the sawdust off of him, and then, out of his head - and they'd stuck the end of one water hose in his left nostril, and blew sawdust and dirt out of his right earhole, and then they'd switch to the other nostril, and back and forth, till the worst of the sawdust was washed out of his poor noggin.
Once he was cleaned up, he was a right presentable little baby, and the Miller family brought him home with them, and he was a welcome addition to the family. There were already the three older kids, and Tommy, and last in line was little Johnny. Whenever he'd tell this story to wondering adults or other kids his age, he’d finish it up by shaking his head vigorously, and asking, “Did you hear that sloshing sound? There still some water and soggy sawdust up there….”
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