A glimpse into The Dream Year

The Visitor

There is a car moving slowly east past a car moving slowly west. And people walking hurriedly from the dark parking lot through circles cast down from yellow lights above. Fogged by the cool drizzle of a mid-November night, the street lights offer each solitary figure a dramatic anonymous walk-on as they make their way to the building across the way. A distant fading siren sound is drowned by the louder thrashing whir of a helicopter dropping carefully down onto the rooftop.

In the lobby, the conversations are hushed, yet anxious. People seem huddled in small worried circles. The hallway smells of linoleum wax laid down over an antiseptic wash. The door to the room makes a sharp metallic click each time it opens - crisp, like the cocking of a rifle in the stillness. Flowers on the window sill smell funereal, and the water stained cards beneath the vase spell out best wishes unread. The solitary breath in the air is sweet with medications that overpower even the flowers.

Behind the eyes that can't see out but only in, there is a certain kind of blackness, a blackness blacker than any black a conscious mind might describe. A panorama of nothingness wherein the mind can only whisper to itself. So Billy lies there and blabbers on to ears that cannot hear him. Not even the nurse, standing at his side calibrating the plastic narcotic drip could hear such murmurs at that great distance.

The doctor's report is delivered in a low spoken monotone into the telephone at the nurse's station.
"...is stable...no response to stimuli along any modality...comatose with sporadic autonomic reactions...." He speaks the data into the system one elbow down on the nurse's desk, massaging his forehead with a thumb and forefinger as though to coax out all possible observations just made. He pauses to look down the long hallway as the elevator bell sounds. It was Billy's girlfriend, Sandy. He puts down the phone and turns with a soft smile as she approaches.

Billy Wakes Up To Nothing

"I don't know if this is good or not. I am awake! But, to what? My tongue seems buried in a tar pit. Tar entombs my ears as well, and my sinuses. I have a hazy image of Sandy. Is it her, or just some picture I am holding?
"Sandy?!" Am I dead? I don't think so. There is some kind of steady drumming. There is some humming buzz running through me. It is as though my body is going on without me. Talking to itself. I think I am in some kind of trouble. If I am wondering anything then surely I'm not dead. But then, where are my hands? This is pretty fucking weird. Why am I never hungry? I don't even want a beer. I remember Sandy's fingernails digging into my stomach. But, I can't remember why."

Far away where he cannot see or hear her, Sandy sits close to Billy's bedside and doodles in her sketch book. It had been three months now since it happened.

Back To Dawson.....

NELLY'S BIG DAY

When I got back from th' bus station I parkt th' car and walkt over t' Missus Akkerson's house. We sat aroun' th' kitchen table an' I helt Bluebird on my lap as I tol' them about meetin' my ma an' how she come t' killin' my daddy an' went t' jail all these years.
"I never likt Bobby John," Missus Akkerson said. "But when he come throuh town he swept Jolie off her feet. I tolt 'er he weren't good fer nothin', but she jus' said I was jealous. I guess she fount out th' hard way. I don' rightly wish anybody t' git shot in th' head, but I reckon if anybody mighta deservt it, it woulda been Bobby John. I'm sorry t' say such a thing, Daw, bein' he was yer daddy, but I swear he was born bad." I nodded.
"Somehow, it don' seem t' hurt me much, 'cause I believe what Jolene tolt me about 'im. I do wonner what 'is last name was thouh, an' where he hailed from." Nelly's mama said she never knew Bobby John's las' name but there was prob'ly some way t' find out.

I was still talkin' about th' experience when me an' Nelly turnt in that night with Bluebird squirmin' between th' two of us. Nelly was right sweet t' jus' lie there an' lissen, an' run 'er fingers throuh my hair.

Nelly gradiated with honors. Not only was she th' bes' speler, but she was voted mos' likely t' succeed at somethin'. An' they askt her t' say somethin' t' her classmates. There was a hunert and fifteen of 'em that year. Twict as many as when I gradiated. Mos'ly it was on account of all the Round Town kids bein' added in t' th' school. It was kinda strange 'cause I use' t' know ever' kid in th' school, and now they lookt like a lot of strangers.

Nelly stood up in fron' of ever'body, an I could tell she was a bit scart.
"I jus' wanna say this is one of my happies' times in my life. An' I wanna espeshuly thank Missus Shire who kep' me keep agoin' when I jus' wanted t' give up." Ever'body clappt when she said that.
"An' I guess ever'body knows me an' Daw had us a baby along th' way. We didn' ezackly mean fer that t' be th' case, but I wouldn' ever wish t' change the fact at this point. But I wanna say, it weren' easy. It was hard, real hard. So, if'n ye fin' yer self thinkin' you wanna have you a baby too, ye' might wanna think that one over another time or two. Ye' can't hardly git any sleep at night. Ye can't jus' decide ye wanna jus' play aroun' all affernoon. Ever'thing, an' I mean ever'thing changes. An' ye can't wish it away, an' ye can't run away. I love my liddle baby an' wouldn' change a thing, but if yer thinkin' its jus' a barrel of fun, it ain't. I ain't gonna preach at ye. Yer th' same as me. But, I am tellin' ye, ye better think twict. Thank you, an' I'm gonna miss you all."

I was right proud of Nelly that day, an' it made me think a lot about all th' times when I was off t' th' island tryin' t' figure out a life, an' all those times Nelly was there at home lookin' after Bluebird, an' tryin' t' git her homework done. An' ever'thing she said t' all them kids was th' truth. As if that weren't enuf fer one day, I set Bluebird down on th' grass t' hug Nelly, an she pullt 'erself up by my pant leg, an' took off walkin' throuh th' crowd teeterin' all over amidst a world of giant people. Bluebird had a gradiation of 'er own.

GRAVIDY

One thing I did learn about in school is this invisibl' force callt gravidy. Gravidy is this thing that keeps ever'thing down on th' ground instead of flyin' off inta th' air. A coupla years back, th Russians sent a big ball up inta space an' it didn' come back down. They callt it Spudnik, I guess 'cause it lookt like a 'tater. Anyways it jus' stayt up there floatin' aroun' fer a coupla years, but finally th' fingers of gravidy found it, an' pullt it back down.

An' it ocurrt t' me that places like Shrewsbury or any place ye been mos' yer life has a kind of gravidy of its own. An' ever'time I drove off t' th' island, I could somehow feel th' tug of Shrewsbury on me, wantin' t' pull me back. Don' know how many times I went back an' forth, an it seemt ever'time I turnt aroun' an' come back I made real good time 'cause of th' gravidy pullin' me back. Maybe even people got some kinda gravidy of their own. People get stuck on each other 'cause of that. Th' way I'm stuck on Nelly, an' she's stuck on me. An' even though my own mama lef' me all these years, an' even though I don't rightly know ezackly who she is, there seemt some kinda gravidy there when I firs' saw her. I don' know how t' describe it, but I know somehow I felt it.

BLUEBIRD'S BES' PRESENT

Robin Bluebell was about t' turn one year olt, an' me an' Nelly decided we should have that day in Shrewsbury, even thouh we was both feelin' ready t' try t' make th' move t' th' island. An' it even felt more important now on accoun' of Jolene. I think it would be helpful t' her t' know she had a gran'baby in 'er life, so I was hopin' she'd be comin' fer Bluebird's birthday.

Jolene came that day. An' she came wearin' a wig that lookt outa a fashi'n magazene.
It kinda wrappt aroun' 'er neck in a smooth straight line, an' it had sev'rel colers of hair in it. She whispert t' me that she jus' didn' wanna come lookin' like she'd jus' been in jail fer fifteen years. I found it hard t' not keep starin' at 'er. Charlie an' Jolene hugged an' went on about how they knowed each other all these years. Uncle Blaine was bein' right gentlemanly offerin 'er his seat on th' sofa. An, Nelly pullt me over an' whispert that she thouht my mama was purty, an also tolt me that Bluebird musta got her liddle roun' chin from my ma. But best of all, an' mos' memerable, was Robin Bluebell sittin' on Jolene's lap an' they was playin' some han' clappin' game, an' then Jolene sorta sobbed a bit an' said,
"Never in my life....never in my life..." An I knew then an' there that gravidy had it's arms aroun' all of us. Jolene spent th' night with us. We made her a pallet on th' couch. I was happy that she was there that night even thouh she seemt still such a mystery t' me.

THE MORNIN' AFTER

When Bluebird fidgit'd an' kickt me an' Nelly outa bed like she always does in th' mornin', I could smell coffee perkin' an' Jolene was already up an' smokin' a cigarette out on th' front porch. She didn' have her wig on, so her short hair was all spiky an' stickin' out here an' there. She was sittin' on th' swing, barefooted an' wearin' a long white wrinklt cotton slip. She lookt skinny in th' shoulders, almos' bony. She stretcht 'er arms out an' yawned. I pushed th' screen door a bit an' poked my head out.
"G' mornin'!"
"Y' know," she said, "There was so many times sittin' in my cell I would imagine walkin' down this road an' my mama walkin' me t' school." She stood an' came towart me. "Bet th' coffee's ready 'bout now," she said.
We all sat aroun' th' kitchen table a good while. Jolene helt Bluebird on her lap, an' she an' Nelly took to talkin' about th' baby an' how sharp she was fer jus' bein' in the worl' liddle more th'n a year. Finally Jolene handed th' baby t' me.
"I reckon I oughta run down t' mama's. Do ye think she's doin' alright, Dawson?" That was th' firs' time she didn' call me Jeremy. I didn' even think about it at the time, but later lookin' back it seemt it meant somethin' t' me.
"Well, I reckon granny's doin' purty good. She took it purty hard when gran'daddy an' Aunt Arnelle died an' on th' same day. Uncle Blaine an' Charlie look affer her a lot," I replyt. Jolene was lookin' down at th' floor like she was deep in some kinda thouht, but noddin' her head like she was hearin' me.

Blaine drove Jolene t' the bus station that day an me an' Nelly tol' her we wanted her t' come an' see us when we get moved over t' th' island. Nelly seemt t' see some emptiness in me that affernoon an' she hugged me, an whispert,
"Its a lot, ain't it Daw?" I nodded.

ME AN' MY BABY, AN' TH' DEEP BLUE SEA

It took nigh onta two weeks fer me an' Nelly t' sort out stuff, an box stuff up, an' git ready t' move t' th' island. We soon realizt we was gonna have t' make two trips. We'd go t' th boathouse fer about a week an' get organized, then we'd come back an' git th' rest of our stuff. So, when we pullt out of Shrewsbury it weren't too hard sayin' goodbye since we'd be comin' back in a few days. I set up an orange crate on th' seat of th' truck between me an' Nelly fer Bluebird t' sit on an' that workt purty good e'cept Bluebird kept wantin' t' crawl onta her mama's lap an' poke 'er head out th' winder. Mos'ly thouh, we was drivin' throuh th' night, an' Bluebird was sleepin' in Nelly's arms. I realizt I was prob'ly gonna need t' get me a reg'lar car with a back seat purty soon.

