Ike Willis

I love this story and such a happy ending for your dad Bethanne. I could just him chasing that antelope while you told his story. Thanks.

 

Evening folks...Bethanne here for your next story, sorry it took awhile !!

Anyone Ever Borrow Your Dad's or a Friend's Car and Abuse It In Some Way??

One Friday evening after supper, I must have been twelve, Ike said to dad he thought he's go into town and catch a movie, can Hop go if he wants. Dad said he thought I could. Then Ike asked dad if he could take dad's Buick. Ike explained his car and truck both needed some minor repairs and he really would rather not drive them until he could fix things. Right then I knew something was up. Dad hawed around a bit then gave in, no doubt sold by the thought of getting both of us out of the house. He warned Ike to bring that Buick back just like it was now. Not a scratch on her. Dad loved that Buick.
We got the Buick out of the garage, filled the gas tank at our gas barrel and headed for town. I asked what movie was playing. Ike answered he had no money so it didn't matter. He wanted some beer. Naturally I wanted to know how we would get beer with no money. "Watch and learn", he said.
On the south side of our county seat was a number of sand and gravel pits, owned by a construction company. These pits were full of water, some large and very deep. They were scattered about a huge tract of land. Most were hidden by the piles of sand, trees and brush. This tract of land was bordered on two sides by rural roads. Lanes led off these roads to various pit work sites. There was one pit in the back that was a favorite party site for the young folk. In those days, these pits were rarely patrolled.
Ike wanted Dad's Buick because it was big and black. A '41 Roadmaster Sedan. At night it looked somewhat like a cop car in those early 1950 days. Ike reached in back and brought out a 6 volt lantern like railroad people used. It had a clear bright light on one end that could be turned off, and a red light on the other end that flashed on and off when turned on. Ike instructed me to turn the red flasher on and hold it out the window as high as I could, when he said "go".
Ike said "Go", I turned on the red flasher, and held it up while Ike drove slow off the road and into the lane. We could hear yelling, car doors slamming, engines being started and revving as cars went tearing out the back way. We stopped at the now vacant party site and looked around. Loose bottles of beer and partial cases, plus open bags of snacks were setting around a bonfire. As we gathered them up, Ike said "well lookee here". He found a pony keg complete with pump. The keg went in the trunk, other beer in the back seat and we headed for town. Ike stopped at a house to pick up a gal he knew, made me drive to a parking spot while he and gal "used" the back seat. I listened to the car radio and sipped beer until they were done. Then I drove her home and the now drunk and happy Ike home.
Saturday morning it was raining so not much outdoor work could be done. Dad was up early to go out to the garage to check his beloved Buick. He looked over the outside very carefully, then checked the interior. Ike and I were in the barn tinkering with his truck. We managed to hide the keg and loose cans and bottles in the barn Friday night when we got home. The keg was secreted amid some hay bales and we both were both drinking the warm beer out of old coffee cans. It was near dinner time when sheriff Hagan drove into our back yard and went up to the house. Whenever he had to pay us a visit, he always tried to time it around meal time. Dad invited him in and told him to grab a chair at the table, did he want some coffee? Gramps was sitting in his rocker sipping from his fruit jar. "Hell no he don' want no coffee", gramps snorted as he handed the sheriff his fruit jar. The sheriff not only loved mom and grannies cooking, but gramp's whiskey too. Then the sheriff asked to see the Lone Ranger and Tonto. Dad yelled for Ike and me to get our butts in there. Gramps just sat there grinning like a fool, wondering what those two were up to now.
And that's how dad learned about our Friday night adventure. It seems someone got left behind in everyone's haste to depart the party pit. He hid in the brush, recognized dad's Buick and Ike and phoned the sheriff lying that we stole a keg of beer from a bar.
After dinner sheriff Hagan told Ike he might not want to hang around town for a while. That didn't slow Ike. There were lots of other little towns around us. Dad never let Ike near his Buick again and once again, I was grounded for life...

