Basement Paradise
Good Old Mr. Jones by guest author: Alyssia Sims
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“It’s nice to see old man Jones sittin’ on his porch.” The boy couldn’t help but overhear the two women talk. He had been watching the two fancy dressed women for some time now. Every day he would watch those women walk through the town; they would always stop to chat a while about their daily affairs, never paying any mind to him, before going back to their walk.
“Your right dear,” the other lady said as she waved to old man Jones, “He just seems so peaceful.”
The boy watched the ladies walk away. Soon his attention turned back to the house. The turn of the century features of the house were covered by the leaves and branches of the oak trees in the front yard. The boy studied the house, looking at every window and following every corner of its exterior. The boy’s eyes fell onto the porch, locking with the eyes of Old Man Jones. The boy waved, but Jones didn’t wave back. The boy waved again nothing.
Being led by his curiosity he started to walk towards the house. Every day on his way to school he saw this house, and everyday he saw old man Jones sitting on his porch, from the moment the sun rose till it dipped behind the mountains. The boy stepped onto the gravel and began his long walk towards the house.
With every step he took, it felt as if time was slowing down. The hot day grew cool from the trees that covered the house. The boy scanned the luscious green yar; his eyes were soon caught by the brown and white feathers of the two geese. He stood frozen in hopes of not scaring away the birds. For a moment or two he watched the birds motionless. Had they seen me? He thought. He shrugged the notion out of his mind and continued walking.
He finally reached the side of the white washed porch. He could see the side of old man Jones, he was staring off into the distance.
“H-Hello Mr. Jones,” The boy said as he climbed the stairs, “Mr. Jones?” Mr. Jones was silent. The boy walked until he stood right in front of old man Jones. “Mr. Jones?” The boy said again as he lowered his face so that it was in front of Jones’. He examined every wrinkle and gray hair; soon his eyes were trapped within the glassy stare of old man Jones. The blankness of the old man’s eyes looked as if they were staring into eternity. The boy jumped back. “M-Mr. Jones? Are you dead?” The boy stared into the lifeless body. He ran to the door and began kicking and banging it like a madman, “Mrs. Jones! Mrs. Jones! Please open up, Mr. Jones, I think he’s dead!” The kicked and screamed until he heard the door lock unclick. He stepped back to see a large woman fill the door. He could the years laying her face. Mrs. Jones calmly looked at the boy with her brown eyes then stuck her head out the door, just enough so that she glimpse at Mr. Jones. “Mrs. Jones, I-I think that Mr. Jones might be dead.” Mrs. Jones took another long look at Mr. Jones then she looked at the boy.
“Oh, Mr. Jones is fine. Just the way I left him this morning. Would you care to join me for a cup of tea?
The boy looked around the parlor. The pink and white lilies were patterned all over the room. The boy sat in an overly sized chair cover with laced dollies. “Mr. Jones and I haven’t had company in a while,” Mrs. Jones yelled from the kitchen. The many lamps lights the room in a golden tone. It seemed that this room hadn’t seen time in a long while.
Across the room on an old brocaded couch sat a little girl pale with golden hair about the same age as the boy, she was reading, on her lap was a small kitten. Mrs. Jones’ head appeared into the parlor.
“Oh that’s just Elizabeth; she’s reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, a timeless classic. Don’t bother her; I love it when she looks peaceful.” Mrs. Jones looked at both of the children then went back into the kitchen to resume her cooking.
The boy looked around the room, glancing at each photo, when something white caught his eyes. His eyes darted back to the spot and there was a small white dog. His ears were perked back. His tongue was hanging out as if he was greeting his master. The boy got up from the chair and walked over the dog. He stuck out his hand for the dog to smell it, but he didn’t feel any hot air, no breath at all. The boy looked at the dog and touched it, it didn’t move. The boy picked up the dog and examined it, it feels real, he thought, but— the boy soon heard the footsteps of Mrs. Jones. He dropped the dog. Mrs. Jones’ steps stopped, the boy scrambled and put the dog back where he found it, jumping back into his seat.
Mrs. Jones entered the room she looked over at the dog, “I see you met our skipper; doesn’t he look cute like that?” Mrs. Jones crossed the room, fixed the dog, and turned her attention back to the boy. “He died over twenty years ago. I hate time; it takes the moments you hold dear away,” She walked over to the girl and placed her hand on the girl’s blond hair, “So Mr. Jones being a taxidermist he preserved my skipper. Actually I learned everything from him. You see those geese out there? Did them myself; the kitten too.” When Mrs. Jones lifted her hand from the girls head, some of the hairs fell out of place. Mrs. Jones scrambled to fix them, but bumped into the book causing it to crash to the floor. As Mrs. Jones went for the book, the boy looked at the girl. She sat their motionless, her eyes were the same as old man Jones; stuck in eternity. The boy’s face filled with horror. His heart started racing at the sight of the girl’s lifeless body. Mrs. Jones picked the book up and placed it back in the girl’s hand, “There you go dear,” the kettle began to whistle, “Ah! Tea is ready. We can finally have some relaxing tea.”