IN THE BEGINNING

We pullt onta th' island jus' affer dawn, an'I rememb'r th' firs' thing we did when we got t' th' boathouse was t' jus' crumble onta th' mattress on th' floor and lay there.
"We're here, ain't we, Daw,?" Nelly askt, lookin' over at me. Bluebird was crawlin' aroun' on top of us.
"Uh huh," I said.
"An' ever' thing's gonna be ok, ain't it Daw?"
"Uh huh," I said again. Bluebird crawlt up on her mama an' took her face inta her tiny han's, an' lookt right inta her eyes.
"I'm hungwy, mama!" Nelly laught an' jumpt up. She open'd th' box granny an' Missus Akkerson had fixt fer us with sandwishes an' such. Then we all jus' sat aroun' on th' mattress eatin' bananas an' lookin' around. Somehow it seemt th' whole world was startin' over.

The nex' few days seemt fill'd with haulin' stuff inta th' boathouse, an' movin' stuff aroun'. Nelly hung th' curtains she'd made, we fixt up a liddle corner by a winder t' be Bluebird's corner with her bed, an' her toys, an' we fixt th' kitchen corner up t' Nelly's likin'. Th' place was startin' t' look purty crowded already. Rufus came by one day an' helpt me build a platform about four feet up over Bluebird's corner, an' we tosst me an' Nelly's mattress up there.

Saturday mornin' me an' Rufus went over th' Aunt Chovy. He'd already been scrapin' off loose paint an' blue an' green peels an' chips of it was all about. He had a good part of th' motor broke down too. Bluebird went a walkin' an' crawlin' all aroun' on th' boat an' in no time was the dirtiest chil' I ever saw. She had her firs' bath that affernoon in th' kitchen sink.

Sunday we spent on th' beach. We laught a lot at Bluebird splashin' about in th' surf an' shriekin' as th' waves would come rollin' in like they was about t' git her. Monday mornin' we headed back t' Shrewsbury.

TH' NEVER ENDIN' GOODBYE

When we got back t' Shrewsbury, I foun' Jolene sittin' at granny's table in th' kitchen talkin' to granny. Ever'body stood aroun' huggin' ever'body. Bluebird run aroun' from one grown-up t' another an' wasn' hurtin fer attenchin by a long shot. Uncle Blaine an' Charlie come by fer lunch, an' it seemt somehow like a Sunday affernoon. When we finally headed over t' Uncle Blaine's ol' place fer th' night, it was in the big mess we left it in. We put off any cleanin' and packin' of more stuff 'til th' mornin' an' turnt in.

I laid there holdin' Nell an' tolt her how Uncle Blaine had talkt t' me out in granny's yard about th' idea of turnin' his place over t' his sister, Jolene.
"He an' yer mama has decided t' fix her place up better an' they'd live there, an' he wanted Jolene t' come back t' Shrewsbury an' git her life started over," I said. Nelly thouht it was a good idea an' she said it would prob'ly make my granny happy too.
"An' then," she added, "whenever we came t' visit, Bluebird would have three grannys. Charlie, Jolene, an' granny." I jus' nodded but I didn' have th' words t' say about how happy I was t' think my mama had come home or about th' idea that maybe one day we might acshuly come t' know each other like nothin' ever happent.

Once we got th' last of our things packt inta th' truck, an' Uncle Blaine's place swept out nice an' neat, we walkt over t' granny's t' say goodbye again. It was harder this time, even thouh we promis't we'd come back one week in th' fall. Ever'body seemt happy an' a bit teary eyed at th' same time. It turnt inta a reg'lar parade with ever'body walkin' back with us t' th' truck. Then ever'body was huggin' ever'body agin. Uncle Blaine handed me an envelope an' tolt me t' read it later. Jolene kisst me on th' cheek an' then wipt it off with a smile, an' steppt back as we climbt inta th' truck. I heard granny call as I pullt away,
"Ya'll come back ye hear?" I pickt up speed as we rounded th' bend in the road an' I coul' feel th' gravidy of all my growin' up pullin' at me, an then lettin' go.

TH' TUNNEL OF LOVE

The drive into th' night settled down inta white lines an' stripes, an' bends in th' road, an' ever' now an' then, a car whizzin' by goin' th' other way. I pickt up a radio channel comin' from New Orleans. Nelly seemt sound asleep nex' t' me with Bluebird's head on her lap. Elvis come on th' radio.
"Since my baby lef' me, I foun' a new place t' dwell,
it's down at th' end of lonely street at the..." Nelly sat up straight all of a sudden, an' lookt over at me.
"Daw," she said. "Promise you'll never leave me."
I laught. "I ain't never gonna leave you, darlin'."
"You promise?" she askt.
"Yes. I promise."
"On yer granny's bible?"
"Yes, on my granny's bible, an' on yer granny's bible too."
Nelly lookt out th' winder. "I never knew my granny. But I think she was an atheist." She lookt down at Bluebird, an' run her fingers throuh Bluebird's hair. "I love you, Daw," she said, leanin' her head agins' th' pillow by th' door. She closed her eyes an' then started cryin'.
"I ain't never gonna leave ye' Nelly," I said quietly.
"I know," she sobbed, "I jus' miss my mama."
I thouht about my mother. It was a lot of mixed up thouhts. How me an' Axel got lef' there at th' end of lonely street. How she come back. How here I was now leavin' her. How it all was sorta grabbin' me an' shakin' me aroun'.
"I miss my mama too," I said t' Nelly, but I think she was asleep by then.

.....DAWSON, PART III

ROBIN BLUEBELL SITTIN' BY TH' WISHIN' WELL

Well, I'd be lyin' if I said th' rest of th' summer was a piece o' cake after Robin Bluebell came inta th' world. She was a joy beyon' compare, that's fer sure. An' it was amazin' to hold 'er on my lap, an look at 'er, an' t' think that if me an' Nelly hadn' been so in love, there wouldn' be no Robin Bluebell in th' world.

It was tirin' nevertheless. A liddle baby needs a lot of payin' attenchun to. I sometimes wondert what it was I used t' do with all my time afore Robin Bluebell come along. It was a nice thing t' be stayin' at Uncle Blaine's place. It was close t' granny's, an' close t' Missus Akkerson's house too. An' jus' about ever' day one of our kin was droppin' in. An' if granny an' Missus Akkerson came over t' gether, they could sit in th' front room playin' 'pass th' baby' all affernoon! Granny likt t' hold Robin Bluebell on her lap an' sing songs. She made one up that sorta went,
"Robin Bluebell sittin' by th' wishin' well,
Won't ye come an' sit a spell with me...."
Missus Akkerson likt t' play on th' floor with Robin Bluebell. She'd put Robin on her tummy an' say,
"Come here my yeller-eyed girl! Come to maw-maw!" O' course, Robin Bluebell hadn' yet got th' hang of crawlin', so her liddle arms an' legs would be wavin' all aroun' like she was swimmin'.

LONESOME HIGHWAY

It had been a month or more since I made th' run to Ossabaw. Nelly said she an' Robin Bluebell could go stay at her mama's if'n I wanted to try. I sorta felt mixt up about th' whole thing. I was itchin' t' work on th' boathouse, an spen' some time on th' water with Rufus, but at th' same time I was wishin' I could be with Nelly an' Robin Bluebell. O' course I had always felt that way leavin' Nelly when I went out on runs, but she was olt enough t' unnerstan' what I was tryin' t' do. But liddle Robin Bluebell won' have no idea where I diasppeart to. An' I was even sorta scart she might not remember me when I come back.

So, it was a bit differ'nt this time pullin' outa Shrewsbury. More lonesome. I had loaded all the plumbin' pipe an' fixtures I'd been savin' inta th' back o' th' truck. So, I jus' drove on inta th' night thinkin' about th' nature of plumbin' as it applyt t' th' boathouse. Then I sorta daydreamt I was bobbin' aroun' on th' sea in th' Aunt Chovy, an' Nelly an' Robin Bluebell was on th' shore wavin' at me. Then I thought about how I need t' git a coupla cigars fer when I fin' Rufus an' tell 'im I'm a daddy. Then I took t' hummin' Granny's song.
"Robin Bluebell sittin' by th' wishin' well,
"Won't ye come an' sit a spell with me...."
Then I took t' wonderin' about my mama again. Nothin' new to think about in that regard. Jus' the same ol' questions that come t' mind now an' then. Who was she? Is she still even in this ol' world? Why didn' she never come back? It seemt my mind, like my truck, was in high gear the whole night drivin' along. Takin' bends an' bumps along th' way, barrelin' inta th' future an' hopin' fer th' best.

Close t' bein' there, I drove th' last lick of highway jus' as dawn was breakin' an' t' either side of me was endless Savannah grass swayin', an' a low hangin' fog seemt t' have wispy fingers danglin' down onta those tall blades of pale yeller grass. It was very dreamy an' I felt like I'd been dreamin' all night long.

Jus' off th' wharf where the ferry pulls in, there was a diner lit up, an' I could see a coupla fellers in there. My stomach was actin' purty hungry, so I pullt th' truck up t' it. Five or six cars was already creepin' onta th' ferry t' make the return run. Folks that workt in Savannah, I suppose. The air was misty an' give me a chill, but it felt good t' breathe it. Sorta like that sailin' s'lution Curly was talkin' about. Th' diner was nice an' warm inside, an' there was th' smell of bacon fryin.

When I climbt back inta th' truck with a full belly, an' a brain full of coffee, the sun was up above th' water an' the sea had turnt t' molten silver. I drove on out t' th' boathouse an' unloaded my plumbin' pipes. There was a bunch o' sticks in th' ground out back, an' string runnin' from one t' th' other. I weren't sure what t' make of that. Then I saw the pink paper taped t' th' door. It was a permit fer a septic system an' access t' th' water main. Rufus had done give me a leg up. I went in, an' said hi t' th' Aunt Chovy then went upstairs an' set up th' baby bed I'd bought awhile back. It made me smile t' look at it.

GITTIN' MY SEA LEGS BACK

I foun' a coupla cigars at th' newstand down by th' wharf. One of th' newspapers there, Th' Savannah Sentinel, said Buddy Holly was dead. Big John what run th' stand tol' me it was a plane crash up north somewheres. I remembert on th' radio as I was drivin' through th' night hearin' "Peggy Sue", an' they was sayin' somethin about Buddy Holly, but th' static was so bad I couldn' make it out. I wonnert if Nelly had heard about it yet. We both likt that song.

I spotted Rufus down along side his boat talkin' t' a coupla other fellas. I wen' back t' the newstand an' got a coupla more cigars. Rufus saw me comin' an' afore I even got to 'im, I shouted,
"I'm a daddy!" They all took t' slappin' me on th' back an' shakin' my hand, an' I passed out my cigars. Rufus tuckt his inta his coat pocket.
"We'll jus' save this fer this affernnoon, 'cause we need t' have us a celebration down at Gypsy's place." Th' other fellas agreed, an' I made a note in my head t' not git so drunk as last time.

We idled outa th' harbor aboard th' Pelikin's Folly, an' I tol' Rufus about how me an' Nelly went an' got marriet, an' then had us a baby a week later. Rufus laught.
"Yer a salty dawg, that's what you are."

