Tales told to Granddaughter, Nina. Part One.

I remember well, Nina, the things Uncle Ernest told me when he stayed with us on our farm for several summers in a row. He was supposed to have been helping my father on the farm, but I don’t think Pop ever got any work out of him on those long afternoons and evenings. Uncle Ernest sure did some funny things sometimes, but what I remember most are the stories he liked to tell about his younger days. And as my granddaughter I think you’ll remember them too, Nina, and maybe tell your grandkids about them someday.

       I was about your age at the time, seven or so, and on this particular evening I had gone with him to the famous Hole-in-the-Wall bar in Chesapeake City. When Uncle Ernest went into the bar to get his drink and chew the fat with old Birdie the Bartender, I ran over and sat on the canal bank grass and peered across. What a sight, Nina. The bright canal stretched out in front of me as I sat there crossed-legged on that warm July evening.

The tide was coming in swiftly and to my right a laboring tug boat was fighting the current as it pushed a fully-loaded barge along. Large, billowing puffs of black smoke hovered above as the barge moved at a pace so slow that I thought for a moment it was standing still, running in place you might say. The tug ran as if it were mad at the water, its prop churning vigorously, leaving a wake that would suck large pebbles down the shore, and surge in all the way to the naked tree roots on its way back. Pretty far behind it, towards the Delaware end, an empty tanker sat high in the water, looming like a black skyscraper in the distance.

Just about then Uncle Ernest sauntered out of the side door of the Hole-in-the-Wall, knuckled my head with his free hand, reclined lightly next to me in the grass, and said, “Well, Moose the Goose, how’s the world treating you?”

“Unk, will you tell me about the time you were in the airplane?”

“My memory is not as keen as it used to be, but that airplane adventure stands out pretty well,” he said, tapping his temple with his free index finger. “I had just lost a bunch of money on the ponies, and was feeling pretty low, so I figured I should get away from it all for a while. I hitch-hiked down to the Wilmington train station, waited for my chance, and hopped a freight train headed for Florida. Luckily I had my favorite relative, Ole Granddad, for my travel companion; I enjoyed his quiet yet potent company greatly, but slept through most of the journey.”