The boy sat there in the chairing at the girl, he was scared. Not knowing what to do. The thoughts of old man Jones, the geese, the kitten, the dog, the girl were rushing through his head. His thoughts were interrupted by the loud click from the door lock. His head darted to the kitchen. “Oh you can come and get your tea before it gets cold,” The boy stared at the kitchen opening. Mrs. Jones head appeared, “Don’t be shy, come, come!” Mrs. Jones motioned for the boy. He looked at her in horror then doing what he was told he walked slowly towards the kitchen. Mrs. Jones fallowed behind him, “You know I’ve always wanted a boy!”
The day was hot, hotter than it had been in a while. The fancy dressed women were taking their daily walk through town. When they stopped in front of the Jones’ house and waved to old man Jones. “Oh look, it seems the Jones’ grandson has come to visit!” The other woman turned squinted her eyes to see.
“Isn’t that sweet, he is offering his grandfather a glass of lemonade.” The women continued to chat the turned to continue their walk.
The End
Next segment: 10/17/11
Kev: Part of the Flashing in the Union Series by Guy A. Sims
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Kev
“Okay”, began Dania, “How’s this?
Dania and her boyfriend Kevin had been seeing each other since the beginning of the spring semester. Today they were on their way to a Communication Students club meeting in the Student Union. As they entered, Dania pointed.
“You see that section over there?” Kevin shook his head. He knew exactly what she was speaking of. It was always a point of curiosity for her. Kevin couldn’t remember how many times she mentioned that area but enough that he would remember. “I want you to sit there tomorrow at lunch.”
“Right!” Kevin responded skeptically. “That’s where all the homies sit.” Dania stopped.
“Afraid you’re gonna get carjacked?” Kevin first explained that you needed a car and secondly that he wasn’t afraid. “Then do it!” Dania had thrown down the gauntlet. This challenge was nothing new. They did this to each other all the time. Kevin remembered back to when he dared Dania to see if she could get this particular lesbian to come on to her. Although she feigned apprehension, the alcohol in her system eased her into the game. Now it was her turn. “You don’t have to talk to anybody, just sit and eat lunch with the Black kids.” Kevin felt uneasy but knew he couldn’t be punked by his girl. Reluctantly he agreed as they entered their meeting.
High noon the next day came quickly for Kevin. He entered the Union from Lang Hall. Once in the Coffeehouse, he quickly spied Dania in her predetermined seats with a couple of her friends. She and her friends silently laughed as Kevin paused in the middle of the floor. She still believed he wouldn’t do it. Kevin grew up in the small town of Ida Grove, Iowa and the only other Black kid he knew as a senior wrestler in high school. The Black kid’s parents had moved there from East St. Louis. They didn’t stay long though. Kevin never did interact with him, so in reality, he didn’t know any Black people.
Taking a final deep breath, Kevin swallowed a mouth full of courage and walked up to the table filled with African American students. As if he was invisible, he sat down at the edge of the table, bracing for confrontation. A dreadlocked young man sitting immediately to his right, turned from his conversation with a pretty brown-skinned young lady, and looked at Kevin.
“S’up bruh?” Dreadlock nodded his head as he spoke. Quickly, he checked out Kevin’s outfit. “That jacket’s tight.” That was the end of the conversation. He returned his attention to the young lady. For the remainder of his lunch, Kevin ate quietly, listening to the loudness, laughter, and other incremental conversations. Finally, as he stood to leave, several of the African American students waved him off. Walking away, Kevin had the feeling he could go back again, if he desired. He didn’t, but he knew he could.
“Well, how was it?” Dania was curious. Kevin ran his dark hands through her blonde hair.
“I felt like one of the brothers.” Kevin smiled. Reaching up and kissing Kevin’s cocoa brown face. She whispered.
“You are Kev. You most definitely are.”
Fins
Next segment 10/7/11
Prof. _______: Part of the Flashing in the Union Series by Guy A. Sims
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Prof. __________
She was new and she knew she was new. Although she tried to get her apartment secured and together prior to the start
of the spring semester, there were so many unforeseen issues needed to be resolved back in Wilmington that her timetable was completely topsy-turvy. Standing in front of the ATM in the Union, she was approached by on of the Union staff members.
“You look lost. May I help you find something?” She was tickled by his politeness, which wasn’t the norm back at her old school.
“I’m supposed to be meeting a student here but I don’t know—I can’t remember who…” She blushed with embarrassment. “I’m new here. I guess you can tell.”
“Don’t worry about that. If you’re supposed to be meeting someone here, I’m sure they’ll pick you out.” The staff member indicated he would keep an eye out for anyone looking like they’re looking for someone then departed.
