Days of Uncle Ernest - Chesapeake City and the World – Lizzie, Chapter 2

Days of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and the World – Lizzie, Chapter 2

While Uncle Ernest fixed his drink, I did a few forward rolls and, dizzy, sat up just in time to see a robin dart onto the grassy island next to our pump trough. She stood erect and motionless, proud red breast puffed out, and beak lifted high. She then skittered quickly across the grass with her body tilted level with the ground like a speed boat leveling into its plane. Stopping abruptly, she again presented that boasting chest and attentive head.

In a flash, she pivoted her body downward, placing her beak about an inch from the ground, with head tilted as if listening for some weak though important message. She stabbed the ground, bringing up a wriggling, startled worm. Repeating her quick-footed, level dash and her martial stance—with the frenzied worm dangling in her beak—she flew swiftly off towards the cedar trees as Uncle Ernest, clinking the fresh cubes in his glass, sat beside me with a grunt.

“What was under those leaves, Unk, a pile of money or a pot of gold?” I asked, excited.

“Moose, when that fellow disappeared like that I thought all that liquor finally killed all of my brain cells, even the strong ones. You know what it’s like when you wake from a bizarre dream sometimes. For a few waking seconds you’re still there in that wacky, absurd situation. You think that you really did just fly from the ground to the top of a tree three hundred feet away. Or, for those few seconds you really believe that someone you love—now dead—is alive, and you rejoice in it until the mind in short, quick, logical steps sorts out the fuzziness and pierces you with the truth.”

“Aw, Unk, stop it; you’re scaring me with that talk.”

“Sorry my boy, I forget sometimes that you’re just a kid, but you know dreaming can have the opposite effect. Something horrible can happen but when you wake up you’re relieved that you were only dreaming.”

“Yeah, that sure does happen to me, but what in the world was under those leaves anyway?” I asked again.

“Well, when I came to my senses I walked over to the park and started brushing aside that enormous pile of oak leaves, trying not to look like a fool messing with leaves that somebody took time to rake. I kept brushing them for a while and was about to quit when my fingers struck something hard. When I cleared all the leaves away, I found a large basket, big enough for several people to sit in. Inside the basket were rope and a gigantic balloon made out of some kind of rubberized canvas. Under the canvas was a round tank with printed letters reading: ‘Never needs refilling—press button to take off.’ ”

“Geez, Unk!” I yelled. “It was a hot-air balloon?”

“Right you are, Moose. And it was magical and from the ancient world, just as the guy I helped said, and I put it to use right away. When I get back, I’ll tell you what I did with it.”

As Uncle Ernest trudged towards the house to visit once again with Ole Granddad, slamming the screen door hard as he entered, I thought about what had happened one evening last week. My Pop and I went down to see old Bill Herman and his horse, Babe, for some reason or another. You remember old Bill from an earlier story don’t you, Nina? At any rate, while Pop was chewing the fat with Bill, I walked down to look at the pigs that were rooting up the ground in their pen. As I trotted towards the pen I heard a high-pitched squeal coming from the well area.

I ran over and there in the grass on the other side of the well was a black snake coiled around a young rabbit, squeezing the life out of it. The rabbit was whining to beat the band as the snake squeezed and maneuvered the rabbit’s head towards its open jaws. I ran over and whacked the snake with a stick till it slowly uncoiled from around the rabbit and slithered off into the weeds.

Well, Nina, I’ll tell you, I felt great about saving that rabbit. I rubbed it awhile, as it took deep breaths and shivered, and when I set it down it wobbled a bit but then hopped slowly and carefully out into the field. Feeling proud about myself, I started walking across the wooden top of Bill’s well. All of a sudden—in a split second—I was at the bottom of the well, treading water and trying to cling to the brick sides.

In the old days, Nina, the wells were dug by hand; the sides were bricked up, and the top was covered with wooden planks. To get water, you would lift up the hatch, throw down a bucket with a rope attached, and haul up the fresh spring water. A tin cup was always next to the well so you could take a long, slow drink.

Bill’s well was so old that the rotten planks couldn’t even hold the weight of a small boy, but I yelled my head off till Pop and Bill fished me out. Believe me, Nina, I was scared. Pop yelled at me and made me promise not to go near an old well ever again. My thoughts returned to the present when Uncle Ernest returned, grinned at me, and took a long, grateful swig of his drink.  [To be continued Friday, 7/27/2012