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Part Two
Well, to make a long story short,
(too late) those valley and mountain people of Yell County just seem
to always support their own, even those fifty years removed, and when
launching day arrived, we sold seventy books that day. Equally
importantly, they ate up every last scrap of that salt pork. Even
more importantly, I had a chance to renew a lot of very old
relationships. Edith Turner was there. She was ninety, but not
anywhere near the oldest person in Wing. My children, Corey and
Kinley, found out she was a friend of my mothers. My mother passed
away when they were at or near infancy, and they are now at or near
forty years old. They just could not seem to let her go, just hung
with her every word, until long after the big event was over. She
told them story after story of my mother. Kinley said, “Holding her
hand was like finally getting to hold the hand of my grandmother.”
Corey and three others, at great risk to life and limb, climbed up to
the old classroom above. The stairs were long gone. I started up the
ladder, but at the top was a three foot wall, to keep people from
climbing up, I guess. Well, I'm sixty eight years old, so I headed
back down. But Cindy Turner Buford, who I knew was at least eight
years older than me, (maybe more, but who's counting) but is upper
middle aged by Wing standards, scrambled up and over that wall. When
they were all about to come down, Corey came first, and I saw him
standing under that ladder, panic in his eyes, already holding his
arms out as if to catch someone. He told me, “There's a lady in her
seventies about to come over that wall!” I didn't worry too much
about that. Those normal age limitations don't always apply to Wing
people. I grew up with Cindy, just a tall ridge over. We often
communicated with a loud holler, that went something like this:
“Whoooo, Whoooo, Whoooo eeee ouhooooo! Of course, that was back at
a time when I could still holler that loud. I well knew Cindy could
have climbed that tallest mountain behind Wing again, if she set her
mind to it. That hill up to her house was about as steep as any
mountain around.
Anyway, in the old classroom,
they found the name of Leta Lazenby who left Wing forever in 1930,
still written plainly on the chalk board, just like it was when I saw
it in 1950. That chalkboard was made, it appears, by painting or
spraying something on those very wide, virgin pine boards.
It also had a lot of new names. Seems
climbing up there has become a “rite of passage” for Wing
children. Nephew Ken Gillum said, “It was just like stepping back
in time.” The old classroom had not been used in at least 80 years,
maybe much longer. Nobody living knows for sure.
Effie Turner, an icon of Wing, ran
the store next door all during my child hood. She died in 1979, at
one hundred years of age. During her lifetime, she rode to Wing in an
oxcart, and saw men walking on the moon. Her son, JR, passed away
last year at one hundred two. Elois Hunnicutt, just across the road
and down the lane, still grows a large garden at ninety four. But she
fell, out in that garden last year, and broke some bones. She managed
to crawl to her back door, but could not get in. She had to lay out
most of a day and a night. Remember, cell phones don't work well in
Wing. But she's back now, as lively as ever. I know I'd have a hard
time keeping up with her now, doing the kind of day's work she does.
My sister Jonnie taught Sunday
School classes in Fourche Valley for many years. Once I visited her
class. The best I remember, her youngest class member was in his
ninety's.
Scientists should do a study of
folks in the Valley. Try to figure out how they live so long and so
well, here in a remote place far from a major hospital. But actually,
I already know. People in Little Rock would be shocked to realize how
quiet, peaceful, and wonderful life can be, only sixty miles away
from the hustle, bustle, rush, and tension of life in a major city,
with next door neighbors often a mile away. My Dad always said good
fences make good neighbors. A little distance can do the same thing.
So, here I am now, hustling about,
doing one book signing, one book reading after another. Trying to
get Spreading Wing into the hands of enough people so that someday,
Amazon and Kindle can take over their share of the load, and let me
ease up a bit. After all, I am an old man. But I'm having the time of
my life. I'm learning some good life lessons along the way, though. I
was scheduled to read one of my stories at a Senior Citizen's Center
a few days ago. But as luck would have it, I was scheduled to start
reading my story along about the time the food was passed out. I
thought my story was one of my funniest, but I don't remember hearing
many laughs. All I could hear was a hundred or so spoons hitting
plates. I'm always a little nervous starting a reading, then when I
hear a few laughs, (and it does not really seem to matter if they are
laughing with me or at me,) I just seem to feed off that and really
enjoy the rest of it. But that day, I was nervous all the way
through. Like I say, I'm learning some good life lessons along the
way. But on the other hand, I did sell books as a result. Beats the
heck out of hauling hay at a penny a bale, like I did as a kid at
Wing. Now, I'm not saying my Dad ever paid a penny a bale for hauling
OUR hay. That was when I hired out to someone else. Of course,
hauling hay was not nearly as embarassing.
Continued - four days.
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