She was glad that she didn’t tell that after four weeks in class, she still couldn’t recall a student’s name. Not that her interactions in class weren’t productive, in fact they were even better than some of her more seasoned colleagues. Her failure to make the connection on that level started to grind on her. She walked toward Essentials, hoping to see a young, lost individual, but unfortunately, no one fit her description. Students moved quickly from one point in the Union to another, seemingly on track to their next destination. Even those who were simply hanging out looked so purposefully relaxed that there was not possible way they were lost.
The sweep of the second hand on the wall clock caught her eye. It was almost two. Now comes the dilemma. She was asked by her department head to meet with the student. This was only her second interaction with the Department Head and now she had nothing to report back. She though about calling over to her department. Perhaps the secretary could go into her office and find the sticky note on her monitor and read the name to her. After finding a phone in the ballroom lobby, she punched the office number and waited. Two rings–”Hello?” The voice on the other end was unhurried and pleasant. She hung the phone up and put her head down. She couldn’t remember the secretary’s name.
As she ascended the stairs leading out of the building she was almost knocked down by a harried older woman. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then apologies melted the misstep. The older woman descended the stairs at an accelerated pace. She disappeared around the corner. “Faculty”, she murmured to herself as she stepped outside, “They’re the same everywhere.”
Back in front of Chats, the older woman inquired at the counter.
“Have you seen somebody who looks like they’re looking for somebody?” The counter person shook her head no. “I can’t remember her name but I was told that I should recognize her—she’s new.”
FinsNext installment 10/3/11/
Lela and Ted: Part of Flashing in the Union – Author- Guy A. Sims
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The weather couldn’t have been nicer for the Cinco de Mayo celebration. Just enough clouds to diffuse the warmin
g rays of the sun. The smells of the carne asada twisted and turned with the rhythmic strumming of the live Mariachi band. Carried by the warm spring breeze, the signal that the end of another academic year was carried from the Union to campus points far and wide.
Ted reached the top landing and looked across the Union’s roof. There she was. Sitting at one of the tables was his longtime girlfriend Lela, with smiles and fajitas included. They had been together since the end of the first semester of their freshman year. Now today, the last Friday before their very last round of finals, they relaxed, eating great food and reminiscing on their days at UNI. The way they discovered each other was a classic study in the collegiate romances. Ted was running late for a class in Wright Hall and Lela just finished a class in Sabin. Running blindly, he bumped Lela hard enough for her to drop her book, which took a single bounce and cannonballed into the water feature. Lela, clearly angry, and Ted, clearly embarrassed, both leaned toward the water and bumped heads, causing Ted’s I-Pod to fall from his pocket and suffer the same fate as Lela’s book. The laughter and humorous comments from the others in the area subsided their mutual anger and in the days that followed, their chance encounters became filled with increasing pleasantries. By homecoming, the two were great friends, and then by semester’s end, they were an item.
Ted was from Cedar Rapids, a self-proclaimed “big city guy” (as far as Iowans are concerned), who came to UNI on a partial baseball scholarship but lost it in his sophomore year due to grades. If it weren’t for Lela and her study habits, he would have, without a doubt, ended up back in the “C-R” working at Quaker Oats. She was his academic rock and he knew that the name on his diploma wouldn’t be complete without hers.
Small town Strawberry Point, home of the world’s largest strawberry, was Lela’s only claim to fame. She chose UNI, as it was the smallest of Iowa’s public schools. Lela figured that of the three universities, if she got lost at UNI, somebody was bound to find her. Coincidentally, her rescuer was Ted. His outgoing nature swept her up into a world of socials, road trips, parties, and fraternity sets. With each passing semester, she emerged further and further from her shell, eventually gaining the social confidence she always desired.
As the day flaked away into early evening, the two recognized the end of their collegiate career. The reminisced briefly on the highs and lows of their days, on the myriad of personalities they walked the campus, on their greatest teachers and their worst time wasters, and above all, how their love endured each passing stroke of the Campanile.
In a couple of months, Ted would be on his way to Kansas City, as a buyer for the Target Corporation. Lela on the other hand finally decided on continuing her education at the University of Chicago. Each spoke with a subdued tone as they reviewed their plans for the next phase of life.
It was time for work and Ted rose. He leaned and kissed Lela softly on the cheek. She stood, checked the time, realizing she had a couple of volunteer hours to perform at the CDC. The setting sun reminded them of how little time they had before Commencement. Departing in different directions, their minds held firm to one common thought. Should I break this off before or after graduation?