In a way, goin' out t' sea agin with Rufus was like some kinda shot in th' arm. Me an' th' Cap'n fell inta a rhythem droppin' th' nets, an' circlin' around on th' water. He hollert at me, as we began reelin' in a nice size ketch.
"It's good t' have ye back, mate!"

We turnt our ketch over t' th' Cap'n's shore hands, an' headed down t' Gypsy's. Rufus an' I clinkt our beers, an' in awhile them other fellas showt up. They'd been trawlin' out beyon' Danger point in their boat, th' 'Ham An' Aigs'. They said they got a big mess o' tuna. Soon there was a cloud of cigar smoke hangin' over our table an th' boys was ribbin' me about my new bride.
"Come on, Daw. We want th' juicy details." I jus' laught an' shook my head. Rufus said,
"I'll tell ye boys, I done seen her. She's a gol-durn mermaid, that's what she is. She's got eyes made outa gold, an' hair as black as a moonless night, ain't that right, mate?" I nodded an' shrugged, tryin' t' low-key th' Cap'n's drunken ackerlaids. I jus' ain't one t' brag.

Them boys got me good an' drunk that night despite my bes' intenchins. In fact, I jus' left my truck where it was, an' walkt a crooked line on over t' the Three Liddle Pigs motel. I left out fer Shrewsbury mid-mornin' th' nex' day. Aside from a splittin' headache, an' a churnin' stomach, I was feelin' purty good. I was headin' home.

On th' radio I heard more details about Buddy Holly. Sev'rel others died too, in some snow field up in Indiana. It was a bit scary thinkin' about how people kin jus' be dead all of a sudden. I turnt my mind t' thinkin' about Nelly an' Robin Bluebell. It seemt t' me life requirt a certain recklessness, but a certain price can come with it. From there on out, I jus' kept my mind on th' road.

TH' LONG RUNNIN' BLUR

When I finally got th' fish an' shrimp unloaded over in Roun'town, it was dark again. When I pullt up t' Uncle Blaine's place there stood Nelly an' Robin Bluebell standin' 'neath th' porch light. I was so happy I was laughin' as I took our liddle baby outa Nelly's arms. She lookt right cute with dryed milk in th' corners of her liddle mouth. We sat in th' front room fer awhile, an' I helt th' baby an tol' Nelly about my trip t' th' island, an' how Rufus done got th' septic plan all figgered out. Nelly took t' brushin' the tangles outa her hair, an' she lookt a bit tired. We slept that night with Robin Bluebell between us. I kept wakin' up fer fear I'd roll aroun' an squish th' liddle squirt.

Lookin' back now, that whole firs' year bein' marriet t' Nelly, an' bein' a daddy, seems like one long runnin' blur. Nelly got her cute liddle figger back an' was gittin' ready t' go back t' school an' finish up. I was makin' runs t' th' island ever' other week. With th' help of one of th' Cap'n's friends, we got th' boathouse plumb'd. His friend, namt Blackjack had a backhoe an' dug out th' hole fer th' tank. I was surprist t' find out they was makin' a drop-in tank now made of plastic. No more haulin' rocks an' mixin' up concrete. Ye just droppt th' tank in th' hole an' took t' runnin' pipe. Seemt like more an' more stuff was bein' made of plastic. Even milk bottles was bein' made of plastic. An' Robin Bluebell had a plastic baby bottle that seemt easier fer her to hold than them ol' heavy glass ones.

Somewhere along th' line, me an' Nelly both notict somethin' peculiar about Uncle Blaine. He was goin' over t' Nelly's mama's house quite often. He was always makin' some excuse to go over there. Missus Akkerson an' Blaine acted like it was jus' normal, but me an' Nelly had an idea there was somethin' goin' on between them two. It reminded me of how I used t' make up reasons t' go over to Missus Akkerson's so as t' see Nelly again. Nelly said she was gonna talk t' her mama an' find out what was goin' on, an' I tol' her I would try t' pry somethin' outa Uncle Blaine. T' make a long story short, when Thanksgivin' came aroun', neither me nor Nelly was surprist when Uncle Blaine an' 'Charlie' announct they was gettin' marriet. T' make this story even shorter, granny marriet them off on Christmas day in front of th' Christmas tree. By then, liddle Robin Bluebell was crawlin' all about on th' floor, an' she took t' likin' suckin' on th' pink nose of a stufft bunny Santa brung her. She was also babblin' an' warblin' a lot, an' I took t' callin' her 'Bluebird'.
"Blue bird sittin' by th' wishin' well,
Won't ye come an' sing a song t' me....."

By th' time spring rollt aroun', Nelly was close t' gradiatin'. Missus Shire let Nelly nurse Bluebird in her office onct or twice a day. Me or Nelly's mama one, would carry Bluebird over there, an' we usually brouht Nelly a snack too. As it turnt out, Nelly was excust from classes a month early on account of she had done met all th' requirements. So, she was home then until th' big gradiatin' day ceremony. I decided it was time t' make another quick run t' th' island.

MY NEAR DEATH EXPERIANCE

Me an' Cap'n Rufus had gone out beyon' Danger Point that day 'cause of all th' talk of how th' tuna was runnin'. We got us a purty big haul on th' firs' drop. But, th' sea was gettin' choppy so we turnt th' Folly about. The nex' things that began t' happen, happent so fast it's hard t' describe. Bes' I can recall, we suddenly took a rogue wave over th' tail on the starboard side. It come plum' all th' way over us knockin' me against the port side rail, an' spinnin' th' boat a full ninety d'grees jus' in time t' take another wave crashin' down on th' bow of the Folly. It was like Sugar Joe's one-two punch. I grabbt a line an' tied myself off an' turnt t' holler at Rufus. About that moment, here come another wave crashin' down atop th' cabin. I could see the Cap'n hangin' on t' th' wheel with one han, an' reaching fer a rope with th' other. I saw his knees buckle an' then he was gone. One more wave hit, an' I heard the sound of boards breakin' like bones. We had been tosst against a rocky outcroppin' of Danger Point. I went hand over hand along th' rail lookin fer some sign of Rufus in th' swirlin' water that was breakin' on th' rocks. I finally saw him bobbin' about clingin' to a coupla planks that broke off th' Pelikin. The boat was tilted off t' one side on the rocks, an' th' motor had quit upon th' firs' hit. I crawlt inta the cabin lookin' fer th' life preserver, an' grabbt ahold of the lever fer th' trawlin' arm, an' it was workin'. I droppt th' arm down inta th' water as fas' as I could an' I could see Rufus grabbin' fer the nettin' that was fallin' down all arount 'im. I pusht up on th' lever, but th' arm wouldn' raise. Meanwhile th' crashin' waves was jerkin' th' boat all aroun' on th' rock makin' grindin', splinterin soun's. The Cap'n held onta th' nets an' I tosst him a line. It took me sev'rel trys but I eventu'ly got it t' him. He tied hisself off an began t' try t' climb th' net while I was pullin' as hard as I could. I finally got where I could reach down an grab holt of th' Cap'n's coat sleeve. I could see then he was bleedin' down one side of his head. He manag'd t' hike one foot up over th' rail, an' then I pullt him on over an' down t' th' deck. He took t' coughin' an' spittin', an then said in a raspy watery voice,
"I 'bout swallered th' anchor that time..." After wrappin' his head with some gauze from th' first aid kit, an gittin' him some fresh water, we decided we best try t' climb up on th' point afore th' Folly come apart. We made it t' a shelf about twelve or so feet up, an' there we sat watchin' th' waves feedin' on th' Folly an' carryin' it off a board at a time. My mind was racin' with th' realazashin that me an' th' cap'n had jus' escaped th' fate that had befallen so many afore us. It was an hour or more afore a team of Coast Guard fellas come aclimbin' over th' rock above us an' tosst us a rope an' sling.

Dawn of the Rogue Pulsations

I leaned back at my desk and caressed my secretary's leg as she handed me the mail.
"Read this one to me, mon cherie," I said, handing one back to her. She sat down on the chair next to me and crossed her legs.
"To whom it must concern," she said, in her soft and sultry voice. "Pay close attention to what I say.
It happened about two years ago when during an assignment, the Hubble Space Telescope was oriented to the Constellation Fornax in order to capture ultra deep field observations. To capture images, in other words, at a depth or distance out into space that to date, had never been probed. Images of outermost regions never before seen by man. The images were astounding. But, even more astounding, an occurrence that went unnoticed until the announcement that came only last week from NASA that the Hubble had somehow become infected. That was the word they used. Infected."
"Shall I go on, sir?" my secretary asked.
"Yes," I replied. "I find it somehow endearing."
"A reporter asked,
"What does that mean?" The NASA spokesman shuffled his papers and said,
"An infection is basically an invasion and multiplication of microorganisms." He then stepped away from the mike and would take no further questions. I recalled several years back when I was working for NASA, having a conversation with a colleague at a bar. I remembered he said quite drunkenly,
"What if, out there, there was a non-physical intelligent civilization that existed only as some kind of radioactive pulse? And they notice the pulses we are sending out into the universe, and hijack them and ride them back to earth?"
"You tell me," I replied, being one Russian vodka behind him.
"So, they make it into our receivers," he said," "The satellites, skylab, the Hubble. From there, they are home free and beaming on down to earth."

The detective stuck his toothpick behind his ear.
"So, that's your statement?"
"Yes," I replied. "Don't you see? They are in our tvs now. Our radios. Our cars. Our computers. Our cell phones. They are listening to us all the time. They are tapping our brains. They are putting GPS devices in our shoes. They know our every move. They are controlling us."
"Sargeant," the detective said over his shoulder, "Lock him up."
So, I write to you from my cell now, and I will tie it onto the leg of a rat. Maybe it will find you."
"Its signed, 'Sincerely yours, John Whelby'," my secretary said. I couldn't help but laugh, of course.
"Will there be anything else, Mr. Fornax?" she said, dropping the letter down to her lap.
"Yes, I'd like to check your pulse now."
"I'd like to check your pulse too, Mr. Fornax." Our pulsing became one self-exciting circuit on the couch by the window until at last we screamed at the same time,
"Stupid earthlings!"

