Days of Uncle Ernest - Chesapeake City and the World – Lizzie, Chapter 5

Days of Uncle Ernest -

Chesapeake City and the World – Lizzie, Chapter 5

Looking over towards the lawn chair, I saw Uncle Ernest leaning back with his hands behind his head, so I ran on back to hear more about that strange girl on the island.

“Yeah, Moose, Lizzie really was something. We had exchanged names after a bit of small talk and cuddling, and after a while she said, ‘Splendid, Ernie, and now it’s time for our tea.’ And before I could react she rang a gong and in about five seconds some guy, dressed in funny-looking knickers and a fluffed-up accordion collar about the width of a peach basket, strode up, bowed, and set down a big tray with tea cups, some kind of biscuits, and some jelly that Lizzie called marmalade.

“I’ll tell you, Moose, that goofy-looking guy waited on us as if we were a king and queen or something. Believe me, I was very hungry after that balloon ride. The guy had to make three or four trips with more biscuits and jelly. Lizzie was such a dainty eater—with her little finger stuck out like some kind of royalty or something. She watched me gobble away and said, ‘My, Ernie, but you have a stout appetite.’ As I gorged she told me that she had had a very important father—one who changed the nature of religion in her country—and that she, too, was very important.

“Now, you know what I think of people who talk like that, so I just nodded to humor her. But then she explained that the island was her outlet and that we could not talk about anything serious today but just have fun. Then she said, ‘Come on, Ernie; let’s take a ride,’ and she led me into a little cove where a sailboat was moored and, Moose, before I tell you the weird thing that happened next, I need to take a walk.”

“All right, Unk; hurry back” I said, and as Uncle Ernest pulled himself up from the chair again, I spread out full-length on it and gazed up into our ancient maple. In one of the dead branches about half-way up I watched a woodpecker with black and white ladder stripes across his back break the silence with his sharp “rat-a-tat-tat.” He kept at it for a while and then I must have scared him because he launched himself and flew in a fast, straight line off in the direction of Bill Herman’s house.

You remember Bill don’t you, Nina? He was the old, one-eyed man who used to take me for rides on his farm wagon. Well, years later, when I grew up and had kids of my own, Bill’s brother died, and Bill became so disoriented that he’d walk the roads all day and night with an unearthly stare in his eyes. He had lost his senses, Nina, and one day Sam Caldwell and I took him down and admitted him to the state hospital in Cambridge. We knew that he was in pain and would die soon if we didn’t.

A couple of weeks later I went down to see how he was making out. I’ll tell you, I almost didn’t recognize him. He was outside under a tree, sitting on the edge of his bench and leaning with his hands on the crook of his cane, which was between his spread knees. He had the air of authority and I’m sure that he told the doctors and nurses the right way to do things. “How they treating you, Bill?” I asked.

“Well, booooyeeee,” he drawled in that singular gruff voice, “pretty fair … but, you know, they’ll scrub the hide off you down here, and ever morning I have the dickens of a time because they keep pokin’ all around my mouth with a stick. The messin’ with me is a botheration, but I reckon I can stand it a might longer.” I didn’t know what the “stick” was, Nina, until I was driving home … and then it hit me. They were brushing his teeth.  [To be continued Tuesday, 8/07/2012]