Fins
Next segment: 9/23/11
Dana: Part of Flashing in the Union – Author- Guy A. Sims
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Dana wiped her eyes. What was once hazy now became clear. She reached the top of the steps at Piazza and squealed with delight. Seven-fifteen in the morning and no one in line for breakfast. She started to run but decided to take her time. After swiping her card, she read the menu. “Special today. Belgium Waffles, Link Patties, and Hash Browns.” Dana’s eyes lit up. They were her childhood favorites. Just the thought of those delights took her back to mornings with Grandma in Maquoketa. Sitting down with the plate of her culinary memories, she noticed on the television an old Hanson video. “Ahhh, heaven!” She still had the old Hanson scrapbook back in her bedroom. This day was starting out great.
It was one-fifty seven when Dana noticed the clock in her Asian studies class. Normally she dreaded this class. The material was intense, the names complicated, and worst of all, the professor always called on her three to five times a session. Today, though, was different. Here it was, three minutes before the end of class and nothing. No questions, no assignments, no hassles. This was turning into a fantastic day.
Dana found herself texting her best friend from high school at five-seventeen from the Union’s computer centers. Usually their conversations centered on all the bad things happening in her friend’s life. Topics included her no-good boyfriend, her two children, and the lack of jobs since the plant closing. The conversation was always began and ended the same. That was, until now. Dana’s friend’s messages were upbeat. She had found a new guy who really liked her kids. In fact, she hinted this one was probably a keeper. Also, a new company moved into town and not only did she get a new job, the place had an on-site day care—free to employees. This was great news. Dana leaned back in her chair and pondered her next set of responses. Dana wished everyday could be like this.
Suddenly, on her screen a small circle appeared. As it grew larger, she watched it reshape itself into a series of digital numbers. Instinctively she tried to cold boot the computer. She didn’t want to be accused of spreading computer viruses. The computer didn’t restart and the numbers became almost as large as the screen. The numbers 8-1-5 blinked over and over. Dana rubbed her eyes, as she was unable to turn away from the monitor. Soon, an annoying buzz filled her ears.
Dana sat up in bed. She looked at her alarm clock. Eight-fifteen. She was late. Late for breakfast, late for class. She now didn’t have time to study for her Asian studies mid-term. As Dana got out of bed, her cell phone rang. On the other end was her high school friend—crying.
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Next Segment 9/18/11
Ronnie: Part of Flashing in the Union – Author- Guy A. Sims
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Ronnie strode slowly across the Union roof, pulled open the door closest to the Multicultural Center, crossing onto the upper plaza. At the end of the hall she saw her two closest friends, Ronique and Casey. Ronnie dropped her books with an echoing thud.
“Going out tonight?” Casey was quick with her question. She had been trying to get Ronnie out on the town for the past three weeks.
“I can’t girl. You know the deal.” Ronnie sat down, kicking her bookbag deeper under the seating. She couldn’t wait until the end of the semester. Ignoring Ronnie’s tiredness, her friends continued.
Ronique: “Come on Ronnie. Get what’s his name to hook you up.”
Casey: “Yeah. Besides, D’s gonna be at the spot and you know Kim just kicked him to the currrrrbbbb!” They all laughed. Ronique quieted first. “Ronnie, I know you got responsibilities and all but you got to get your thing on.” Ronique slyly winked at Casey. “When was the last time you got some simple grind action?” Amid the raucous laughter, Ronnie defended herself.
“Hold up! I gets mine, okay!” The three women continued their banter, enjoying their wordplay and teasing. Somewhere within the frivolity a date for going out was set with Ronnie now committed to ‘being in the place’ and having a long overdue good time.
Stepping off the Panther Shuttle, Ronnie felt the first drops of rain hit her head. She glanced at her watch as she picked up her pace—seven-thirty. She should have been back to her apartment a half-hour ago. Even though the rain picked up, Ronnie slowed as she ascended to her doorway. Taking deep breaths, she inserted the key and opened the door, not wanting to make a sound. The small apartment was quiet, save for the low sound of a music video. The lights were off so that the blue flickering from the television bounced off the compressed walls.
“Damn girl! Where have you been?” A rising voice filled the room. Ronnie began a familiar apology.
“Class ran late—and then I missed the first shuttle.” There was a flurry of activity from the opposing corner. “I told you I had to get to work, now I’m going to be late.” The voice became more frustrated while remaining level at the same time. Ronnie had been through this before. “I said that I was sorry. I’m in now.” The voice was now a person who was now putting on a coat.
“Look Ronnie, I don’t mind helping you out but I can’t blow my thing, know what I mean?”
“I know Chantel, I know. Where are they?” Chantel stepped into the doorway. “They’re in the back on the love seat. I just put them down before you came in.” Ronnie smiled appreciatively. Before Chantel could get out the door, Ronnie cleared her throat. “Chantel, can you hook me up for Saturday?”
Chantel let out a long, agitated breath. “I can’t. I got things you know. Get someone else.”
“I don’t know nobody else. I can’t afford no one else.”