The End of Part II

TH' MARRYIN' KIND

I was sittin at granny's table this one mornin' sippin' on a cup of coffee, an' granny pusht some biscuits jus' outa th' oven in front of me. She'd also made up a bowl of red-eye gravy to drip over th' biscuits.
"Granny," I said. "I wish ye'd teach my Nelly how to make this here gravy."
Granny sat down with her cup of coffee.
"Well, I wouldn' be surprised but what Nelly might already have a handle on that. Her mama's a real good cook, y' know." I nodded, as I dug into my breakfast. "Daw, I'm unner th' assumptshun you an' Nelly are of the marryin' kind ain't ye?"
"Yes, ma'am. That's somethin' we gotta git doin' soon, in fact."
"Well, sooner th' better, Daw. Ye' know that baby could come along any ol' day now. Ye don' want yer baby t' be born a liddle bastard chil'."
"Gosh, granny. I never even lookt at it like that," I said, settin' down my fork.
"Well, you know how folks take t' talkin' aroun' these parts. Fer all they know yer jus' gonna let Nelly bear this chil' alone. That's th' way their minds git t' workin when they can't thinka nothin' else t' talk about." She got up an' she shuffled over t' th' pantry an' come back with a jar o' honey. "Make yerself a honey biscuit," she said handin' me th' jar.
"I love honey, it's th' coler of Nelly's eyes," I said. Granny chucklt. I leaned back in my chair, eatin' my honey biscuit.
"Lesseee...t'day's Tuesday. What about Sunday, granny? Sunday affernoon. Reckon that would be a good day fer marryin'?" Granny sipped on 'er coffee an' nodded.
"Sure. I could marry ye myself if'n ye like."
"Really, granny? Ye know how t' marry folks?"
"Well, o'course. In fac' you an' Nelly might not know, but I was th' one what married Missus Akkerson t' her husban', may he rest in peace."
"You marriet Nelly's mama an' daddy?!" She nodded and smilt.
"Well, somebody's gotta do it. O' course afore I could marry ye, ye'll have t' go down t' the county seat, an' fill out a marryin' form fer th' judge t' sign, an' ye'll probably have to get a health check-up too. The way it works Daw, is that t' be marriet by law ye gotta have a judge sign yer certifikit. But, as far as gettin' marriet afore God, well, mos' anybody kin do that."
"I reckon I need t' go talk t' Nelly an' her mama about all this," I said.
"Sounds like a reasonabl' startin' place t' me," granny smilt.

TH' AMBUSH

Well, I wen' over t' Nelly's house an' tol' her I was goin' t' the county seat t' git th' marryin' papers so we kin git marriet come Sunday. Nelly smilt at first but then put on a poutin' frown.
"Dawson Moorhead, you ain't even askt me t' marry ye' yet! Now you jus' go back out on th' porch, an' come back in an' do this right!" Women's got their ways about things, that's one thing that I was figgerin' out one day at a time. I went an' pickt a daisy from out by th' mailbox, an' then knockt on th' front door. I was surprist when Missus Akkerson opent it up.
"Oh, Hi, Misus Akkerson is Nelly in?" She sorta smilt at me, an' said,
"Come on in, Dawson." Then she hollert t' th' back o' th' house. "Nelly, Catfish is here!"
"Oh, hi, Daw!" Nelly said, like I hadn' jus' been there a minute ago. I steppt up t' her an' got down on one knee, an' said,
"Miss Annalee Ann, would you do me th' kindness of marryin' a poor boy such as me come Sunday?" She put her hands to her face an' took t' gigglin'. I was tiltin' my head back t' see over her big roun' belly. She took th' daisy I was holdin' out, an' went t' pluckin' off th' petals one by one.
"Well, let's see now. He loves me...he loves me not...he loves me...he loves me not.." Meanwhile, she was droppin' th' petals down on my head an' face. "..He loves me...he loves me not...he loves me!" she said, at last. She reacht down an' took my hand, so I stood up. "So is that a 'yes', Nelly?"
"Well, I reckon yer han'some enuf, but ye'll have to ask my mama's approval seein' as how I'm still such a chil'." I turnt to Missus Akkerson, but she weren't there.
"She's in the front room, Daw," Nelly said, pointin' t' the doorway. I walkt inta th' front room. Missus Akkerson was sittin' in her chair readin' th' newspaper. "Missus Akkerson," I said, gittin' down on one knee again. She laid her paper down on her lap an' said,
"Dawson Moorhead, what are you doin' down there?" I stood back up.
"Missus Akkerson, could I be so bolt as t' ask fer yer daughter's hand in holey matramony?" I could hear Nelly in th' doorway behin' me trying to keep from gigglin'. Missus Akkerson sorta lookt me up an' down.
"Well, I don' know. Yer a right scrawny lad t' my eye. How might I know ye'd take good care of my Nelly?"
"Well," I stammert, "I gradiated from school, an' my teacher tol' me I was quite enterprizin', an...."
"Oh, Daw!" Missus Akkerson said gettin up on her feet an' huggin me. "O' course ye can marry Nelly!" Nelly come over laughin'.
"We was jus' havin' fun, Daw. Yer granny tolt us ye was comin' by t' ask."
"So, ye will marry me, right?" I said.
"Yes, o'course I will. But ask me again like last time so mama can see."
So, I droppt t' my knee again, an' Nelly handed me the daisy with no petals on it.
"Miss Annalee Ann, will you..." Nelly bent down an' yankt on my head. "Yes, Dawson. I will! Now git up here an' give me a kiss." So I kisst Nelly with Missus Akkerson standin' right there watchin'. That had t' be one o' th' mos' embarassin' moments of my life. An' fer some years after at family gatherin's I had t' hear th' retellin' of this story about me askin' Nelly t' marry me.

MY SEKERT PROJECT

I went back t' granny's an' saw Uncle blaine out by th' barn tinkerin' with th' tiller motor. I tol him th' whole story about how Nelly an' her ma had put me through th' wringer. I was thinkin' he'd be consolin', but he just laught his butt off, an teast me even more.
"That's a good one, Daw! I gotta remember that one!" An' he did. He brought it up all th' time. An' after awhile, I took t' bein' a good sport, an' actually took t' re-enactin' th' scene myself.
"So, yeh. I gits down on my knee, jus' like in th' movies, with my hair all slickt back an' ever'thing, an I sez t' Nelly...."

But, I gotta tell ye', I don' know what I'd a done without Uncle Blaine. He tol' me I needed t' git Nelly a ring. I hadn' even thouht o' that.
"Hell, jus' make 'er a ring Daw," he said. I tolt him I wouldn' have no idea how t' do such a thing. He tol' me he'd made plenty a rings fer girls jus' t' git in their pants. He pointed t' th' tattoo of the dancin' lady on 'is forearm. "I made a ring fer that little gal right there." The more I hung aroun' Uncle Blaine, th' more I realizt he had done some wild an' crazy things in his life. We went over t' his place after dinner, an' he showt me how to make a ring fer Nelly.

He showt me somethin' lookt like a bar o' soap.
"This here's cuttlebone. Birds like to peck at this stuff cuz it sharpens their beaks. Now, watch this." He took an ice pick an' started makin' a groove in the cuttlestone, round an' round. "See?" he said, "I'm makin' a circle 'bout th' size of a ring. Now, you do that on th' other side. Ye' gotta try t' imagine her fingers. Does she have skinny fingers?"
"Well, acshuly, she's got purty strong fingers from milkin' cows."
"Well, alright then," Uncle Blaine said, "Try t' imagine that one finger, an' make ye a circle what will go aroun' it." So, I sat there goin' roun' an' roun' with the ice pick tryin' t' imagine Nelly's marryin' finger while Uncle Blaine sippt on a beer. Affer a while, he said, "Alright, that looks good." He went in th' back room an came out with a propane torch an' some wire. "This here is silver solder, Daw. It melts real quick-like. So take this torch an holt it while I light it up. I watcht as he lit it up, an' turned th' knob down 'til there was just a liddle pointed blue flame. "Now, take this wire, an hold it over th' cuttle bone, an' try t' drip th' silver inta th' groove ye made." The meltin' silver was splatterin onta th' floor, but Uncle Blaine said not t' worry about it. He tol' me t' drop the cuttlebone inta some water in th sink. "Now jus' git that cuttlebone, an' break it in half, Daw." I did, an' the ring fell out t' the bottom of th' sink. I pickt it up. It had globs of silver all over it, but it was a ring. "All right," Uncle Blaine said, "Let's call it a night." He gave me a file an' some sandpaper an tolt me t' work th' ring down t' my likin'. On th' way back t' granny's, he askt me if I had some kinda stone t' put in th' ring. I tol' him no. He said, "Well, look Daw, jus' go down by the river an' find ye a little purty pebble. It's got t' be real liddle - no bigger 'an a pea. Tomorry I'll show ye how t' put it in yer ring. Firs' thouh, ye need to shape the ring down, ok?" I nodded.

THE WAY THE DUST SETTLES

I sat on th' side of my bed that night, filin' an' sandin' away at Nelly's ring. I made some little groove marks all along it I thouht made it look more fancy. Tomorry I need t' find a stone fer it. I got t' thinkin' about lots o' stuff. I was thinkin' about how th' town of Shrewsbury almos' seemt back t' normal; people out workin' th' fields, women folk out hangin' laundry in th' yard, chil'ren runnin' aroun' an' waitin' fer the ice cream truck. Ye' wouldn't know if ye' just pullt inta town, that a few weeks ago the whole town was torn apart, an' death was in th' air, an' clouds of black coal dust was swirlin' all about, an' seven men got buriet alive.

I laid back on my bed an' slid the ring on an' off my pinky finger. I was imaginin' me an' Nelly standin' by th' Rose o' Sharon bush an' vowin' t' always be t'gether come hell or high water, an' kissin' Nelly right there with ever'body watchin' an' knowin' we jus' sealt th' deal.

D DAY

I did find th' perfec' liddle pebble fer Nelly's ring down along th' river. It was quite tiny, but it was round an' colort a yeller orenge that the sun shined throuh. Uncle Blaine said it was quartz. I rollt it aroun' in a wet rag of toothpaste an' bakin' powder 'til it was nice an' shiny. Uncle Blaine helpt me set th' stone inta th' ring by makin' a hole that fit it, an' stickin' it in there with some horse hoof glue. It lookt perfekt, an' th' stone lookt like th' very light in Nelly's eyes.

Sunday, our marryin' day, was on a June 6. Uncle Blaine said it was a good omen, on accoun' of that was th' day in history what markt th' beginnin' of th' end fer Hitler. I likt that idea. Fer me an' Nelly it was th' beginnin' of th' end of our lives in Shrewsbury, an' th' start of a whole new life.

TH' COMIN' OF THE BRIDE

Uncle Blaine tolt me I don' need t' have me a Best Man at th' weddin' 'cause I was my own best man. But I begged 'im 'cause Nelly was havin' a Maiden of Honor; her mama. He fin'lly said he'd do it. Granny tolt me that when th' hour come, I was t' go stand by th' Marryin' Bush an' wait fer my bride. I was a bit embarrassed when I discovert my best Sunday pants was a bit shorter than what they used t' be. I guess my legs had outgrown my need t' go t' church over recen' months, so I was surprist. Th' weddin' was t' be at two in th' affernoon, an' I had some kinda scart feelin' all mornin' fer some reason. Uncle Blaine come in an' I never afore seen him all slickt up. He give me a tie an' showt me how t' tie it. It lookt kinda silly t' me in th' mirror. He kinda lit up when I showt him th' ring all polisht up.
"Oh you got it made now, son. Her liddle eyes is gonna pop out when she sees that!" He tol' me he'd keep it in his vest pocket 'cause as my Best Man it was his job t' hand me th' ring when it came time t' put it on Nelly's finger. He lookt me up an' down an' said I lookt hotter than a two doller pistol. "Alright, Daw. Ye' ain't got a trouble in' th' worl'. All you gotta do is jus' stan' still by the Marryin' Bush an' wait fer yer bride t' show up. Kinda keep an eye on 'er 'cause somtimes gals git all light-headed in times such as this, so ye' wanna be ready t' catch 'er if she goes t' faintin'." I took a big swaller, thinkin' about the idea of Nelly faintin' on me.

