Days of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and the World – José, Chapter 4

Tilting his glass and giving me a sly wink, Uncle Ernest continued his tale. “At about noontime Maggie walked me to the banquet hall, where I kissed her and sent her off to milk the goat and whip up some nice cheese for breakfast that week. When I walked in I saw a long table, chockfull of food and pitchers of wine, located in the middle of the room. ‘Holy smoke,’ I thought, ‘I’m hungry enough to try cannibalism; thank goodness for all of that food.’

“But, you know, naturally I forgot most of what he said in his talk before dinner. I’m kind of a slow learner anyway, remember Moose? I do recall his telling us not to retaliate when people insult us and tell lies about us. People like that I’d like to duke-out, though; you know?”

“You better believe it, Unk,” I yelled, throwing a few punches in the air.

“Finally,” Uncle Ernest continued, “after all the club members arrived, we sat down at the table in a long line, with José in the middle. And just as I took a swig of wine and reached over to grab a nice drumstick, José rose and said, ‘Hold it, folks; I want everybody to pull his chair away from the table for a few minutes.’ And then—and, Moose, this really blew my mind—he went into the kitchen and brought out a huge basin of warm water. With a bunch of towels slung over his shoulder, he knelt down and began washing our feet.”

“Holy crap, Unk! I’ve heard of people having hang-ups about feet.”

“No, no! José said that someday we would understand why he was doing it. Now, when he got to me (whose feet he washed last for some reason), I stuck my dogs into that, by now, dirty basin and told him, ‘Geez José, my feet’ll be dirtier than when I put them in. And, man, that water’s too cold.’ You know, Moose, saying that to most people would have teed them off, but José didn’t say a word; he just went and got some clean, warm water.

“Then, after he washed out my big ugly toe jams, he started drying my feet with the last towel. My feet did feel pretty good, but just for fun I looked down at him and said, in mock irritation, ‘Hey, José, you know, how come you’re not drying my feet with that long, wussy hair of yours.’ By golly, Moose, anybody else would’ve tossed that stinky water in my face, but he really had the patience of Job, for he just looked up at me, with those sad, hang-dog eyes, shook his head, and said quietly, ‘You’re a real handful Ernie, a real handful.’

“José then had all of us raise our glasses for a toast. He said that we were to join in with him as he gave the toast in the form of a song. Believe it or not, he started crooning, and after a while, when we got the hang of it, we all sang with him at the top of our lungs. And do you know, I still remember it.” With this, Nina, that goofy Uncle Ernest began singing the following: "Praise grapes from which all liquors flow/ Praise them to age in vats below. /Praise them then raise a hearty toast. /Praise wine it's what we love the most."

        “Then José said, ‘The hour has come,’ and I thought, ‘All right!’ And after José mumbled a few words we dug in and had a miraculous meal that afternoon. But it was odd how José broke our bread and poured our wine and asked that we remember him in the future whenever we enjoy a nice meal.

“And geez, it’s so peculiar, Moose, because every time I sip a glass of fine, red wine and dip that delicious French bread into my gravy, I think of José and all of the good times we had together in Daveston. During the meal some strange things happened, though. I noticed also that José must have had indigestion because he didn’t make a pig of himself the way we did.

“Then, as I chewed on a nice piece of sugar-cured ham, José said that one of us thirteen would betray him by turning him over to the Reeman soldiers. Hearing that made me feel so guilty that I almost couldn’t eat another slice. All the club members called out that they would never rat on him.

“Pete was especially emphatic, but José told him that he would turn his back on José three times before we had eaten two thirds of the fat capon on the table. Then José broke off a hunk of bread and handed it to Jud, who swallowed it as fast as a hungry dog under the dinner table.

“At this point Jud really burned me up when he grabbed the last bottle of wine and downed it. And the last straw was when he gobbled down the last pork chop. Moose, I really wanted that hooch and chop, so I grabbed him by the throat and busted him up alongside of the head. José parted us and banished Jud from the hall, agreeing with me that he was the one rotten apple in the barrel.” [To be continued Tuesday, 10/23/2012]