“I know you can’t afford nobody. Hell girl, I’ve been doing it for free.” Chantel’s eyes dropped to her hands that she was now rubbing together. “Look, I’m sorry. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you.”
As the door closed behind Chantel, Ronnie could hear a stirring in the next room. She entered, turning the floor lamp to the first setting. There, asleep on the small couch were her two boys. The dim light stirred the older one. “Hi mama, “he murmured. Ronnie walked over, picked him up, and cradled him back to sleep. She knew she was in for the weekend—indefinitely.
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Next segment 9/14/11
Mr. Lance’s Saga – Author: Guy A. Sims
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Mr. Lance grimaced as he walked. No one believed him when he complained the orthopedic shoes he was fitted for made it hard to walk. Today, that didn’t matter. After living in Tampa for thirty-seven year, Mr. Lance had finally talked his doctors into allowing him to travel back to Iowa, back to Cedar Falls, back to the University of Northern Iowa. Dr. Payton had long been against extended travel for Mr. Lance due to illness but now, at age 84, there wasn’t much more modern medicine could provide. Some of Mr. Lance’s friends at the Palm Grove Community thought this trip was silly and unnecessary. For years, Mr. Lance talked and dreamed about returning to one of his most beloved places, the Iowa State Teacher’s College. Each time he looked at the ISTC pennant that hung on his wall, he was filled with heartwarming memories of days gone by. Unfortunately, with each year and each proposed trip, something came up. For twenty-four years after retirement, next year never came. Now, a captive at the Palms, he made the decision, no, the commitment to get back to his alma mater. “Don’t let your memories drive you to your grave!” Mr. Lance’s ‘friend’ Carl repeated his advice time and time again, and for years Mr. Lance had listened—but not this time. This year would be different, but this month, this week. Picking up the phone, he made travel arrangement.
Old Central Hall was missing. He was both marveled and confused by the growth of the campus. He expected change but not a transformation. Most of the places he remembered were long gone. There was Sabin and Seerely Halls, Baker and Bartlett, and thank goodness for the Campanile. Mr. Lance used that edifice as his point of reference. While the campus overwhelmed him, what astounded him the most were the people. There were so many. A stark difference to his day. Different races, hairstyles, and clothing—especially on the young ladies. Good gracious!
Mr. Lance traveled with his twenty-six year old niece, Tracy. With labored breath, he motioned they stop walking around campus and go into the student union to rest. Although he was tired, Mr. Lance felt a burst of energy when he saw the Essentials store. He knew what he was looking for. The cashier offered to help but Mr. Lance ignored her and began his search. His legs felt tight but he was determined to find his next coveted item. After several minutes, the cash register’s beeping brought his search to an end. Now he could sit down.
The two found a seat and Mr. Lance asked Tracy for a small coffee. She failed to see his wince as she turned to get his request. Mr. Lance muttered to himself as he opened his bag. He smiled even though a sharp pain crept up his right side. He reached in.
As Tracy approached, she noticed her uncle, leaning closer to the table. His eyes were closed and the bag was now on the floor. Tracy knew her uncle had the ability to fall asleep anywhere. She tapped his shoulder. Once. Twice. Mr. Lance slowly collapsed onto the table, no longer breathing, with his new UNI pennant clutched close to his heart.
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Next installment 9/10/11
Bruce’s Saga Author: Guy A. Sims
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“Who you callin’ a Nigger?” Bruce closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He wanted his words to have some heat when he released them…and they did. “I said who you callin’ Nigger?!” His eyes were transfixed on Caitlin’s face. He could see a slight quiver in her upper lip but overall, she remained motionless. “You don’t even know me”, he continued. “You go out with me one time and now we’re all comfortable with each other? You’d better check yourself.” Caitlin began to rise slowly from the Hemisphere Lounge table where they had just finished eating lunch. Bruce’s grip on her arm stopped her movement, then sharply thrust her back into the seat. If anyone was watching or listening, Bruce didn’t notice or care. “You think cause you watch some videos on BET and you got 50 blastin’ in your car, we family?” Bruce paused, looked down at his book, then continued. “You crazy!” Silence. “ You said Nigger pretty easy, say something now?” Sitting back in their chairs, Bruce noticed the time. “Let’s go. Class starts in 15.” Caitlin began to gather her books. “The skit is great but don’t do the hand thing…that always cracks me up. The two ascended the steps and began their short walk to Kamarick. “Pretty convincing for a White guy from Decorah”, laughed Bruce. “Know what I’m sayin’?”