TH' MOMENT OF TRUTH

I stood out in th' yard by the Rose O' Sharon bush. Uncle Blaine tol' me that Nelly an' her mama had done slippt in t' the back door of granny's house. He steppt up aside me an' said we prob'ly ought be facin' toward granny's front porch 'cause Nelly would likely be comin' out in a coupla minutes. Granny appeart from aroun' th' side of th' house in her best Sunday dress, an' carryin' a bible. She was wearin' white gloves. She smilt at me as she approacht.
"Yer lookin' right handsome an' respecktabl', Dawson," she said. She pullt off one of 'er gloves an' wet a coupla fingers with 'er mouth an' slickt down th' top of my head a bit. She nodded an' smilt. "Mighty respecktable, in deed."

A couple of granny's lady friends appeart an took t' talkin' with granny a bit. A woman I think was Missus Akkerson's sister came out of th' house an come up t' me, an' shook my hand. She was real frien'ly an' tolt me she was glad t' meet me. An' the mail man, Arnold, even showt up along with Matty Jenkins, an ol' timer, an' long-standin' friend of my gran'daddy's. Then, it seemt ever'thing got real quiet, an' ever'body was sorta lookin' off t' th' front porch. Then there was th' sound of music comin' from an open winder off th' front room. It was granny's ol' record player playin' weddin' music.
"Don't ferget t' breathe," Uncle Blaine whispert in my ear.

I heard the screen door squeak open, an' then there was Nelly, an' her mama standin' at th' top o' th' stairs. They was arm in arm as they begun slowly steppin' down. I could tell Nelly was tryin' to look down over her belly not t' miss a step. She had a bouquet of Black-Eyed Susans in her hand. Then, there she was, comin' across th' grass. She lookt like somethin' outa a fairy tale. Her dress was white an' lookt like gauze, an' it went plum down t' her ankles. An' there was a chain of white daisies wrappt aroun' her head like a halo. She was lookin' right at me, an' smilin'. I felt a bit dizzy, an' my knees took t' quiverin' a liddle 'til Uncle Blaine pokt me in th' ribs with his elbow. Then there she was standin' there right in front of my eyes.
"Hi Catfish," she said, an' there was a liddle giggle went throuh th' crowd.
"Golly, Nelly," was all I could manage t' say. Granny cought a liddle, an' we turnt t' look at her. The music went off with a loud scratch like somebody jus' yankt on th' needle. I felt in a daze, an' there was a liddle gust of air that made th' hair on th' back of my neck stand up as granny took t' talkin' th' marryin' words.

"Today marks th' beginnin' of a holy an' eternal bond between a man an' a woman. Jeremy Moorhead and Annalee Ann Akkerson stand here t'day t' join their hearts t' gether as one." Th' soun' of granny's voice seemt t' be goin' in one ear an' out th' other faster than I could ponder a thing she was sayin'. My eyes went to a bumble bee over granny's shoulder snugglin' down into a Rose O' Sharon blossom.

"Jeremy Moorhead, do you take Annalee Akkeron t' be yer lawful wedded wife?.... Jeremy??" Fer a brief minute there, I had plum forgot my own name.
"Yes ma'am, I do." Then granny took t' recitin' the various circumstances like, "...fer better or worse?....in sickness an' in health?....from this day forth?"
"Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am. Yes ma'am...." Then she went t' askin' Nelly them same questions. Nelly's eyes was wellin' up like a river about t' spill th' bank. "Jeremy," granny askt, "Do you have a ring?" I nodded, an' Uncle Blaine tugged on my arm an' handed it to me. Nelly helt out her hand an' it was shakin' a liddle. She lookt down an' gaspt as I slippt it on her finger. Somehow, it got stuck on her middle knuckle. She pullt it off an' lickt it an' handed it back t' me.
"Now try it," she said. There was liddle giggles goin' off in th' circle of folks aroun' us.
"Annalee, do you have a ring?" granny said. I hadn' even thouht about that. But Nelly nodded, an' took a ring her mother handed her. I recognized it right away. It was her daddy's weddin' ring. She had showt it to me a long time ago. It was loose on my finger when she slippt it on. I guess Nelly's daddy had bigger hands than me. Granny then pronounct us husban' an' wife an' tolt me I could go ahead an' kiss my bride. Nelly had a coupla liddle tears runnin' down her face, so I kisst 'em off, an' then kisst her on th' lips while ever'body was clappin' hands an' cheerin'.

Aroun' th' back of granny's house an' unner a big Sycamore, there was a table wih a purty cake sittin' on it, an' plates of cookies, an' things. Granny had done went an' made a chocalate cake that was four stories tall. Four layers, anyhow. It musta been a foot tall if it was an inch! There was a little man an' woman on th' top. I knew right away they was granny's salt an' pepper shakers that Uncle Blaine brung her from Japan when he come home from th' war.

Well, we all had some o' granny's cake, an' then we was just standin' an' sittin' aroun', an' ever'body seemt t' be talkin' at th' same time. I jus' kept lookin' over at Nelly bein' frien'ly with ever'one, an showin' them her ring. Uncle Blaine give me a key t' his house an' tol' me he an' granny had cleaned it up an' made it comfertable if'n we wanted to have our weddin' night there. Funny as it seems, I hadn' even given a thouht t' where me an' Nelly was gonna be sleepin' now that we're marriet folk.

MR. AND MRS. MOORHEAD

We was plenty tired by th' time we said goodbye an' thank you t' ever'one, an walkt down th' road t' Uncle Blaine' house. Nelly was barefootin' it in th' dirt an' carryin' her purty shoes. The front porch light was on at Uncle Blaine's place. There was a note on th' door. It said: 'Welcome home fer awhile'. It was signt by granny an' Uncle Blaine. I opent th' door an helt it fer Nelly.
"Daw,' she said. "Yer su'post t' carry me over th' threshold." I reacht both arms aroun' her an' picked her up by her bottom. "Daw," she gigglt, "Not thata way!"
"Too late now," I said, haulin' her on inta th' house. So that's how our first night together as husban' an' wife began. Granny had made Uncle Blaine's bed up with fresh linens an' a purty quilt. An' Uncle Blaine had set a bottle of wine, an' two glasses on th' table by th' bed. I reckon, at this point, I'll jus' leave th' rest to yer imaginashin. I will say, we woke up th' nex' mornin' naked an' feelin' embarrasst about it somehow. But, we got over that, an' wound up stayin' in bed at leas' another hour.

CORALOO AKKERSON

That was 'er name, Coraloo. Mos' folks callt her Curly, 'cause she had th' curlies' hair ye' could imagine. She was Missus Akkerson's sister an' she livt on down th' river about an hour if ye' was rowin' a little with th' curren'. Curly was a bit younger 'an Missus Akkerson, an' she was an intarestin' gal. Ye' could tell she had her some educatin' on accoun' of th' way she talkt, an' th' stuff she talkt about. She could talk about somethin', an then talk even more about it.

Like there was this one day we was all sittin' out on th' porch at Nelly's mama's place, an' Wishbone came a trottin' acrosst th' yard. When he come a waddlin' up th' steps, Curly said,
Why Nelly, yer liddle pig's got cherry eye!"
"One of 'is eyes has been lookin' sorta red th' pas' few days," Nelly said, as Curly bent down t' look at Wishbone's face.
"Yep, that's cherry eye, alright," she said. "Pigs git it all th' time rootin' aroun' in slop." I askt 'er if it would go away affer awhile, an' she tol' us that
sometimes it does, but sometimes it don't. She said if'n ye' don' keep an eye on it, it can run away on ye' an' ye'll wind up with a blind pig on yer hands. Well, Nelly likt t' had a fit when she heard that.
"Oh no! We gotta git Wishbone over t' the vetranaryian, Daw!" she said with a scart look on 'er face.
"Nelly, don't git yer unnerpants all tanglt up," Curly said. "Ye kin fix this all by yer self." She wen' in th' house an' come out with a big leather bag, like a saddle bag. "Here's what we're gonna do," she said fishin' aroun' in 'er bag. She pullt out a big squeeze bottle what lookt a bit like a baby's bottle. She handed it t' Nelly. "Now, you kin do this, Nelly," she said. "Dawson, you hold onta Wishbone an' try t' hol' 'is head still. This here is saline solution, Nelly. Ye' kin make yer own with reg'lar table salt an' some warm water. Now you just go on an' squirt some of it inta that cherry eye." Nelly squatted down best she could an' grippt th' bottle with both hands. The water went squirtin' all over Wishbone's face, an' on me too. When Curly tolt 'er t' hold it closer t' Wishbone's eye it workt a lot better. Curly said if we was t' do that fer a coupla days, Wishbone's eye should clear up ok. I askt her if it was callt sailin' solution 'cause of all th' salt water in th' ocean. But she tolt me it weren't 'sailin' solution, it were 'sayleen s'lution.

It turnt out Curly knew a lot about babies, too. She'd even delivert a few. She askt Nelly if she could take a look at 'er belly. So, we wen' in t' Nelly's bedroom an' Nelly laid down. Curly slid Nelly's dress up. I was kinda bendin' down t' watch.
"Quit lookin' so hard, Daw!" Nelly said. Curly run her hands around on Nelly's belly.
Don' take t' fussin' Nelly," Curly said. "He needs t' know about all this as much as you do. Yer a'dominal muscles feel purty strong, that's good," Curly said as she felt aroun' on Nelly. "An' yer baby's azackly where it oughta be. Nice an' low, an' head down. "Now, let me go scrub up my han's, I need t' check on another thing or two, but I think yer lookin' good, Nelly." Nelly yankt her dress back down when Curly left.
"Quit lookin' at me so much, Daw. It's embarassin'."
"Well, I got t' Nelly. I gotta know such stuff about my own wife. What would happen if'n we was off by th' river, an' the baby started comin' out? I'd have t' deliver 'er all by myself."
"Well, ok, I reckon," Nelly said. "But, ye' don' have t' look like yer enjoyin' it so much."
Curly come back in, and set down aside Nelly on th' bed. She put some vaseline on her fingers. "Now, Nelly, this won't hurt, darlin'. I'm jus' gonna feel aroun' a bit an' see if ever'thing seems alright fer ye t' have this baby, ok?"
"Daw," Nelly said, "Go sit down over there yer blockin' th' light." I could tell Nelly was gittin' flustered, so I backt off a bit an' set down. Hell, I guess I'd feel a bit funny too with somebody feelin' up inside me.

All right Nelly," Curly said. "Yer pelvic wall feels good an' healthy, an' yer pelvic bones is nicely spread. I think that baby will come a poppin' right outa there when th' time comes."
"Do ye reckon, its a boy or a girl?" Nelly askt.
"Well," Curly said, wipin' her han's with a cloth, "Lookin at the way yer baby's percht, an' jus' feelin' the easy way it moves aroun', If I had t' guess, I'd say its a girl. But I could be wrong, wouldn' be the firs' time. But you know how boys are," she said, glancin' over t' me, "They tend t' kick an' fuss a lot."