 

Happy Good Friday folks !!
Bethanne

Family Reunions
With summer coming on, it will be family reunion time again. Anybody here have any family reunion stories?
My family didn't do family reunions. Only once. Relatives living in a nearby town decided to try to get the families together with the idea of making it a yearly event. This family rented a park shelter and sent out newsletters with all the details and the suggestion to bring a covered dish of something. Well, this whole idea was not too well received. Dad argued against it, then said it was up to Mom about going. I thought ''s**t, we're going". Sure enough, plans were made, and on the appointed day, food was prepared and we loaded up Dad's old buick and headed for that towns park. All but Ike. He stayed home to work on an old Studebaker pickup truck he won in a poker game. I wanted to stay home too but, no luck with that despite my claims of being sick and threats to puke all over everything.
We arrived at the park, introduced ourselves to kin some of us never saw before. Most of them were townies. I noticed most of the boys my age were about half my size. Was that common among townies?? I was 10 or 11 then. All the kids there that was my size were in high school. Angel fared better. She made friends with the girls easily. Daryl stayed close to Mom. Things got frosty while we were eating our meal at the tables pulled together, with all the other families. Among the town families, was a granddad Harry, uncle Harold and his kid, little Harry, and at least two Harriets. Gramps, in his direct don't-give-a-damn way, said, a bit too loudly, "sure a buncha 'arry's here. What'd they do, run outta names"? Things got quiet. Folks at the other end of the table whispered something. When talk resumed, our family was pretty much ignored. Evidently, grandpa Harry and family were highly thought of among the townies. As if that was not enough, gramp's comments about some of the food caused a bit of a stir. He didn't say politely, "that looks good". His way was "what-in-the-hell"s that"? And that was the last reunion invite we ever received. I think the other families continued having them, just without inviting us.

Bethanne

 

Ha ha ! Love it !

 

Evenin' Folks
Bethanne
Any Deer Hunters Out There?
First Deer Hunt
Don't anyone hunt deer anymore? My town and surrounding countryside is awash in deer. They are jumping through store windows, wrecking cars, destroying gardens and crops and on occasion, attacking people. When I was a young snot, deer knew their place. I must have been about 10 years young when gramps decided it was high time I contributed something to the family larder. He was going to teach me the art of deer hunting. As he put it, "He ain't gittin any smarter. Best teach 'im now afore he gits too damn dumb to learn." Gramps was a gruff old codger but could be as soft as warm butter on occasion.
Our farm only had about an acre ot two of trees and brush in the back where our land joined a cousin's farm. Cuz had about 200 acres of nice woods. They didn't like us much so we couldn't hunt there. Except Brother Ike. He was 10 years older than I was and pretty much hunted wherever he wanted. So, we headed for a very large tract of timber along a river. Gramps and Ike scouted the area earlier. They hunted here near every year so they knew the lay of things. Being next to a river meant it flooded every spring so a game trail that was there last year may be changed this year.
Anyway, we got there before daylight. Gramps led the way to a spot along a game trail where a tree had fallen, catching it's top in the crotch of a neighboring tree. The fallen tree formed a natural ramp up into the standing tree. Gramps told me to get my butt up there. When I got settled he handed up our one gun and climbed up, settling himself next to me. Ike went on to another location.
We only brought one gun, gramps 16 gauge single shot shotgun. He said he would get his deer later, this was my hunt. Gramps had loaded his own shells with his home made slugs. He made me shoot behind the barn, at empty coffee cans until I could hit one each shot at about thirty feet. "You ain't gonna shoot at anything past that", he advised.
I'll always remember his words that cold fall morning. "Don't move from now on. If ya gotta look just move your eyeballs. If anything on ya moves, I'll knock ya right outs this tree. Any deer will be on that trail right under us. Point that gun barrel down and wait. 'member, if ya move," " You'll knock me right outa this tree" I finished for him. Gramps balled up his fist and gave me his "one more word.." look.
I don't think I ever sat so still so long. What seemed like hours later, I felt gramps poke my arm with his finger, ever so slightly. I strained my eyeballs to the side. Nothing. Other side. Young buck, standing in the trail looking down it our way. My heart was going pitty-pat like a jackhammer. Buck looked to the side, then, satisfied everything was ok, he trotted our way a few steps. I waited. It took a lifetime for him to pass under our tree. Gramps poked me again as buck stepped on by. I brought up the gun, cocking the hammer and aiming, and firing, all in one quick, smooth move, just as gramps taught me. I didn't even feel the recoil but I still see the buck drop in his tracks, relieved that he didn't run for miles to die somewhere that night like gramps said would happen if I made a bad shot. We climbed down to look at the buck. The slug hit him at the base of his skull in back, killing him instantly. Gramps gave out his cackling laugh and slapped me on the back so hard I almost puked.
Well, we drug buck out of the woods to our truck, hung him in a tree and removed his entrails. Then we sat in the truck to wait for Ike. Gramps rolled two cigarettes, handed me one then brought out his fruit jar of evil tasting whiskey from under the truck seat. We talked and celebrated until we heard a shot. That would be Ike. Gramps always said one shot means deer. More than one shot means the hunter missed. So, three happy hunters headed for town. Our town had a locker plant. They would process your animals as you wanted, package the meat and place it in a locker you rented. YOu could come and get any meat when you wanted. In later years we would buy our own freezers. We ate mostly game. Any beef and hogs we raised were sold. By the time gramps couldn't hunt anymore, my younger sister Angel filled in. She even took deer with a bow later.
At this point in my life, I think I would give all my tomorrows just to relive a few old times.

