Times of Uncle Ernest

Times of Uncle Ernest

Chesapeake City and Beyond

Section 1, “Didie” – Chapter 1

My Uncle Ernest was one crazy man, Nina. He was my mother's only brother, and I'm sure you remember that during the early forties he used to stay with us on our farm near town here in Chesapeake City. Uncle Ernest soon became a familiar figure in the bars of our town, on both sides of the canal. His favorite bar was the great Hole-In-the-Wall, on the South Side of the canal. Right next to the bar was Slicher's Shoe Store, where my mother took me one afternoon to get a new pair of shoes. When we walked into the store, the first thing I saw was a colorful statue of a parrot. Slicher sold Poll Parrot Shoes, and that bird was so real that I thought at first that it was alive.

Well, Mom stood there, looking around impatiently and holding my hand, until old Mr. Slicher shuffled over and nodded. He was a short man with a big, shaggy mustache. The thing hung unevenly over his lips, Nina, sort of balancing the equally shaggy growth above his eyes. And it was stained, beautifully discolored from, I suppose, tobacco juice and coffee. When he started talking I took notice because he did so with great effort. He had advanced asthma, causing each phrase to be followed by a series of wheezing, a sound that startled my young ears.

After buying the shoes, we went next door to the Hole-in-the-Wall to see if Uncle Ernest was shooting the breeze with Birdy the Bartender. He wasn't, so we walked across the Lift Bridge to Schaefer's Restaurant where, sure enough, he was enjoying a drink and the company of John Schaefer. Then Mom joined the conversation and forced a few glasses herself just to be sociable. She sent me outside, where I sat at the edge of the wharf, facing the canal, with my legs dangling below the rough board ends. I watched the current swirl past the black, splintered pilings below. Seaweed, discolored foam, and occasional driftwood rushed by, sometimes clinging to the pilings, causing small whirlpools to spin for a while before disappearing into the dark water.

Clanking steel on steel made me look up to see the roadbed of the lift bridge rising, pulled up by the chains, and as it rose the counterweights on each side descended, rumbling to the base below. I watched a Model A Ford chug to a stop right up against the drop gate there on the North Side. And across on the South Side was a more modern Roadster, also waiting for the ship to sail through. Then I saw it, Nina, an enormous freighter. From Schaefer's wharf it looked as if it was going to ram right into the South Side Bridge Tower.

But then, to my relief, it glided on through and moved broadside to me, a black skyscraper blocking everything else from view. Empty, it rode high on the tide, and as it passed its propeller churned angrily at the water to its stern. I heard a swooshing sound and I looked to the left at the shore. The water rushed out furiously, pulling mud and pebbles as it went. Soon it gushed back to shore with the same vigor, and breakers churned the murky sand. They collided with the piling I was leaning against and, as the ship cruised westward, the pattern continued—rushing water out, rushing water in. But with each series the force diminished until, except for the current softly heading east, everything became calm as before.   [To be continued Tuesday, 4/17/2012]