I likt Curly. She seemt t' always know what she was talkin' about. An' I was more than happy when she tol' us she was plannin' t' come an' stay at Missus Akkerson's place a week afore th' baby was due. She said they wasn't a thing t' worry about, an' she'd be right here t' help.

Y'know, I try t' be brave in th' face of th' unknown. When yer up agin a wall, ye jus' gotta try yer best t' get over it, or aroun' it, or even unner it if ye have to. But, it helps t' have somebody in th' sitiation with ye. So, I was mighty relieved t' know that Curly aimt t' be lendin' a hand. I gave her a big hug when she left.
"Don' worry, Daw," she said. "I'm gonna help ya'll git through this. You jus' act nice an' calm aroun' Nelly, even if yer not quite feelin' thata way It'll help Nelly t' jus' relax an' git ready."

ELLE ARRIVE!!

That's what Coraloo said that night above th' sound of Nelly screamin'. She said that in this case it meant that th' baby's here. They was French words. But, t' make th' short story long, let me tell ya about that night. It was a Thursday. July th' 'leventh.
Nelly was goin' about th' house with one hand down on her lower back, an' th' other rubbin' aroun' on her very big belly. An' she was mutterin' stuff like, " Oh, I jus' feel tight as a big ol' tick," an' "Oh, me, I fell like I'm about t' pop! I'm like a big ol' balloon about t' pop!" I wisht she wouldn' keep talkin' about poppin'. I been nervous ever since Curly said she thouht th' baby was gonna 'jus' come poppin' right outa there'. I was beginnin' t' think maybe I needed t' have a big ol' apple basket on hand t' catch this flyin' baby! I sat on th' couch with 'er, an' tryt t' rub her back an' her shoulders. One minute she'd say, "Rub me harder, Daw. Do it really hard." Then th' nex' minute she'd say, "Ow, dammit! Don' rub me so hard, Dawson!" I knew women was complicat'd, but I was really jus' beginnin' t' know jus' how complicat'd.

IN TH' NICK OF TIME

I knew Coraloo would be comin' that affernoon, an' I was glad about that. I kept havin' these pichurs in my head of th' baby suddenly poppin' out, an me runnin' fer th' basket. I was sittin' there holdin' Nelly thinkin' about that, when Nelly said in a very quiet voice,
"Uhh Ohhh..." I lookt down where she was lookin' an' there was a puddle formin' aroun' Nelly's slippers. I said,
"Don' worry, darlin', that's happent t' me afore too." Nelly said,
"I didn' jus' pee myself, Daw. My water jus' broke." Well, ye' might as well have rung th' four alarm bell. "Oh no! Yer beginnin' t' pop!" I said. I ran t' th' back door an hollert t' Missus Akkerson who was hangin' out clothes. "The baby is comin'! Th' baby is comin'!" She come arunnin' in a hurry. We run in th' house t'gether, an' there was Nelly standin' there moppin' up th' water with a rag unner 'er foot.
"My water done broke, mama," she said, wipin' her foot aroun' on th' floor. Missus Akkerson lookt at me.
"Dawson, I'm glad ye callt fer me, but jus cause 'er water broke don' mean th' baby's about t' come flyin' out like Tinkerbell. Nelly, you go clean yer self up, an' put on a fresh gown, y' hear? I'll come an' help ye' in a minute. Ye' need t' jus lie down now."
"Yes, mama," Nelly said.

I sat out on th' front porch steps lookin' up an' down th' road fer Coraloo. I was a fish outa water, fer sure. I somehow started thinkin' about noodlin' in the river with gran'daddy, an' about ol' Catfish Cooper. An' it occurrt t' me that havin' a baby is sorta like noodlin'. Mos' th' time yer jus' patien'ly waitin', an' then when that ol' fish come poppin' up, ye' grab it fer dear life. It made me feel a bit better t' think about that baby like it was a catfish 'cause I'm quite good at catchin' catfish.

I could see red dust risin' down th' road, an' I heard th' rattle of Coraloo's ol' panel truck, an' then th' motor backfirin' as she geart down aroun' th' bend. I made a note in my head t' tune her motor up for her. An' then there she was pullin' up t' th' house.
"Len' me a han', Daw," she said as she climbt out. We wen' aroun' back of 'er truck an' she opent th' doors an' handed me a stack of towels. "Run these in t' Charlie," she said.
"Charlie?"
"Charlene, Daw," Curly said. "My sister. Nelly's mama. I jus' always callt 'er Charlie."
That was th' firs' time it acshuly occurt t' me that Missus Akkerson had a firs' name.
"Nelly's water done broke," I tol' her.
Curly nodded an' reacht inta th' truck fer her saddle bag, an' some other stuff.
"That's good," she said. "Yer gonna be a daddy t' night," she said, tossin'' me a big smile. "Are ye' ready?" I nodded, but I don' know if any body kin acshuly be ready to see a whole new baby come inta th' world. Nevertheless, I sight a sigh of relief knowin' Curly was here. I didn' have t' act like I was the cap'n of th' ship anymore. Curly could be th' cap'n, an' I'd try t' be her handy first mate. An' now we was about t' venture out on th' sea of life.

THE CLOCK TICKT ON AN' ON

We had us sev'rel chairs pullt up aroun' Nelly's bed. There was a coupla candles an' a oil lamp flickerin'. There was a 'lectric light in th' ceilin', but Nelly said it was too bright. Curly an' Missus Akkerson an' Nelly talkt sorta quiet back an' forth. I mos'ly sat there holdin' Nelly's hand. Her palm was sorta sweaty.
"Daw, git yer Nelly a nice col' cloth t' wipe 'er face with," Missus Akkerson said.

I was in th' kitchen wringin' a rag out at th' sink when I heard Nelly yell somethin' awful. When I hurriet back in, she was sorta huffin' an' puffin'. Curly lookt at her watch.
"Seven minutes," she said.
I wipt Nelly's red face down. She had her eyes closed.
"Don' leave me, Daw," she said almost like a whisper.
"I ain't goin' nowheres, Nelly," I said.

Th' nex' half hour or so was like bein' on a roller coaster. There'd be minutes of quiet, an' then what seemt an eternity of moans an' screams, an then quiet again. Nelly even cussed a few times. An' onct she grabbt at my arm so hard, her fingernails drew blood. Curly tol' me three times t' go wash my hands. I don' think my han's has ever been so clean. Missus Akkerson an'Curly helpt Nelly scoot down t' the bottom edge of th' bed. An' Nelly had her knees drawed up.

"Ok, here we go," Curly said, it's startin' t' crown." I lookt over her shoulder an' could har'ly believe it. The pink wet top of th' baby's head was slowly pushin' out from b'tween Nelly's legs. Curly stood up from th' chair between Nelly's legs an' said, "You best be sittin' down fer this, Daw." She pushed me down in th' chair. That was th' firs' secon' I realizt Curly was plannin' on me catchin' this baby when it come flyin' out. Curly laid a towel across my lap. "Jus' hol' yer han's down here, Daw," Curly said, pushin' my arms down. Nelly was makin' gruntin' soun's, an Curly was sayin' "Nice an' steady, Nelly. Jus' nice an' steady."

It seemt my eyes was stuck wide open. I ain't sure I was even breathin'.
"Nice 'an quiet-like, Dawson," gran'daddy said. "Jus let that ol' catfish come to you." Th' baby's head was gittin' bigger. I could see its liddle nose. "Put yer han's unner its head Daw," Curly said. "Jus' nice an' still like. That's it. Don't try to pull on it. Jus' let it slide on inta yer palms. Thata boy."
"I think that ol' catfish is about ready t' make its move, Daw," gran'daddy whispert. I nodded.

The baby's head got free an' suddenly turnt t' one side. "Perfect," Curly said. "Jus' cradle its head, Daw. Slide one hand unner its back. That's it. Here it comes. Th' baby's arms slippt out an' they jerkt inta th' air like tryin' t' catch somethin'. My han's was wet an' slipp'ry, an' there was steam comin' up from between Nelly's legs. "Jus nice an' steady, Daw," Curly said, bendin' down close t' me. "Here it comes, jus' cradle it right down on yer lap."
"Holt onta her, boy," gran'daddy hollered. It seemt like it jus' plopped right down on my lap all of a sudden. "It's a girl!," Curly announct. The baby lookt all slimy an' bloody, an' it was wavin' its arms an' kickin' its feet, an' cryin' like a wil'cat. I could hear Nelly cryin' too. Curly took t' wipin' on th' baby's eyes an' nose, an' mouth.
"What's wrong with 'er," I said.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with 'er, Daw. She's perfekt," Curly said.
"Why's she screamin' then?"
"Its when they don't cry you worry, Daw. Now, wrap yer towel aroun' her an' lift 'er up here t' her mama. Bring 'er right up here 'tween Nelly's legs."
"What about th' cord?" I said, lookin' at it danglin' out from th' towel.
"We'll git t' that in a minute. Jus' put 'er up there on Nelly's belly." Nelly's han's reacht out fer it.
"Its a girl," I said.
"I know, Daw," she sobbt. "Its Robin Bluebell."
I wen' up aside Nelly an' watcht her rub her fingers aroun' on Robin Bluebell's face. She was gigglin' an cryin' at th' same time. I put my face down close an' lookt at th' liddle baby. She was lookin' right back at me.
"Hello, Robin Bluebell," I said. I knew right there in that moment, smellin' Nelly's hot breath on my face, an' lookin' inta Robin Bluebell's eyes, that I was a goner fer sure. And to this very day, that remains true.

"Go ahead an' see if'n she'll take yer tit, Nelly," Missus Akkerson said. Jus' rub it agin her mouth, an' milk it a liddle. There ye' go." I stood hypmatized watchin' that liddle baby suckin' on Nelly. Her liddle fingers was even tryin' t' hold onta Nelly's tit.
"Come 'ere, Daw," Curly said. "Feel on th' cord. Do ye feel any pulse?" I felt it an' shook my head no, as I lookt at th' cord danglin' down 'tween Nelly's legs an' disappearin' inta where it all started. Curly rollt th' baby over a bit on Nelly's belly an' handed me a string. "Tie a good ol' fashiont' knot right there, Daw," she said, pointin' up close t' th' baby's belly. "Tie it good an' tight. Perfekt, Daw!" she said. She handed me another string. Now tie ye another one right about there. She pointed a few inches further down. "You get th' honors, Daw," she said, handin' me a straight-edged shavin' razor. I har'ly recall ezackly, but, I cut th' baby loose. Curly laid out a towel unner Nelly's bottom, an' a pan t' catch th' after birth. Missus Akkerson give me a big hug, "Congratulations! Yer a daddy!" I nodded, but I was a bit weak in th' knees, I don' mind tellin' ye. Then Curly hugged me. I hugged her back real hard, an' thankt her fer bein' here. "Why I har'ly had anything t' do," she said. "You brouht that liddle girl inta th' worl' all by yerself, didn' ye? Nex' time ye needn' be callin on me t' help. Yer a natchural!"
"Ye got 'er, Dawson!," gran'dady hollert. "Yer a born noodler! Lord, what a fish!"