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Next segment 9/4/11
The Mightiest Boot Stomp; Part of the Rife Powers Series- Author: Guy A. Sims
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THE MIGHTIEST BOOT STOMP 
Whenever a person was to get married, had a baby, decided on moving to another part of the land, or anything worth celebrating, the whole town would get together and have a Boot Stomp. Now a Boot Stomp was kind of like a dance, only better. Not only was there plenty of food and grand music but the dancing was done in the heaviest boots the people owned. Most everyone believed that stomping on the ground as hard as you could with your boots on would shake up the Good Luck Spirits. The Boot Stomp would go on for as long as the musicians could play, and most times they would play all night and well into the next day. Everyone loved a good Boot Stomp and looked forward to some event that would cause them to have one.
On the evening of the departure of the Jumble family, the town folk put together a mighty fine Boot Stomp. Friends and neighbors from close by towns came to join in the festivities. A grand time was had by all. The next afternoon, long after the musicians fell fast asleep, the Jumble family, Maw, Paw, and Jr., hitched up their wagon and headed west to find a new place to settle. They took the extra food from the Boot Stomp because they knew it would be a long trip to the other side of the land. What made the trip doubly long was that there was not a road that took you straight across. Sad to say, there was a great mountain range that sat dead center in the land. Once a person got to the mountains, he had to go all the way around it’s feet until they reached the road the continued on the other side.
It had been several days since the Jumble family started on their journey. One afternoon, they began to see the tips of the mountains that sat in the middle of the land on the horizon. As they neared it, Paw Jumble said, “Darn it all! We are gonna lose two full days of travel if we go ’round these mountains!”
“Well, what you suppose we do, Paw?” asked Maw Jumble as she chewed on an apple.
“There ain’t no road through them mountains, Paw.” added Jr.
Paw knew that there wasn’t a road so he decided that they would make one. Not only would it save time on their trip but it would make it easier for the next group of travelers. The family agreed and proceeded to cut a path through the mountain once they reached it.
The Jumble family worked hard cutting and marking a path through the mountain side. When they reached the highest peak, they felt that someone was watching them. Paw looked to the east. Maw looked to the west. Jr. looked to the four tall hats that were coming from behind the rocks. Scared, the Jumble family hid behind their wagon.
“Now y’all folks come out from thar?” bellowed a voice of a man.
“Yeah! We know yer there!” screamed the voice of a woman.
Paw Jumble looked out and to his surprise was a family standing in front of their wagon, holding nothing but musical instruments. The father was holding a banjo. The mother was holding a fiddle. The older sister had a washboard and the son held horn.
“We is the MacDitty clan and the owners of this here mountain!” barked Paw MacDitty.
“That’s right. We don’t take to kindly to strangers trampling through our hills.” snapped Maw MacDitty.
“So ya just better turn right around and get off this mountain and go around like everyone else.” sneered the older sister.
“Or else we’ll make ya!” added the son.
Paw Jumble just smiled. What could a family holding musical instruments do. Paw rounded up his family and began to move on until older sister started tapping out a beat on her washboard. Next, son started wailing on his horn. Maw MacDitty joined in with her fiddling and Paw MacDitty laid it all down with his banjo. At first, the Jumbles laughed. They figured that the MacDitty’s had been atop of this mountain for so long that they believed their bad playing could scare them away. But then Maw Jumble noticed her feet were tapping to the music without her telling them so. Next thing you know, she was dancing as wildly as the MacDitty’s were playing. Paw Jumble and Jr. were affected the same way. They were just a dancing and jerking like puppets on a string. The MacDitty’s kept on playing and soon the Jumbles were a-tumbling down the mountainside. Paw Jumble tumbled. Maw jumble tumbled. Even Jr. Jumble tumbled all the way back down. Soon all that could hear was the laughter of the MacDitty’s. Dirty, and angry, the Jumble’s returned to the town.
Soon after they arrived back at the town, the Jumble’s called for a town meeting. They told everyone about the MacDitty clan and that something must be done. If not, then everyone who ever wanted to go out west would have to travel around the foot of the mountains. The Mayor asked if there were any volunteers to go and rid the mountains of the MacDitty clan but most folk were afraid. Finally, an old seamstress spoke up and suggested that the Mayor go get Rife Powers to talk to the MacDitty clan. Everyone agreed and the next morning the Mayor set off to ask Rife Powers for the favor.
It didn’t take the Mayor long to convince Rife Powers to go and see the MacDitty clan. He loaned Rife one of his finest horses and wagon, as well as a sack of vittles for the ride. In a day or two, Rife reached the foot of the mountain range and began to make his way up into it’s foothills. Some time later, he came to the highest point, found a strong, shady tree, and sat to eat the vittles. It wasn’t too long before he heard a bunch of footsteps coming in his direction.
“You jes better git up from under that tree and git on down from this here mountain!” Rife looked up and saw the MacDitty clan.
“This mountain seems like it is big enough for me to spread out and rest under this tree.” smiled Rife as he pretended to go to sleep.
