Friendship

The folks living around Armadillo Creek are about as country as country can get. In some cases, families have lived there for generations - the town and outlying communities in many cases were settled in the early 1800's.

Johnny Miller's family had migrated to what would later become the United States in the late sixteen hundreds and early seventeen hundreds, prior to the Revolutionary War. Indeed, some parts of the family had been here for hundreds or maybe thousands of years, as members of the Cherokee Indian tribe. Some of the patriarchs were colonists in Virginia who fought for independence in the War.

Over the years, as the family grew and spread, roots were laid down in Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee, and the family continued to move westward. In the mid eighteen-hundreds, one branch of the family put roots down in the forested valleys outside of Armadillo Creek. This same, or similar stories, could be told for many people who would someday settle down in the beautiful hills around Armadillo Creek.

By the time the Civil War broke out, at least one of the members of the family, Johnny's great, great, great Grandfather Riley, fought in the state's infantry division. Riley's mother was a Cherokee Indian, and eventually, he would marry another. And their kids would stay and farm the lands and raise children here for many years.

The homesteads that were settled in those years between eighteen-fifty and nineteen-hundred would stay in the family for generations, before gradually being sold, as people moved on to new adventures, or the depression and drought forced them to find jobs elsewhere.

By the nineteen-seventies, when Johnny Miller was born, the town of Armadillo Creek had been through boom-times and bust-times, and had survived it all rather well. The folks were friendly. For the most part, they were "settled". There were new people moving in, gradually, as industry moved into the bigger towns nearby.

Johnny went to school with a lot of other kids, but they all knew each other. The Armadillo schools were the largest in the county, but to qualify that, his graduating class was only forty-three people. The smallest school had only about a dozen. Some of his classmates included cousins. Most of them probably were related in some form or another even without knowing it. Such was country life.

In early elementary school, Johnny's best friend was Clifton. Clifton lived almost all the way over in the next school district, and eventually, would change schools. He lived with his elderly grandparents, and always fascinated Johnny with his colorful language. Not the "colorful language" of today, which consists of many vulgarities, but a color born of being raised by old fashioned country folks. He would say, "Gosh darn it, that there tree root is in the way of our cars," as they made "roads" in the dust underneath a huge, old spreading cedar tree with their matchbox cars. The tree's tangled roots were wonderful place to drive their cars during recess, because some of the roots would stretch above ground for a ways, before gradually sinking into the dust and dirt. The possibilities were endless, with roads around the roots, under the roots, and in some places, over the roots.

Later, after Clifton moved away, a new kid moved into the area. James was a good kid. Quiet, but smart. Johnny and James became best of friends. They'd share thoughts and stories, and by this time, had outgrown the matchbox cars. They'd discuss books they had read, or comics, or ... pretty much anything that crossed their minds. Neither was too athletically inclined, and by the time they reached junior high school, neither cared to play sports, although they did the mandatory PE classes - as they had no choice in the matter.

Later in their school years, they would be joined by a younger boy, Bill. Bill, too, was a quiet, but smart, kid. By the time Johnny Miller and his friend James were in the tenth grade, and Bill was in the ninth, they were always together when they had the chance. They'd spend many an hour discussing books and music and movies and anything that they could think of. Sometimes, they'd talk about girls, but all of them were too shy to actually approach one with anything besides "friendly" intent.

The bonds of friendship forged in those days would last for many years, as each of the boys grew up and grew apart, and went his own way in the path of life. One would one day join the military and move far away. Another, would become a writer, and move away for a while, then return. And the third would move across the state to live in a bigger city where more opportunities existed. Through all the lifestyle changes that each encountered, this thread of friendship would bring them back together when times were tough.

A Good Man's Love

Armadillo Creek is like many small towns across America. It has older folks who have been brought up in "country ways". Sometimes this could be bad, as old habits, old traditions, old stereotypes are taught. But, usually, there's a sense of goodness that exists in people who love and are loved by their families, both the close and extended members. There's faith and values and traditions that are handed down through generations that somehow seem to be lost in the bustle of city living.