End of Part II

The Tale of the Turtle and The Pig.....And More

THE TALE OF THE TURTLE AND THE PIG

After spendin' a day at sea, I decided t' spend that nex' day wanderin' Ossabaw Island an' gettin' t' know more about the place. First off, I went to this store down by the wharf that had a lotta gear fer folks that was the sea-goin' type. I foun' me a pair o' big ol' rubber boots the man in the' store callt Helly Wellys. They was a bit like what the Cap'n was wearin'. The man said they was real easy to kick off if you was to fall overboard. He said if'n ye was wearin' some boots ye' couldn' git off, they'd fill up with water right fast an' you'd sink down to Davy Jones' locker. The pichur of drownin' in boots full o' water was enouf to convince me to buy me some Helly Wellys. An' I got me a big ol' waterproof floppy hat too that had a chin strap so's it wouldn' blow off yer head in a storm. Then I went an' bought me a straw hat cuz I was hankerin' to walk th' beach, an' I was sunburnt enouf already.

After puttin' on my Helly Wellys an' my straw hat, I set off fer th' beach. I soon fount out that ye can walk th' beach fer ever an' ever. After awhile, lookin' up an' down the beach I was all by myself. Not a person anywhere's nor a house. Jus' sand, an' ocean, an some grassy dunes, an' beyond them, palmetto groves. I saw an island pig comin' out of a grove an' down over a dune, but when he saw me, he turnt an' went th' other way. Goin' a ways further, I come acrosst a man takin' pichurs of a big ol' turtle. Th' turtle lookt like he was jus' paddlin' about in the sand with his big flipper feet. The man was takin' pichurs of all this. When he was finisht, I askt him about what it was that big ol' turtle was doin'. He tol' me these Loggerheads come up outa th' sea an' make themselves a nest in th' sand, an' they lay their eggs there. As we stood there watchin', sure enough, that turtle laid three big eggs in the hole she dug. Then she sorta crawlt outa th' hole an' took to coverin' them up, kickin' sand over 'em. Finally, she just waddled off inta th' ocean an' disappeart. The man said she wouldn' come back, she'd jus' leave them eggs to hatch all by theirselves, an' then the baby turtles would crawl off inta the sea too.

I askt th' man if them Loggerheads was good eatin'. He tol' me people have eaten sea turtles fer centuries. But, fact is, these days, many are thinkin' its not a good idea cuz purty soon all the turtles would be gone fer ever. He tol' me that here on th' island the turtles got big enouf problems all ready on accoun' of the pigs. Seems these island pigs got themselfs a taste fer turtle eggs, so they patrol the beach lookin' fer nests, an' root 'em up with their noses. He said as far as he was concernt, it was a big problem cuz the island folks like their turtles what come to visit, but they like their pigs too.

I sat fer ahwile on th' beach jus' list'nin' t' th' sea roll in. An' I laid back an' clost my eyes, an' jus' lissnt. I felt like a baby bein' rockt t' sleep.

THE LETTER

When granny hollered fer me, I was on the back porch gettin' a big ol' tuna I brung home ready to cook on th' grill. A speshul treat fer granny an' gran'daddy. I callt back to 'er, an' she came out an' handed me an envalope.
"This came in th' mailbox fer you," she said. I lookt at it. It was made out t' Jeremy Moorhead. That was me, alright, but ain't nobody callt me that fer a long time. Not sinct Aunt June bug re-namt' me Dawson. Ever' since then ever'one callt me Dawson or by my self-given nickname 'Catfish'. Then I read who it was from. Missus Jolene Moorhead. I lookt up at granny. She was smilin' at me.
"Is this from my mama?" I said, my voice sorta crackin'. She nodded.
"I'll let ye read it by yerself, an' if ye wanna tell me about it ye can, Dawson." She turnt an' walkt inta the house.

I sat on the porch step an' lookt at her name on th' envalope , not hardly knowin' what t' think. It was from somewheres in Texas. I opent it up, my hands sorta shakin' a bit. It was two pages long, an' written in a nice hand.

"My Dearest Jeremy,

How I have missed you and Axel over the years! I suppose I don't deserve for you or your brother to ever wish to know me since I left you there so long ago. But not a day has gone by but what I haven't wondered how you were, and how you were growing, and what you looked like as the years passed. I suppose you are both handsome young men now. I know and truly have prayed that my mother and father would look after you both. I knew then when I left, that it was the best I could do.

Perhaps you have wondered whatever happened to me, and where did I go, or if I was even still alive. It's a long story, Jeremy. For now, let me say that when I left Shrewsbury, I didn't even know where I was going at all. I was just wanting to find your father and,................as it just so.....happened,........."

I woke up on the sand aroun' sunset, still thinking for a minute that I was readin' a letter from my ma. I ain't never had no kinda dream about her. In fact, mos' days I didn' even think about 'er at all. I realizt I had jus' slept fer sev'ral hours when I was suppost t' be loadin' up fish t' take back t' Shrewsbury. At that point I reckon'd I'd need t' stay over another night at th' motel.

HEADED HOME AGAIN

Rufus had his hands load me up with some crates of shrimp, mackeral, and tuna. He notisst m' boots an' tol' me I coul keep 'em in the locker on the Pelikin's Folly. But, I tol' him I was plannin' on wearin' 'em home so I could show 'em off. He laughed at that, but said,
"Well alright then, but ye' are plannin' on comin' back ain't ye?"
"Aye, Cap'n," I replyd. "I'm a sea-farin' man now!"
He laughed again. "Well, ye' go an' holler that at that ocean out yonder, an' see if it don't put ye t' th' test, mate."
I waved at 'im as I pullt away.
"See ya nex' week, Cap'n!"

When I got home an' unloaded my truck over in Round Town, I askt granny how Uncle Blaine was doin'.
"Well, he's some better, I reckon, but he's still a bit puny if ye' ask me. He's been kinda worryin' about lettin' ye make that run by yer lonesome. Now, where did ye git them funny lookin' boots?"
"Them's my sea-goin' boots, granny. I done went out t' sea, an' me an' Cap'n Rufus caught all them fish I jus' brung back."
"Lord, have mercy, I do declare!" granny said.
"I made me a whole lot o' money, granny. The Cap'n, he paid me fer helpin' 'im bring in th' fish, an' then I got me some more money sellin' em over in Round Town." I pullt a big ol' wad o' dollers outa my pocket.
"Well now, ain't that a sight!" granny said. I pullt off sevrel bills an' stuck 'em in her hand.
"Now you take this granny, an' go buy yerself a bonnet an' some perfume. An' I ain't takin' no fer an answer. Granny took t' cacklin' so hard she almos' lost her teeth.
"Now, wouldn' I be th' talk o' th' town sportin' a bonnet, an' stinkin' up the air!
Maybe I'll jus' git me some o' them boots like yourn. They'd be right handy sloppin' the pigs."
"Well, y' jus' go on an' git whatever yer heart desires, but while yer at it, git gran'daddy a big ol' cigar, an' git my aunty some o' that there cherry smokin' tobaccy she likes." She took t' laughin' agin.
"Well, alright then. Yer somethin' else, Dawson, I do declare. They went an' broke th' mold when they made you!" I kisst granny on th' cheek, an' took off t' see my Nelly.

NELLY'S BELLY

It'd only been a few days, but I swear, Nelly lookt like she swallered a whole watermelon. I took to rubbin' on her belly, an' suddenly I ackshuly felt it movin' aroun'!
"Did ye' see that Nelly? That little baby was tryin' to feel my hand." Nelly giggled. I think that baby is jus' sayin' she ain't quite ready t' meet yer acquaintense." Missus Akkerson gave me a hug, an' then said,
"Well look at you!" She pointed at my big rubber boots. I kinda shrugged like it weren't no big deal.
"Aw, thems jus' my sea-goin' boots." Missus Akkerson made us all some hot chocolate, an' we sat aroun' the table, an' I tol' 'em about my latest adventure.
Nelly said,
"Dawson, I'm scart yer gonna git yerself drownt, an' leave me an' the baby all alone in th' world." I tryed t' calm 'er down.
"Cap'n Rufus said he ain't never seen no man take t' th' sea like I did. He said he would make me his first mate, if'n I stuck with it." 'Course I didn't tell 'em about how we had to fight off a storm, an' how I almos' puked my guts out, an' couldn' walk straight when I got back on land. I figgered there's some stuff a man can't tell a woman, 'cause they'd jus' get all emoshunal.
"What does that mean, Daw - 'first mate'?," Nelly askt.
"It means I'd be makin' me a whole lotta money, Nelly. Enough t' get us a little place on th' island. An' a place where's you'd have yer own room too, Missus Akkerson.
"Oh.lord have mercy, Dawson. What in th' world would I do on some island?"
"You wouldn't have t' do a thing, Mssus Akkerson. Onct you see Ossabaw Island, you'll wanna live there, I jus' know you will."
I sat out on th' front porch with Nelly fer a spell, an' I tolt 'er about my dream of gettin' a letter from my mama. She said maybe it was some kinda premanition. I shrugged an' said I didn' know zackly what it was. Then I tolt her about th' island pigs an' how they was stealin' eggs from the turtles. She weren't none too happy about that. She said she would never allow Wishbone t' do such a thing. That's my Nelly, she has such a sweet little heart.

Sometimes When Ye Can't Open A door, Sombody Comes Along.

I guess I've been feelin' purty good about myself, braggin', an' so on. But, I figgered I was gonna have t' think positive even if'n I was flyin' by th' seat o' my pants. Things come along sometimes, where ye' jus' gotta step up t' th' plate. I was fixin' t' be a daddy in th' wink of an eye. It weren't no time to be suckin' on my thumb. Truth is, I was quite scart about all these things. But, I figgered that sometimes ye' jus' gotta pretend yer way inta some other way of bein'. If it weren't fer my love of Nelly, ain't no way I'd be doin' what I'm doin' now. I gotta admit, there's times I jus' wish I was down along the river with gran'daddy noodlin' aroun' fer a catfish, or lettin' Aunt Arnelle make over me like I was a baby. I got this feelin' that somewhere inside of mos' ever' body no matter how olt, there's a little baby what wants to jus' be rockt t' sleep.

When I went over t' see my Uncle Blaine, he was actin' like he was back to normal, but I knew he weren't. I did convince him that we oughta grill this big ol' tuna I brung him. I brung him some of his favrite beer, too. We stood about the grill watchin' that big ol' fish cook up. I askt 'im who won the fight last night. He said,
"Sugar Joe. He's got a helluva upper-cut." He kinda motioned with his fist. I went t' tellin' 'im all about my experience on Ossabaw, an' about Rufus. An' I laid out a big wad o' dough he had comin'. He pusht it back at me.
"I don' need it Dawson. Ye' keep it fer yerself, ye' hear? The govermint keeps sendin' me checks ever' month, an' I kin get along jus' fine on that. I guess they's feelin' guilty fer makin' me go out an' kill people."