“You better do what paw tells ya or else we’ll have to make ya!” Rife noticed that it was the Maw MacDitty talking this time. He continued to act like he was asleep. Rife heard the daughter count to three and began tapping out a beat on her washboard. Next, son started wailing on his horn. Maw MacDitty joined in with her fiddling and Paw MacDitty laid it all down with his banjo. Rife felt his feet start tapping to the beat. Almost instantly, he was up and dancing. The MacDitty’s began playing fast and furiously. Soon, Rife found himself tumbling down the mountainside and crashed into the Mayor’s wagon.
When Rife returned to town, the news of his failure saddened everyone, especially the Jumble family. Rife told everyone to be patient and he would think of something during the night. They were to meet him at the town meeting center at noon the next day, which they did.
“I suggest that we have a Boot Stomp!” Rife announced.
“We don’t have time for no Boot Stompin’. We are trying to get to the west!” Paw jumble looked long and hard and Rife. Other folk were just as upset with Rife’s suggestion.
“Not just a Boot Stomp…but the mightiest Boot Stomp ever held. I want you to gather up your family and friends from all over. I want everyone to come with me to the mountain tomorrow.” Rife smiled as he turned to the Mayor. “And don’t forget to wear your heaviest boots.” The town folk didn’t know what to think but the Mayor told them to do as Rife said.
The next day, Rife, the town folk, and all of their family and friends, made their way to the mountain. They climbed the mountain and stood patiently when they reached the top. It wasn’t long before the MacDitty clan showed up fussing. They had never seen so many people on their mountain so they just started playing. The town folk heard the music and started dancing. The MacDitty’s fast and furious playing only made the people stomp extra hard. The people kicked up so much dirt and dust that the MacDitty’s played even faster. This made the people dance wildly. They slammed their boots so hard on the ground that pieces of the mountain began to break away. The MacDitty’s saw what was happening but they could not stop playing. For three days the music kept playing and the boots kept stomping. Finally, Paw MacDitty could be heard shouting, “That’s enuf! I can’t play no more!” When the dust and dirt cleared, the people looked around and cheered. All of the stomping had bust up the mountain so much that the land was now flat. Without the mountain, the cracks that were under the ground opened up a little to allow water from the north to flow to the south. Rife looked around and much to his surprise, the MacDitty’s were no where to be seen. The only thing left were the busted instruments lying on the ground.
Without the mountain in the middle of the land, travel to the west became very popular. Even Rife decided on seeing what the west had to offer. This time, when Rife said goodbye to the town folk, they decided just to have a big feast instead of a Boot Stomp. Rife understood exactly why.
Fins.
Next segment: 8/31/11
Hildy Jawjacker; Part of the Rife Powers Series- Author: Guy A. Sims
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Hildy Jawjacker
Everybody knows some folk that love to talk. People who can start conversating on just about any subject and don’t ever seem to want to stop. In the land, there was a family of non-stop talkers, the Jawjackers. The father, Quincy Jawjacker was a boot stomp caller. Why he was so good at boot stomp calling that it has been said that he could get you so wrapped up in his words that you would dance with a cow if he told you to. The mother, Mincy Jawjacker, was the only singer in the church choir. She was the only one and prided herself on being able to sing all the parts of any song all by herself. Although Quincy and Mincy were amazing talkers, their daughter would literally take the words right out of their mouth. Hildy Jawjacker was the most talkative person that anyone had ever met, including her parents. When asked what were Hildy’s first words, their parents can only reply that they couldn’t recollect since so many of them came out at once. As nice as she was, Hildy has swolled many an ear in her time.
It seemed that Hildy’s parents learned over time to control their talking. If there were times at town meetings that there came a call for silence, Ma and Pa Jawjacker would grit their teeth and hush up. Even though this took great restraint on their part, they could do it for almost five minutes before they had to start talking again. Hildy, on the other hand, just could not get quiet. She tried on many occasion to hush up but it seemed that the words would just leap from out of her mouth. Words would just fall out of her mouth between bites as she ate. Even while she slept, she could carry on a conversation with whomever she was dreaming about. For Hildy, there was never a good enough reason to be quiet.
Aside from the constant chatter from the Jawjacker home, the town was a normal place. That is until one day the Baker’s son went to draw up some water from the well. When he pulled the bucket up and looked in he saw that the water was very dark, as if someone had poured molasses into the well. The boy ran home and told of what he had seen. Of course, the Baker did not believe him. In fact, he had promised the boy a severe whuppin’ if he found that he was fibbing. The Baker marched over to the well and cranked the bucket down into the water. The boy, by his side, swallowed hard as the Baker drew up the bucket of what looked like molasses. Normally, the water was kind of gray but never like this. After seeing this, the Baker told the boy to run and check some of the other wells in towns while he went to get the town’s doctor. Anytime anything strange happened, town folk got the town’s doctor, seeing that he was probably the smartest man around.
The town folk had a meeting that evening. The doctor stood on top of a barrel and tried to calm down the people.