For Johnny Miller, one of the highlights of his young life, was time spent with his Grandpa. As anyone who knows Johnny's Grandpa would realize, he was often silly, and full of fun, with a huge heart. One of the many funny little sayings, which might not have any meaning to anyone outside the family, but a reaction of, "WHAT?!?!", is:

"You great big, stand up in the corner, and cry for buttermilk."

He'd tease the kids with that one... in his loving and friendly way. Over time, the kids would learn to roll their eyes, and just keep on going, but the younger ones always lapped this stuff up. He was the one "older" person who would do this - take the time to talk to them as if they were his whole world.... Even if what he said was a little silly.

Another of his sayings was "It'll feel better, when it quits hurting."

This is a very true statement. True, you might roll your eyes at it's obvious nature. But, stop and think about it. Most pains... Most ills... Most wrongs in this world, will feel better... When it quits hurting. In other words, time can heal a lot of things. Time, love, tenderness. Grandpa was the holder of all these things.

Another of Grandpa's sayings, and probably the one that "stuck" with most of the kids, was:

"If you don't quit, you're going to keep on...."

Silly, yet, when they first heard it, it made the kids do a double-take, because they'd think they were about to get in trouble, and instead of a threatened punishment, they got something funny. Yet, the point was made, and if the kids were just playing, they'd continue to play, and if they were doing bad, they'd usually stop before it did get serious.

Life was good, in Armadillo Creek, as little Johnny knew he would always be loved.

Bad Behavior

In the sleepy town of Armadillo Creek, kids had a lot of freedom to be kids. They were often allowed to roam around to neighbor's houses, or wherever they wanted to go, pretty much. This independence sometimes was a good thing. It taught them a little about self-esteem and self-worth - to be trusted to do things on their own without an adult nagging them about every little thing. And, at times, boys did what boys did, and got into trouble.

Johnny Miller was probably a good boy. But, like most other kids of his age, he didn't always behave the way he should have. One time, while they were out in the yard, taking a break after doing some yard work, his mother said, "Why don't you go fill up my coffee cup?"

It might have been a question, but it wasn't so much the words, it was just... Johnny felt he was being put upon. This one time, instead of minding, young Johnny yelled at his Momma, "I am not your slave. I am tired of doing everything for you."

And he ran away. That is to say, he ran around the house and out into the field for a while. He found a quiet place, where it was just him and God, sitting on a log in the edge of the woods. After he had some time to think about it, he walked back up to the house, and apologized to his Mother for being so rude, and ... went and fixed her a cup of coffee.

Like most kids of the day... and yes, even today... Johnny was occasionally a bit lazy, but mostly just tired of parents who took him for granted. He had no doubt that his parents loved him, very much. And, walking into the house, and pouring a cup of coffee for his Mother was no big chore. She had probably been working hard for him and the family all day, and no doubt did not feel appreciated either. But he was at an age, a pre-teen, where the world was often just not quite right. And, he'd blow off his steam in some way or another, and get it out, and be a decent boy again, for a while.

One day he would come to realize that parents made many sacrifices for their kids, and they felt "put upon" when the children did not listen or behave properly. But in that day and time, Johnny lived, day by day, as good as he could, and although he would occasionally have a "bad" day, most days were good.

There was another time when his temper would flare up - only this time was different. It was the only time in Johnny's childhood when he really did something he considered terrible, and he was consumed with guilt and shame afterwards - even though no harm had befallen anyone.

His Daddy worked with tractors. There were lots of times when Johnny's brother Tommy, who was a year and a half older than he was, would get to "go" with Dad while Johnny had to stay at home, with Mom. This too got old, sometimes. It just didn't seem fair, somehow, for Tommy to get to go and do all those neat things - whatever they were.

This particular day he begged and begged to go, but to no avail. He just wasn't big enough to tag along, and so he got left behind, once again. He studied on his situation, and decided he'd get back at them for being so mean to him. He found some nails out in the shed, and took them back to the place where the tractor was parked, and lined them up behind the big old rear tires. The nails were several inches long, and might, or might not, have pierced all the way through the big tires.... but the fact remained, that Johnny had done this thing, and with ill intent.

