Times of Uncle Ernest - Chesapeake City and Beyond Chapter 4

Times of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and Beyond

Chapter 4

It's been a while, Nina, but do you still remember the story Uncle Ernest started telling me as I sat there on John Schaefer's wharf? That was years before the drive-in theater existed. As I watched a Great Blue Heron stalking the canal shore in that stilt-legged way of theirs, I heard Uncle Ernest's laugh coming from inside the screen door. He was in his glory; his glass was full. Then he eased beside me, still chuckling as the ice cubes clinked against his glass from the effort. "That's a good bunch in there, Moose," he said. "They like a good story."

"You were telling me a story, Unk," I said. "What happened when you were in that screwy submarine?"

"Hold on, now; let me get my bearings … OK, now I remember. I was telling you about the magic sub and that beautiful, red-haired woman."

"Whoa! Hold on, Unk. You said it was a poor old bag lady. You've had too much of that stuff."

"Don't get excited, Moose, I guess I didn't get that far in the story. Here's what happened. When the engine started running on its own, I opened a porthole and stuck my head out. There, sitting on the wharf, swinging her legs playfully in the sun, was the gorgeous gal I just mentioned. Her hair flowed and gleamed with radiance, making her smile all the prettier."

"Take it easy, Unk."

"She was wearing—I'll never forget it—a white terrycloth blouse trimmed in navy blue, and embroidered on the pocket was a matching, blue anchor. She had on pure-white shorts from which emerged tanned legs that made me catch my breath."

"Knock it off, will ya. Tell me what happened in the sub."

"It was enchanting, Moose. As I gawked with wide eyes and open mouth, she leaned over, cupped her hands around the back of my neck, and cuddled her face next to mine. Then she caressed the other side of my face with hers, and drew her face away so that we were gazing fully into each other's eyes."

"Cut it out, Unk!"

       "Her smile accentuated eyes that sparkled with delight. She had a face that made wearing makeup absurd. Assorted freckles gave character to her cheeks and her lips had the slight pucker of a woman capable of acrobatic love."

"For crap's sake. Knock it off!"

"With soft assurance she spoke to me, her eyes playfully scanning my face. 'Because of your kindness to me, Ernie, when I was in disguise, I am sending you on a series of adventures that will affect you for the rest of your life.'

" 'You and I can have our own adventure right here, Red,' I said, reaching to embrace her again.

" 'Call me Afrodidie, Ernie dear. You're very special and, be assured, we'll meet again.'

"Then she drew away, but as she did she flashed that smile once more, and I felt gentle thunder in my chest and flashes of light warming my body."

"Geez, Unk, give me a break."

"But then, Moose, the most unusual thing happened. As I stared, astounded by her beauty—her flowing hair, her smile, her sensual legs swaying rhythmically below the wharf, and her affectionate wave of goodbye—that sub began sinking. I closed the porthole hatch just in time, and in seconds I was completely under water. I grabbed the periscope controls and searched the area for Afrodidie. But it was no good … she was gone. Then, for some reason, I felt extremely tired, so I lay on the bunk, and as I drifted off to sleep I felt the vessel moving—first slowly, then faster, and then with unworldly speed.

"And where I ended up is beyond belief, Moose, but for now I have to hightail it out of here. I have an important conference with Birdy at the Hole-in-the-Wall. He's got some good stuff down there with my name on it, and I don't want that lift bridge to hold me up in case a ship comes through."

"But when can I hear the rest of the story, Unk? I asked with a nagging whine."

"One of these days; just keep your pants on till then. I've got some major partying tonight." And with that, Nina, Uncle Ernest sauntered off Schaefer's wharf towards Lock Street and the bridge, leaving me alone on the dock, with the water swirling below my feet and the thoughts of his screwy story whirling in my brain.

I'm sad to say, Nina, that it was quite a while before I found out where Uncle Ernest went in that magic sub. I got bored sitting there on the wharf, so I strode into Schaefer's grocery store, and there behind the meat counter was Frank Bristow, the butcher. Frank was a jolly, heavy-set man. He was cutting up some meat, humming, and sort of crooning along, and when he saw me he grinned. "Hey there, fella," he said, wiping his hands on his apron. He came up to me, stuck out his pinky finger, and demanded, "Here, pull this for me; will ya?" Well, I gave it a tug and Frank giggled his head off after he did his thing. He was funny, Nina, always clowning around and breaking up with laughter.

As a young man he was a good soccer and baseball player, and in middle age he coached a little league baseball team. But when I knew him he was just the renowned town butcher who, women remember, could tell a good piece of meat just by sticking his thumb into it. He worked until he died at about eighty or so. And, believe it or not Nina, they buried him in his butcher's apron and baseball cap. That's what folks have told me because, regrettably, I missed out on the festivities.

But, on that day at Schaefer's so many years ago, I left Frank and went into the restaurant bar to find my mother. She was there all right, enjoying the altered atmosphere that alcohol renders. After some time, reluctantly, she took me back to the farm. I found out the next day that Uncle Ernest had to go away for a while. It would be a long time before I saw him again. [To be continued Friday, 5/04/2012]