Bethanne

 

Thanks, Bethanne! Guns, cigarettes, whiskey....for a ten year old.....sounds like the original version of "No Child Left Behind"! I sure do miss your Dad!

 

Thank You for the kind comments....Dad is SO greatly missed...I still expect him to call everyday or that I need to check on him.
We are having the burial of his ashes on Father's Day weekend & a family get together afterwards so we are getting things in line for that.
But... here is another story to entertain you

Do You Hate To Throw Things Away?
Do you save old items thinking "these might come in handy someday"?
I do even yet. It's the way I was taught. I guess.
Every farm had a junkyard. Ours was under a row of good sized walnut trees behind the barn that marked the back boundary of the barnyard. In a way, that junkyard was a history of sorts, of the farm. Everything was in a neat row according to function. Was machines, kitchen ranges, old stoves and refrigerators went together. Then came the machinery. Old mowing machines, rakes, balers, a combine, plows, discs, cultivators, a wooden wheeled farm wagon, piles of old wooden fence posts and rolls of fencing. Then came the wore out tractors, trucks and cars. Some of these were bought at auctions for use as spare parts. Dad and gramps often came home from a sale with a non running machine just like one we were using. Their theory was it was much cheaper to keep the machines you had running than to buy new ones, if you had a cheap source of parts.
Household furniture made of wood was never thrown away. Wood could always be repaired or burned in our furnace, as a last resort. Overstuffed parlor items, sewing machines, vacuum cleaners, radios and such, went into the huge attic of our farmhouse. When I was a child I often hid away up there, pawing through the boxes and trunks of old clothes, books and magazines.
In my high school years gramps was spending much of his day in his rocking chair. On the front porch in the summer, in a kitchen corner by the radio in cold weather. When he couldn't be found in either place, I knew right where he'd be. He would be with his memories, in our junkyard sitting on a tractor he's spent so many hours on, or sitting in one of his old trucks. And that is where I found him, on his last day with us.

Have a blessed evening folks...Bethanne <3

 

Thanks, I enjoyed that one a lot....a little more of a slice of life instead of the trouble Makin' bad boy he was.