His Daddy spotted the nails, and came looking. This was one time, where the "spare thy rod, spoil thy child" proverb from the Bible came into play. The child was not spoiled! But, at the same time, although he did receive his well-deserved punishment, it was not overboard, and Johnny would never again intentionally try to harm someone or someone else's property.

Take Me Home

In his younger days, Johnny Miller did not know all about diseases and famines, hurricanes and wildfires. All he knew about was that he lived, day by day, in a home where he was loved and taken care of, and as long as he did his fair share, he had no worries about what was going on "out there". The small town of Armadillo Creek was nestled in the mountains, a protected area, where tornadoes were uncommon, floods never too severe, as folks had enough sense to build their houses on high ground, and famine was just something you caught a glimpse of on the nightly news.

His parents didn't much encourage a lot of television watching, but he did have just a few favorites. There was, of course The Waltons. The show, it seemed to him, was set in a much simpler time and place. The Walton family did not even own a television set. And, if anything, the family was larger than Johnny's own. In a lot of ways, the Walton Family was like the Miller family. There was Walton's Mountain, so named because the family had been in the area for so long that they were a part of the country. Near Johnny Miller's family farm, there was, similarly, Miller Mountain. Miller Mountain was on land owned by the US Forest Service, and so not a part of the family property, but the fact remains that the Waltons and the Millers had been in their respective areas so long that even parts of the countryside was named after them. They really did have some things in common.

Johnny Miller's favorite television show of all time was The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams. In this show, a man accused of a serious crime escaped to the mountains, where he learned that he had a natural affinity for animals. They somehow trusted him, without inhibition, and he would do his best to fix their problems, mend broken wings, or whatever was required. He befriended and adopted a baby bear cub, named Ben, and they lived together in a cabin deep in the forest.

Johnny always dreamed of being able to forage through a forest, untouched by the white man. He somehow felt that he had been born into the wrong world - and instead should have been living a couple of hundred years ago and able to explore the remote wilderness, with nothing but animals for companionship. There was something magical about this idea, and the show gave him a glimpse of what he had missed, by being born into this modern era, full of mankind, and his farms, and cities, and highways, and dams.

He memorized the lyrics of the theme song, and would sing along... It was his anthem:

Deep inside the forest there's a door into another land.
Here is our life and home.
We are staying here forever in the beauty of this place all alone.
We keep on hoping.
Maybe there's a world where we don't have to run.
Maybe there's a time we'll call our own, living free in harmony and majesty.
Take me home.
Take me home.

Back in those days, there were no fears of AIDS or other blood-born diseases. When Grizzly Adams, and his Indian friend Nakoma became blood brothers, Johnny and Tommy Miller and their cousins thought that they needed to become blood brothers, as well. And although, in reality, they did not slash their palms open with a hunting knife, and bind them together with leather straps, they did try.

And the bonds of friendship and brotherhood formed between the brothers and cousins would live within them for the rest of their days. And when things got bad, later on in life, they would always know that they had a place to call home. No matter where they would lay their heads, their family would always be there.

Walkabout

Did you ever go for a walk through the woods, all alone? Not on a marked trail, but, rather, just roaming, exploring new paths, or old logging roads that are grown over now? To walk through a stand of young trees, and have a "Bambi" jump up and run away, shrieking, seemingly from right under your feet?

One hot Saturday afternoon, Johnny Miller decided to go for a "walkabout". In the years when he lived in town, in Armadillo Creek, his parents trusted him and his community enough that he was allowed to roam quite a bit, and sometimes he took those liberties to extremes. On this particular day, he just needed to get away for a little while. He didn't tell his Mom where he was going, but he took the time to tell his brother that he was going to climb the mountain behind the house, maybe even walk out to the old family cemetery on the road out to the farm, a few miles away.

