Dry Holler Ky. Revisited

Early 80's Deja Vue all over again.

Spring in the early eighties,

A journey that was made in the fifties.

Highways are much better now,

Zipping along hardly noticing the countryside.

 

An old white pick-up-truck,

Inched slowly along,

It seemed oblivious to the path it followed,

Seeming to know its destination.

 

The driver was an old man,

Seated by his side two young boys,

Father and sons, all the way from Florida.

Keeping a promise, long time in coming.

 

They turned onto a gravel road,

Barely wide enough for two cars to pass.

After a short distance,

It became nothing more than a cow track.

 

At long last they turned onto a creek bed.

Finally  the truck turned onto a logging road,

Pulling up to the old home place,

The poplars were gone. Sold to the mill.

 

Pointing to an oblong stone.

Resting on the bank of the creek.

"That is where the house stood.

All that is left is the hearth stone."

 

"Grandpa planted  those pines. The apple tree is gone.

He cleared the benchs all the way to the ridge.

Raised corn for the animals,

Your grandma loved those apples, Grandpa and I loved the land."

 

He lowered his body,  to one knee,

And to make his point,

He kissed ithe ground,

As a man would kiss a long lost love.

 

On top of the old truck was a load of roofing tin,

Hauled all the way from Florida.

It would be the roof when the house was rebuilt,

That was why they had come.

 

On the way they had stopped at the mill.

They had ordered a house pattern,

The lumber to build the house,

Was on the truck that arrived after them.

 

First to frame the floor and nail on the flooring,

This would be an unusual house,

It would be what is called a box house.

Unlike any you have ever seen.

 

No two by fours in the walls.

They would consist of boards nailed,

To the floor joists, standing straight up.

Then nailed to a board around the top.

 

The ends of the boards chainsawed off,

Then rafters were put in place,

and topped with the roofing tin.

The house was put up in one day.

 

The doors were framed with a "Z",

Hinges were screwed in place

Where two boards came together

And sawed top and bottom, they swung open.

 

The boys and I would sleep there that night,

A promise made long ago,

A long time in coming, but kept none the less.

"Grandpa, I told you I would rebuild some day.

 

 I have never found a place,

That could give solace to my soul.

The old place has been sold for Judas' gold,

But Dry Holler is in my blood and will always be my home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Cherrie Palmer]

everyone should have a place like that :)

[Butterflymom]

It was beautiful in the raw, and is still beautiful!!!

[Jonathan Bryant Dean]

I was one of the boys in this story. It is my dream to someday rebuild. It may be a long time coming, but that is my dream.

[Sean Allen]

Even better the second time around Frank. Your skill with the pen is something we can all envy. or perhaps you are just telling it lke you remember it!