 

Evenin' Folks

Ever Had A Trick Backfire?
Anyone ever play a joke or trick on someone and have it escalate out of control? One evening gramps had gone to bed early. He'd had a pretty hard day for an old man, helping Dad and Ike bring in hay they baled. A few good swallows from his fruit jar whiskey and gramps was out like a light.
Lil' brother Daryl had one of those toy bows with a few arrows with the suction cup tips. Daryl was taught not to shoot the arrows at anyone, especially Sister Angel. She' rip his head off. Or our dog, Nutsy. He'd rip Daryl's head off. So, Daryl did the next best thing. He'd quietly stalked into gramp's bedroom, wet the suction cup with his tongue and rammed it smack onto the center of gramp's forehead. Gramps barely even stirred.
The next morning the whole house knew the exact moment gramps discovered the arrow on his forehead. His swearing awoke most of the household. Worse yet, when he yanked it off, the suction cup left a perfect round, dark red circle in the middle of his forehead that lasted for days. Gramps was teased unmercifully. In town, friends would ask who would give him a hickey there. Granny even got kidded about it. So the war was on. One morning, as usual, Daryl got up and ran to the outhouse. Angel was already up so gramps had her get ol' nutsy and tie him to the trellis outside the outhouse door. It was a Saturday so no school. Daryl was scared to death of nutsy. Daryl was in the outhouse yelling and screaming a long time that day. So, I helped Daryl out since I knew he'd never be able to think up anything. I put some grease from our grease gun into a can, gave it to Daryl with the instructions to use a stick and dab it under the shift knob on gramps truck. Also on the underside of the steering wheel. Nothing like a handful of gooey grease to start one's day. So, gramps retaliated with the telephone trick. He seemed overly fond of that one. For those of you who never seen one of those old rural wooden cased telephones with the crank on the side, the crank was attached to a magneto. When removed from an old phone and wired to, say a doorknob or screen door pull and cranked just as someone reaches for the knob, they get a good jolt. And Daryl got jolted. The old coot gave me one too, just for good measure.
I couldn't let that go, so I got Daryl to tie gramps shoelaces together in a knot when gramps was in bed. Once again, gramps swearing alerted the household. Gramps had a huge bag of tricks though. He got even by sneaking up to our bedroom after I was up and doing chores, while Daryl still slept. Then gramps pulled the throw rug in our room out part way into the hall, and pulled the door shut. The rug jammed the door enough that Daryl, in his haste to get up and to the outhouse, couldn't pull it open, thereby wetting himself, or worse.
Eventually peace was restored and things got back to normal, whatever normal was.

Bethanne

 

Ha ha ! I can picture the suction cup ring on Gramps head
Wishing you a grand day on Fathers Day

 

Good Morning Folks !!

Whiskey Run
One Saturday afternoon in the late summer, gramps and my big brother Ike were getting set to head out for uncle Earl's place over in the next county. They were going on a whiskey run. Earl made the fruit jat whiskey both gramps and Ike loved. They were taking the big truck, Dad's model A Ford 1 1/2 ton. "Can I come"? I asked, "No, ya'd hafta sit 'tween us 'n ya smell bad". Gramps growled. "I took a bath last night an I got clean overalls on". Ike laughed and said get in. Gramps kept giving me those side glances that he knew irritated the crap out of me. It was his way of making my ride as uncomfortable as possible. When I looked at him, he would look away quickly and grunt. Every so often I would see a hint of a grin.
We stopped at the coal yard in our town, bought as much as the old Ford truck could safely carry and started out for Earl's place. We always took Earl a load of coal as payment for his whiskey, even though he wouldn't ask for payment. Earl had money from an inheritance so he didn't have to do squat. He made his own sipping whiskey for something to do. Earl lived in a big old run down farmhouse with no electricity. So run down that he lived in the kitchen. The rest of the house was closed off. The kitchen had a big iron coal/wood burning cook stove, big table, some chairs, a cot and a sink that didn't work. Originally there had been a full set of outbuildings but Earl tore down the worst of them for the firewood. The big barn, where his still was, an open sided machine shed, outhouse and some steel grain bins were all that remained. Earl rented his land to a neighboring farmer who kept Earl in firewood and grain in return for some of his whiskey.
Earl was in his barn as we chugged up the rutted dirt road into his yard. He broke into a huge smile as he saw us. He was always happy to see us. Or, maybe just to get the coal. Anyway, Ike and I shoveled the coal into a pile in his machine shed where it would stay fairly dry. Then we sat out in Earl's barn, the men smoking, sipping and talking.
Just before dark Ike said we better go, the lights on the old truck were not too bright. So, loading the precious cargo of an old wooden crate filled with fruit jars of whiskey, into the back, we headed for home. On a downhill grade on a gravel road, a deer suddenly darted from the roadside ditch and in front of us, barely visible in the dim Ford lights. Ike cramped the wheel over, missing the deer but nosing hard into the ditch. The old mechanical brakes on old Ford were not too reliable either, like their headlights. That crashing sound from the back, followed by the aroma of alcohol could only mean one thing. Yep. Every single jar broke and the contents dripping off the truck bed into the ditch. That's the only time I ever saw gramps cry. And that's it. Nothing was killed, no one hurt. We got the truck out and made it home. Gramps moped around the rest of the week, hardly speaking to anyone. Dad would chuckle to himself every once in a while.