So, he crossed through the garden, over the fence and into the woods, and started climbing up the mountain. A little while later, he found himself up on the ridge of the mountain, where many years ago a logging road had been cut through, and he followed that faint path down the ridgeline to the highway, going out of town, heading toward the south. He walked a mile or so beside the highway, then took an old dirt road out past some farms, till they stopped by a creek.

He had remembered, as a little boy, hearing his father and uncles talk about how, years ago, they'd cut across this way on their walks into town, cutting a few miles off the journey. On this particular hot day, Johnny found a shallow part of the creek, and waded across, and on the other side, now, was fields full of mixed breeds of cattle. He walked up the trail through the fields, and out to the road that went back down to the old Miller Homestead, and next to the gate leading into those fields from the main road, was the cemetery.

He walked around there a bit, looking at tombstones, curious about his ancestors who were buried there. There was his Dad's father, known locally as "Turkey Jim" for having been such a turkey hunter as the area had never known. It was said that he could sneak up on a flock of turkeys before they even knew he was there. Turkey Jim had passed away before Johnny was born, and it made him sad to think that he had missed such a character, and the stories he must have been able to tell.

Later, he made his way to Turkey Jim's father's gravesite, and his father's and his, up to Riley Miller, who had been in the state's infantry unit during the civil war. Seeing so many generations of his family, in one place, but laid to rest, was sobering to Johnny, and after he left there, and started trudging his way back through the fields, heading home, his thoughts were lost somewhere up in the atmosphere.

As he crossed one narrow patch of woods, between two fields, but before the creek crossing, Johnny noticed another trail heading off into the woods, at an angle to the one he was following. It was a road less traveled, obviously not used in many years. But, something called to Johnny, and he thought, "Well, how about I go down just a little ways and see what's there?" And, so he started down the new trail. He had been walking for quite a while, when he got to the edge of the woods, and found a clear-cut area. It was a place where the Forest Service had authorized a logging company to come in and harvest the timber, some time in the fairly recent past. The faint trail through the woods, here, turned into a little more well-defined road, through the clearing, and that little voice inside Johnny kept whispering, "Keep going... You can always turn back later...."

About halfway across the clearing, there was a trickle of water crossing the road, a stream, of sorts. Johnny squatted down and took a long drink of water from the creek. He noticed, with a smile, that there was a minnow there, in the shallow water, trapped by the stream, which was drying up in the hot summertime. He reached down and scooped up the little fish, and it squirmed there, in his hands. He then put it down in a broader, deeper part of the stream, where it might have a little better chance of survival.

Johnny crossed through the remainder of the clearing, and came to a well-maintained gravel road. From here, he had an idea of where he must be, back behind the mountain that ran behind the old Miller Homestead, and, in his mind's eye, he thought it was only a couple of miles back to town if he just kept on going, and went out to the highway running out of Armadillo Creek to the east.

Unfortunately, it had been some time since Johnny had been down this road, and riding in a car that someone else was driving seemed to take a few miles off of every journey. A few hours later, Johnny walked into his home, just as darkness was falling, and the television show Airwolf was on. From the point where he had hit the gravel road, until he got home, the journey was almost fifteen miles. All told, he had walked probably about twenty five miles or more that day.

But the story wasn't over, for when he had not come home for supper, his Mom had sent Dad, and his brother Tommy, to look for him. Since Tommy had been the last person to see him before he started his walkabout, and knew that maybe he had gone out to the cemetery or something, they had decided to look around there. They had stopped at the gate, next to the cemetery, and went on down into the farmer's fields, looking for signs of his passing (and they did not find any). But, while there, his Dad got their truck stuck in some mud, and Dad and Tommy walked out of the fields, and back to the owner's house.

The owner of the farm brought Dad and Tommy back home, as it was getting too late in the day to start digging the truck out, and they had to get a ride back out the next day, to go and pull the truck out of the mud with a tractor. Johnny never even remembered if he got in trouble for his adventures or not. Certainly, he probably got a lecture, but the day had been filled with overwhelming happiness, a boy, on his own, exploring a wild and remote countryside.

He went to bed that night, eyes filled with stars, head filled with dreams of a fish that had been in his hands, if only for a moment, and all was well in the world.