Through the eyes of Hershel Williams
My name is Hershel Williams, and I live in Appalachia in a little town that’s about the size of a good spitball. More specifically, I live on a gravel road with a peculiar name. I don’t know how the road got its name, but I’m sure some female had a hand in it. The name of the road is Lovelady Road. Sounds like something a woman would come up with, doesn’t it?
For most of my life, I’ve made a living making moonshine. Used to be, there was more money in it than there is now, but I still manage to get by. It doesn’t take much money for a man who has no one to spend it on and no place to go. I used to have a family; a wife and a little girl, but I lost both of them to the flu. I’ve never understood how God would take the good out of a man’s life and leave him with nothing to hold onto, although, I have to be honest and say that I haven’t been on speaking terms with Him much since my wife passed on. I have spent lots of time being mad at Him, and I reckon He probably feels the same.
Anyway, I was born smack dab in the middle of the Great Depression, as they call it nowadays. I don’t know what was so Great about it. As I recall, it was a terrible time. It was a time when people who had very little went without even more. Folks went to bed hungry on a regular basis, and lots of people passed on because they couldn’t afford a doctor or even a mid-wife. Dysentery, even worms, got many a child. Parents didn’t have the money to buy shoes for their kids, so children got a lot of their misery through open sores on their feet. People used paper or whatever else they could find to fill the holes in their walls. Windows that had no glass were covered by tar paper. A drafty house was often the forerunner to whooping cough, which killed plenty more. Couldn’t grow anything and couldn’t buy anything. Like I said, I don’t know what was so Great about it.
Since I was a boy, things have changed a lot. Down the road from me, lives the Judkins family. The fellow, Davis Judkins, I’ve known all his life. His Pap is the one who taught me how to make ‘shine. Buck Judkins was a cantankerous old man, but he was able to bring kids into the world up until nearly the day he died. Buck sired many a child, some not even with his wife! In these parts, we called him “arounder.” Somebody might go a round once with some gal, but Buck was arounder, which meant he went around with many a woman, many a different time. I never understood how he could be that way to his Mrs. as she was a nice lady, a good church going woman, if there ever was one, but Buck wasn’t one who was apt to change his ways for anybody. I reckon what they say is true – a dog will always be a dog. I suspect his wife knew about his doings, but back then women had few chances and even fewer choices as to how she raised her family.
Davis Judkins has a disposition more like his Mam than he does his Pap. He’s a quiet fellow who seems to be blessed with the gift of patience. His wife, Alice, is one, I suspect, with a mean streak. Now, I’ve not had much to do with her, but I knew her Mam too, and that woman had a lot in common with a rabid badger. I’ve never seen Alice act up, but I’m sure it’s in her makeup.
Once, I heard tell about Alice’s Mam, whose name was Anna, lighting into a traveling salesman. From all accounts, the fellow was just trying to make a dollar, but you’d thought he was trying to crawl in that old woman’s window and take advantage. As I heard tell, the poor fellow barely got his foot on the porch before she came out of her house and lit into him like a nest of hornets, and as everybody knows, there’s nothing worse than a nest of riled-up hornets. After she got done blessing him out as to how he should be ashamed of trying to take the money of a God-fearing woman when she had so many young’uns to feed, and threatening him with a rolling pin, he hit the road lickety-split and never came back. Real shame really. From what I was told, he had some pretty interesting things in his travel-all. I don’t think anybody shed any real tears when Miz Anna went to meet her maker. Be a real disappointment if her sort got into Heaven.
Davis and Alice have a young’un who seems to be a mix of both sides of her family. She’s got that dark red hair like her Grandpappy and a lot of curiosity that’s surely to get in her in a fix one day. Now, I have to say that she came by her curiosity honest enough, but she talks all the time. Seems I can’t go by that house without her standing on her porch and asking me some foolish question that doesn’t concern her one bit.
One time, I broke my finger, and she was quite the Nosey Nelly when I went down to get her Mam to fix it. Usually, I wouldn’t have gone to Alice, as she’s got her ideas about how I live my life, but she’s the only mid-wife around. Anyway, that girl was all eyes and ears as to what was going on and what was being said. I’m pretty sure she could tell many a tale about the happenings in her own house and probably a lot about everything else too.
Now, I have to say that Alice did do one nice thing that I’m sure of – I expect Davis probably had a hand in it. Alice and Davis named that little gal Ruth Anna. Alice took part of my wife’s name and part of her own Mam’s name. My wife and her Mam were the friends. Don’t ask me how it came about, but they were. It sure surprised me when Alice cobbled that girl’s name together, but my wife was tickled pink.
Ruth Anna has got an aunt, her Daddy’s sister, who took the curiosity she was born with and turned it into something else. Plain old nosey is what that woman became as she got older. She has a habit of making it her business to know the business of everybody in these parts. That woman’s name is Eula. Eula lives up at the other end of Lovelady Road in what she calls a subdivision which is really only three houses. I don’t know how three houses can constitute a subdivision, but according to her, it does.
To be clear, Eula is as big as she is wide. When she comes at you all jiggly and wiggly, you’re never sure if she’s going to roll over you or just land on you and smother you to death. And, Lord have mercy, but that woman has got her own young’un. His name’s Cletus. He takes after his mother a lot. Not so much in nosiness, as I have never seen him take much interest in anything but the television, well, that, and food, but he does look a whole lot like his Mam.
Eula is a Pentecostal. A holy roller on a mission for God, as she’s fond of saying. I doubt God needs her help in finding out the goings-on of everybody in the community, but she still says it’s her responsibility to look after the faithful and the not-so faithful. I suspect that last one was directed at me, but I let that slide. Seems to me, it’s just an excuse for her busybody ways, but there is one thing I do know. Trying to stop that old heifer is about as likely to happen as being able to stop the wind from blowing. The key to surviving a windstorm is not to stop the wind from blowing, but to be wise enough to get out of its way so it doesn’t knock you down in the process. Same premise goes for Eula.
Eula is married to a little fellow that she can boss around. I don’t know much about him, his name is Paul, but I figure he must be a good fella as he has to put up with her all the time. Maybe, he bit off more than he can chew by marrying her, but who’s to know what it’s like living in another man’s house. I just know that if’n she were my wife, I’d probably been the one to end up mean as a rabid badger. I’m pretty sure there’s some folks who need killing, but we won’t go into that right now.
Of course, we have our fair share of riff-raff living on the road. They’ve got junk piled up in their yards and act like it would take an act of Congress to get them to clean it up. I try not to get closely acquainted with their sort, as I learned a long time ago that if you lie down with dogs, you often get up with fleas. However, I do keep an eye on ‘em. Their sort tends to leave me alone for various reasons. One, I am proficient with my Remington, and, two, many of them are customers or have been customers. As they say, never burn a bridge that you might have to cross later.
Well, I reckon that’s enough for now. I’ve got to head into town to pick up some supplies. You never want to start a new batch of ‘shine without having the ingredients at hand. Moonshine will kill you if it ain’t made right.