“How am I going to water my crops with molasses?” One farmer shouted from the back.
“It just ain’t natural to feed yer animals a mixture of corn, mash, and molasses.” added a pig raiser, “It just ain’t natural, I say.”
Even Mincy Jawjacker slowed her words down enough to get out her complaint, “You can’t make lemonade with molasses.” After that, she went back to just talking.
The doctor said that he had checked all of the wells in the town and found that whatever happened took place down near the ocean where their water came from. He organized a team of three men to go to the ocean and see what they could find out. The men struck out on their journey the next day.
The men reached the ocean by the afternoon and began to look around. The ocean, just like the water in their wells, had become thick and dark like molasses. As they walked up and down the shore, they noticed some bubbling a short ways off. They moved closer and notice what looked like a face in the molasses. They were mighty scared and started to run until they heard a gurgling voice.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me. I just wanted someone to come and offer me a contest. I ain’t never been beat in anything.” The face then turned into a complete man and walked out of the water. The doctor and the men were really scared now but they figured they better accept whatever challenge the Waterman had if they didn’t want to drink molasses for the rest of their days. The Waterman spoke, “Normally, folks like to bet on what they can do. I put the challenge to you to do something I know you can’t do. You fellas like to eat don’t ya?” The men nodded and like magic a table full of all of their favorite foods appeared. “My wager to you is that I can hold my breath longer than all of you can hold out from eating that food.” The men looked to each other, figuring they could wait to eat for a long time, at least much longer than the Waterman holding his breath. The challenge was accepted.
The men sat in front of the table and the Waterman took a deep breath. It seemed like hours had passed when the first man’s stomach got to aching. He got up and ran to the table and commenced to eating a large pork roast. The Waterman just smiled and continued to hold his breath. More hours passed and the second and third man felt weak from hunger. Eventually they dashed to the table and commenced eating a plate of fried chicken and potato salad. The Waterman just smiled and continued to hold his breath. It was long into the middle of the night that the Doctor became dizzy from hunger.
“Aw, I can’t take it anymore!” yelled the doctor as he jumped head first into a big bowl of rice pudding. The Waterman laughed and returned to the water. The four men finished eating and walked slowly back to the town.
At the next town’s meeting, it was very quiet. Even Quincy and Mincy Jawjacker spoke half as much. The people realized that they would have to get used to drinking molasses instead of water since nobody felt that they could beat the Waterman. That night after the meeting, the Jawjackers sat by the fireplace drinking tall glasses of molasses-ade. Somewhere between all of the talking, Quincy said, “I wish that there was something that one of us could do?” With that comment, the Jawjackers decided that it was time to go to bed. As she lay in the bed, Hildy decided that the next day she would strike out and try to beat the Waterman. It hurt her heart to hear about the sadness that filled her town.
Hildy reached the ocean around noon time and saw the bubbling in the molasses. The Waterman’s face formed in the water.
“Who’s up there talking up a storm?”
In between all of her talking, Hildy introduced herself and told the Waterman that she was willing to try to beat him at a challenge. The Waterman stepped onto the beach and looked at Hildy. “You seem to be a pretty talkative person. I bet I can hold my breath longer than you can keep quiet.”
Hildy thought about being quiet. It was something that she had never done before. Then she thought about the poor towns people, especially her father who had to now drink tall glasses of molasses ade. Somewhere in her talking, Hildy accepted.
On the count of three, the Waterman took a deep breath and Hildy shut her mouth tight. The Waterman figured that Hildy would only keep quiet for a minute or two but after an hour she was still silent. It was supper time when the Waterman offered Hildy a plate of baked fish. Hildy nodded in gratitude and opened her mouth. The Waterman’s eyes almost popped when no words came out. The Waterman then offered Hildy a tall glass of lemonade. Once again, Hildy nodded in gratitude and opened her mouth to drink. The Waterman wiped his brow. Hildy was still silent. The Waterman got another idea. He pulled out his fiddle and began to play a long, slow song. Hildy felt her eyes grow heavy and lay down to sleep. The Waterman’s smile soon faded into a frown. Even in her sleep, Hildy was silent. She didn’t even snore.
Several days had passed and the challenge was still going strong. Hildy had found a nice comfortable place to sit and the Waterman was beginning to grow dizzy. Slowly he backed into the water until only his face was seen on the surface. It began to turn blue. In fact, the thick molasses turned into a pretty shade of blue also. Soon, the face disappeared, leaving only clear blue water. Hildy decided it was time to go home.
No one ever found out why the molasses turned into clear blue water and Hildy realized that she could never speak again or else she would lose the challenge. There were two great mysteries in the town. Who changed the molasses back to water and what made Hildy Jawjacker so quiet. After a while the town folk stopped questioning these things but to this day the challenge is still going on.
Next segment: 8/27/11
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