The old folks like to sit around and ‘visit’ sometimes. They like to come to Mamaw’s on Sunday after church, and sit around on the front porch in the swing, and the rocking chairs too. Some of them whittle, some just takes out a chaw of tobacco and spit a lot. Other ones just come to Mamaw’s for the sweet tea and plate of cookies. Other ones are just lonely, Mamaw says.

Regardless, our house always seems to be a hub of folks, just coming and going and carrying on and visiting. I like it too, most times. Other times I just go fishing and want everybody to let me be, because that is just who I am. Mamaw sees me getting a little nervous, and she is so nice like that. “Hey Pete, you look like you could use some pond time, since you look a little puny. Go on now by yourself, set out there and catch Mamaw some fish, and get you some sun.”

Mr. Grover Sessuls sometimes comes by and ‘sets a spell’ with Uncle Muddy. Now Mr. Grover is Uncle Muddy’s best friend in the whole wide world. They both have ham radios (gotta have a real license for that); they sit around talking on their little handheld radios (called handy talkies) to folks all over the place. They have a repeater (like a relay station for radios) in town that they can talk to one another with, and they always say stuff like “roger” and “over” a lot.

They both have a radio shack at the house too, to where they can talk to people all over the world. Uncle Muddy just has a small antenna, he says its his dipole. Mr. Grover showed me HIS antenna though when I went to his house once. His is a huge tower that looks like one from a real radio station. He don’t have a red light on top though, but it must be 100 feet tall. He calls it his beams, and he can turn them every which way, with a motor on top. He must have fifteen antennas on his truck too, and twenty radios inside. He tells us he likes to be prepared if the balloon goes up.

When Mr. Grover drops by he always, and I mean ALWAYS has something in his truck for me and Shady. He always brings Uncle Muddy a six pack of beer too, but he kind of sneaks that to Uncle Muddy. He will say something like, “Hey there Mr. Pete, why don’t you go look in that sack on the front seat of my truck? I got you and Mr. Shady (he calls everybody Mr. like we are important) some stuff to gnaw on, gimcracks and play pretties in there for you boys.” He always grins, and he makes sure even Mamaw gets something.

Mamaw says he is just kind like that; he don’t have children of his own so he just kind of looks at all of us Hegelunds like family. He is always happy, even if he is sick or down in his back too. This time he brought me and Shady a whistle he carved out of oak! Made them all by himself and each one looks store bought. And those whistles are loud! He brought us jawbreakers, and each a big bottle of soda too, our favorite kinds. Mine is grape, and Shady likes lemonade. Mamaw had to put Shady’s whistle up, because he would NOT stop blowing it, while folks was trying to talk.

Generally, when everybody is sitting around, the topic always turns to Mamaw’s favorite topic; them that is high on trucker pills and takes dope, and how they need to change their ways. Folks generally nod in agreement, but Mr. Grover always reminds her that not all truckers take pills. Mr. Grover was a long haul trucker for 40 years, and he said he did it all on coffee, tea, and at least 6 hours of sleep a night. And the only pill he ever took was aspirin.

In Mamaw’s eyes, there are five things that will send you to lucifer’s lair straight off: trucker pills, taking dope, whiskey or beer, playing with matches and dressing like a floozy. Sometimes she will add gambling to her list, but she does like to play a hand of poker just for fun with Uncle Muddy sometimes.

She always says to anyone who will listen, “Thank the Lord Jaysus above I don’t have to raise no girls, and have them try and run off with some slick dude high on dope, acting like a dollied up Gomer-looking floozie running off to God knows where, up to God knows what!”

Uncle Muddy just scowls, or says something smart aleck to her. “Charlene,” he says sometimes, “Maybe you ought to snatch the big honking plank out of your sanctimonious eye before you try to pull a speck out of somebody else; heck they might even be holier than you! I would bet they shore run their mouth a lot less than you do! Don’t your Bible say stuff about them that gossips?”

She stomps off into the kitchen for a minute, all the while calling on “the Lord Jaysus to please keep her demon possessed brother from sliding headfirst into the pit of Perdidion!” She goes there to “recombobulate” and she pretends to bring somebody something, or sits there fake washing the counter off.

I don’t know why him and Mamaw can’t just agree on stuff, but Uncle Muddy says he is agnostic; he calls Mamaw a “self-righteous, self-made devout Bible thumper.” Double Mamaw says, “Them two are a firestorm a-waiting to blow up all the time. One of them is the match, and the other is gasoline. They get together and WOOSH, there they go on fire!”

That’s my family, the whole crazy mess that it is. I love them every one!