I had two grandfathers that were as different as night and day. One a city slicker and the other a farmer and they both taught me things in their own way. I guess I will start with Grandpa Nalley (the farmer) who taught me about hard work and comedy timing. He had a very dry sense of humor and you had to pay close attention to catch when he was playing with you. He talked slow and very drawn out. For part of my life we lived in a trailer next to my Grandfather's place while my father was overseas in the military. During those couple of years all of us boys worked for Grandpa. Get up early in the morning go to the barn and shuck corn. After you had about six burlap sacks full you would throw them in the back of his truck and go up to his corn mill building. The building had a big pulley looking thing coming out the side that Grandpa would hook a tractor belt to engage his PTO and the milling machines in the old building would all start moving. We would make up about fifty bags of corn meal and then he would load them up in his truck and make his store rounds selling them. If you were lucky he might buy you a coke but you learned to not brag about it later cause Grandma would get on to him for doing so. She was tight; I think it had something to do with growing up in the depression. Grandpa said one time ain't nobody but the lord and the banker know how much money Mrs. Nalley has.
Remember me saying Grandpa Nalley taught me comedy timing? Well here is a story I like to tell about him because it is so much out of his normal character. Now you have to have the mental picture of them first. They are at this time both around 70 and sitting out on the front porch peeling apples. Grandpa and his pocket knife dressed in his overalls and Grandma in an old dress, long down to her ankles with her kitchen apron on. The chickens were just out the door eating some corn Grandpa had thrown to them. An old Rooster was out strutting in the yard and about every minute and half he would top a chicken (that is country for getting some, for you city folks) well after that rooster had topped about his forth hen grandma leaned over and said to Grandpa: I sure wish you could do that. Grandpa looked a little hurt at first and just looked down at his apple and kept peeling it. It was then I noticed he kept one eye cocked toward that rooster. Sure enough about 30 seconds later that rooster topped him another hen. Grandpa leaned back in his chair and said real slow…. I probably could if I had a fresh hen each time.
My other Grandfather we called Daddy Buck he was actually my step Grandpa as the real Grandpa died before I was born. Daddy Buck loved drinking beer and he loved telling stories. That sounds like someone I know. Us boys loved sitting around listening to him tell his stories and he had a very colorful life. He quit school in the 4th grade and went to work in the mill. That was the expected thing back then. Later he got into moon shinning and he did some vaudeville. Some would say he was a mean old guy but he just liked to teach boys life lessons like the time he bet me fifty cents I couldn't pee thru and electric fence. Now for you that have not had this experience sooner or later the stream decreases and the electricity increases. Then there was the time he told me that if you put butter on your hands you can catch bees and they can't sting you. Daddy Buck was also the author of the family ghost called Red Eye. Red Eye had one big eye in the middle of his head and he hung around graveyards during the day and would venture out at night to eat little children. Red Eye liked his food tender. Red Eye is still passed down in the family as soon as a kid gets old enough to listen.
Daddy Buck and Granny would come down to Mississippi most Christmas's (they lived in Jacksonville, Fl) and he always had a grocery sack full of fire cracker's for us boy's to shoot around the fire. We men folk would hang out at night, telling stories and shooting firecrackers while the women folk stayed in the house doing whatever they did. You could make good money hanging around Daddy Buck as he would pay you a nickel a beer to fetch it for him. My stories are nothing compared to the ones he could tell and I don't know how many times in my life I wished I had written them down as I can't remember them real clear today but remember they were great.
At the end of a night we had this man ritual where we would all circle the fire and piss it out. Then if needed we would bring the hose, but most the time Daddy Buck had enough beer in him to take care of it.
I remember one year someone took a picture of that ritual. Well back then they had film on rolls and it may take you most of the year to use the roll up and then you had to take it to the drug store to get the film developed. Mom had been to town and she come thru the front door mad as hell. Stuck that picture in my Dad's face and said who took this picture? You could have had me arrested; everybody's in the store has probably seen it! My Dad and us boys thought it was funny but Mom didn't see the humor in it at all. Well it is time to clean up the garage and work on the tractor a little. I had read a story by a young lady about her grandmother that inspired this story, hope ya'll like it. Chapter 2 will be about marrying my Granny as Genny is so much like her it is scary from time to time. She has her love of life and laugh down pat.
Art Nalley
Redneck Heritage Network
@2010
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