 

Aw - poor Gramps

 

Good Evening Folks
I haven't forgotten you !!

An Ice Cream Memory
Have you ever wanted something so bad you couldn't stand it ?
One hot summer afternoon I got a terrible hankering for some ice cream. I knew we had none but I had some money if I could only get to town. Big brother Ike was off in his truck somewhere and dad and gramps went to a livestock auction in the next county. I could drive myself in, but big brother Ike's car was tore apart and dad had the keys to his Buick. That still left two tractors that both ran.
Back in the '40's and '50's it was common to see kids driving tractors on county roads and tractors on streets in town were common. Still are in the little farm towns. I was big and husky as a kid so I was taught to drive as soon as I could reach the pedals.
I looked around to see who might be watching me. Mom, granny and sister Angel were in the house cutting material and making Angel some new dresses. Lil' brother Daryl was around somewhere out of sight. Asquietly as I could I filled the gas tank on one of the AC's, started it and drove out onto the road from one of our fields away from the house, so no one would see me.
My drive into town was without incident. I parked the tractor in an empty space in front of Lisle's drug store and soda fountain, on the town square. At last, I could smell and almost taste the ice cream as I walked in the door. Seating myself at the bar, I ordered a banana split. That first taste sent me right to heaven.
As I ate, Joylynn and her little sister entered. Joy was about my age, cute, almost red hair and went to my church. Somehow, I summoned up the courage to speak to her. I ended up buying her and her sister ice cream sodas. We were having a time joking and laughing when I felt a slap on the back of my head. It was Ike. He had been at a bar a few doors down and saw the tractor go by with me driving. "What the h**l you doin' here"? He asked.
After I explained everything, Ike suggested I get home before dad and gramps or I'd be in trouble, again. Ike suggested I drive his truck home, it was faster. He would bring the tractor. If he got home after dad and gramps, he'd just tell them he brought the tractor in to see if a used loader would fit that the implement dealer in town had.
Everything went fine. I got home before dad and so did Ike. We were eating supper and dad was telling about the cattle he bought at the auction, to be delivered the next day. Daryl started babbling, "where did ya go on the tractor Hop? Why did Ike bring it home, huh Hop, huh"? I wanted to strangle the little snot bucket. Where in h**l was he that he saw me? Mom, granny and Angel looked at me. By then they heard all about it but said nothing to dad. Dad looked at me with that familair "what now" frown of his. Gramps looked at me with a half grin. Ike just sat waiting for the explosion.
I explained everything. Surprisingly enough, nothing much was said, I think dad was just happy that nothing got broke, the sheriff was not involved and no one was hurt or killed. Just another hot summer day in a young boy's life.

Bethanne

 

Aah yes - the pull towards an ice cream on a hot summers day, is strong
I'd have been right along side ya Hop

Hi Bethanne, hope you and yours are well and thanks for another memory of your great family