We took to just pullin' big chunks o' that tuna while it was still on th' grill, an' washin' it down with beer. Uncle Blaine tolt me he didn' rightly want t' be goin' on th' road. He got a taste of it fer ol' times sake, but he'd been down too many roads already. I tried t' tell 'im otherwise, but he jus' wouldn' hear it. He tolt me t' jus' take th' durn truck, an' see if I could make a life.
"But, I need ye' Uncle Blaine," I said. "Y' know so much about how t' do this kinda thing, an' I'm all wet behin' the ears." But, Uncle Blaine, he had his mind made up.
"Only thing, I want from you, Dawson, is fer you to figger out how to get the hell outa this town. Now, you owe it to yerself, you owe it to yer purty little Nelly. An' you kin do it. If ye' was to do that much, I'd feel like I done a right good thing t' lend ye' a hand." I tried t'give 'im a big hug, but he jus' pusht me away.
"Get offa me, boy. I'm jus' givin' ye' the fight of yer life. I'll be in yer corner. But, it's all up t' you. It's you whats got t' go an' take on ever' contender." With that he started re-enactin' Sugar Joe's fight. "He was dancin' aroun'. He was up on his toes. Dancin' in a circle. Fast little jabs. Talkin' t' the man. Then, in the seventh roun' he let go an uppercut outa hell. He droppt the man t' th' mat. See what I'm talkin' about, Dawson. That's th' way life is, it's a fight. Ye' gotta get in th' ring, an' talk some serious bus'nuss. Ye' see what I'm sayin'?" We then took t' sparrin'. I was jabbin' an' jabbin' inta Uncle Blaine's big meaty hands. An' he was sayin', "That's what I'm talkin' about. That's what I'm talkin' about. Bring it on. Is that all ye got?" I'll never ferget that night. I'll never ferget my Uncle Blaine. In some ways he was kinda like th' daddy I never had.

My Dreams Keep Gettin' Bigger

Me an' Nelly met with Missus Shire once a week like she tolt us t' do. She said I'd been doin' a purty good job keepin' up with my school work, an' she give me an 'A' on the report I wrote about the problem with the pigs an' the turtles on Ossabaw Island. But she did say, however that my spellin' was somethin' awful, an' I got a lot of room fer improvement where that was concernt. Nelly was an expurt speller. In fact, she won the big spellin' bee an' was pronounct th' best speller in th'county fer her age group. Whenever we was t'gether, she'd take to makin' me spell words. She knew some words I ain't even heard of. Like 'antidisitaryentabalism', or somethin' like that.

I made sev'rel more runs to th' island as spring was approachin'. An' me an' Cap'n Rufus was gettin' t' be a reglar team. I was gettin' right good at handlin' the Pelikin's Folly, an' one day th' Cap'n took hisself a nap on th' deck an' I brought 'er all the way back t' th' harbor by myself. I was really gettin' the fever fer th' sea, an' the Cap'n tolt me he was gonna make me 'first mate' come May. An' most excitin', he took me out t' this part o' th' harbor where he had an ol' boat house. He tolt me that if I wanted to, I could stay up in th' loft, instead o' payin' fer a room at The Three Little Pigs Motel. He had an ol' wooden boat dry-dockt below. He said it was his very firs' boat.
"She's a tired ol' lady now," he said pattin' his hand on the side of it. "Paints peelin' off, an' th' motor's blown t' hell. Been sittin' here fer 'bout ten years now - gettin' dry rot here an' there. I always thought I'd whip 'er back inta shape one o' these days, but I jus' ain't had th' time. I climbed up on' 'er, an lookt aroun'. There was dust ever'where, an' big flakes of blue an' green paint. There was an ol' trawlin' net full o' holes sittin' in a tanglt heap. "I reckon I out-growed 'er anyways, she ain't but half the size of The Pelikin's Folly. I walkt aroun' th' back an' dusted off the painted letters there. She was callt 'Aunt Chovy'.
"You want me t' help ye bring 'er back, Cap'n?"
"Naw, I reckon she'll jus' fade away over time. She was a spunky gal in her day though. I was jus' a kid like yerself when me an' my daddy built 'er. Guess I jus' keep 'er aroun' fer sentimentil reasons." I turnt an' lookt at 'im.
"Rufus, would you be willin' t' sell me this boat?" He took t' laughin'.
"Son, if'n you were t' take this ol' gal out on the water, you'd be drownin' in about ten minutes."
"I'd fix 'er up, Rufus. I'm handy. I could do it. I could bring Aunt Chovy back t' life, I jus' know I could. Can't ye' jus' pichur it, Cap'n? Aunt Chovy out there bobbin' aroun' like in the old days?"
"I'll tell ye' what, mate. You take ye' some time t' think about what yer talkin' about. Come May, if'n ye still got it on yer mind, well, we'll talk about it. Ye' can't take a boat out on th' water without the coast guard inspectin' it an' givin' ye a license fer it. Fer that matter, ye ain't even suppost t' be handlin' The Pelikin's Folly without a license to do that. I let ye' take the wheel a time or two, but if'n the Coast Guard was ever t' stop us, me an' you both would be in a heap o' trouble. Now, there's a place over in Savannah where ye' can take classes on seamanship, an' navigation. That's yer startin' place. Then, ye'll have to take an exam. If ye pass that, then yer a bona fide able-bodied seaman. Ye' see what I'm sayin', Dawson? There's a lot more to it, than meets th' eye. An' I can't even tell ye' how much it would take to bring Aunt Chovy outa th' mothballs. So, ye go, an' put all that in yer pipe an' smoke it. I ain't sayin' no, I'm jus' sayin' ye' can't go puttin th' cart before th' horse."

I knew Rufus was tellin' it t' me straight. I got a whole lotta learnin' t' do. I had more on my plate now than ever afore. I swept out th' loft of th' boathouse, an' made me a list of things I needed to get t' doin'. It was a long list. Lookin' back on it now, I musta lookt like a crazy person t' have such notions. An' on the drive back t' Shrewsbury I couldn't get th' Aunt Chovy offa my mind.

The Plague of Dreams

I suppose I consider myself to be a person of average intelligence. And, for the most part 'stable'. This is not to say that I've never had any 'What was I thinking?!' kinds of moments. I have had plenty of such, especially in social situations where I have impulsively blurted out some comment I wish I hadn't, and which typically got me into hot water of one kind or another. To tell you the truth, I am quite inept in social discourse. I say all this in preface as an explanation perhaps, for how it was I wound up at a small obscure university in Nova Scotia immersed in academic activity that increasingly removed me from the contemporary reality in which I performed so poorly. Who, in their right mind would spend endless hours poring over hand-written medieval manuscripts in search of font aberrations or eccentricities in scribal penmanship? But, it was my destiny it seems, to toil away in a library of forgotten texts, becoming more and more like a monastic scribe myself, cloistered away in some labyrinthian tower of ancient papers written by people long since turned to dust. It was as though I was a spy peering in on ancient history like a cryptographer decoding the subliminal and possibly sinister intent of a sentence that makes no sense today.

I actually became quite adept at discerning the subtleties that took place in the evolution of hand-written manuscripts prior to the invention of the printing press. And while I did publish several notable discourses on the shift from Textura to Angelia cursive script styles in the early to mid 14th century, I was finding myself increasingly unable to have normal conversation with my contemporaries. One cannot hope to attend a faculty cocktail party and find an audience when bringing up the subject of the evolution of the way a medieval pen was cut as it comes to bear upon the individual stylings of 15th century scribes, when they would just as soon contemplate the weather, or how to get into their graduate student's pants. I was increasingly lost in a world of matters that mattered to no one.

In case you are interested (though likely you are not..), it is quite clear that the artful scribe of the medieval period had little room for creative interpretation. His art was that of copying in the most minute and precise way, the important manuscripts of the day. No re-phrasing. No poetic license. No interpretation. His task was to create a hand-penned duplicate or clone of the original work. In the best exemplars of this exactness, it is virtually impossible to denote any difference at all between an original manuscript and its copy. Thus the evolution of the scribe's pen, and the emergence of Mixed Hand script in the 15th century was quite significant. It is here we see some expression of individuality emerge. Texts reproduced in Mixed Hand at first appeared to be an individually styled rendering of the (post-Angelia) Secretary script by an occasional scribe who got carried away in brief moments of self-expression. A Bastard Secretary script, if you will. But, as later history will confirm, such experiments with lines, letters, inked flourishes ascending or descending beyond the line, and so on, had some impact on the first fonts to be applied in the emergence of the printing press.

While teaching a graduate course on codicology and paleography, I was poring over term papers written by my students. It is a tedious thing to go over these pages of redundancy as a rule. I was perhaps half-asleep in my easy chair and sipping an apple brandy when I came to the paper of one Meredith Merriweather, one of my favorite students among the 75 or so faceless nameless bodies that occupied the seats of my lecture hall. And it was as I got about three pages into her work, that I came across her most startling finding. She had identified a few passages in a lengthy and boring late 14th century accountant's document inventorying the cargo holdings of a vessel owned by an early Genoese shipping company, that made my hair stand on end. Miss Merriweather stated she had chosen this manuscript despite its lengthy and tedious accounting of the ship's holdings, simply because there was no record that any scholar to date had taken the time to peruse such boring detail. In these passages it bcame clear to Miss Merriweather that the unknown scribe had slipped into some cryptomnesiac state describing an event he could not have actually experienced, but which was written as though he had. He describes with exacting detail the stunning beauty of a woman named Alatiel, daughter of a sultan of Babylon.

We know very little about Alatiel other than Boccacio's passing mention of her in The Decameron. But we do know, that while sailing away to escape the plague of the Black Death she was shipwrecked on the island of Majorca and held there by Christian captors. And there is evidence she went to great lengths to conceal her identity during that time. The scribe went on to recount conversations he had supposedly had with Alatiel, and in one instance quotes her as having said: "The blue-eyed scorpions have tainted the well, thus casting a spell on all who would drink thereof. And it is their fate to stagger henceforth through dream upon dream of love."

While we do know that Alatiel was known to have had promiscuous, even licentious affairs with many men, orgies, if you will, there has never to my knowledge been an accounting of her ways in her own words. Miss Merriweather's discovery is noteworthy on several accounts. Cryptomnesia in the form of automatic writing as evidenced in the scribe's account was not even conceptually identified until the emergence of such scholars of the unconscious as Freud and Jung. In fact, it was Carl Jung who first pointed to its existence in the writings of Nietzsche. Secondly, while mass hysteria in the medieval period has been noted in numerous ways, Alatiel's words are perhaps the first reference to hysteria as being founded in the world of dreams. Clearly her cryptic poem suggests a conscious rationalization for her sexually wanton behavior as having had something to do with 'the water' as a symbolic catalyst unleashing repressed desires. In this, Alatiel prefigures the discoveries of Freud and Jung regarding the role of the unconscious, by centuries.

As a footnote, I am happy to say that Miss Merriweather went on to become a foremost scholar on the role of dreams and the unconscious as evidenced in medieval instances of mass hysteria. And, I by association, gained some notoriety for having discovered her. I also went on to three years of Jungian analysis in an effort to understand myself and subsequently regained a foothold on contemporary reality again, and later even married Miss Merriweather.

The Way the Wheels Stoppt Rollin'

This here story is mos'ly 'bout my brother Axel. He was a coupla years oldern'n me, an' he liked to remin' me of that quite a lot. But, I did love 'im a lot. I surely did. I used to call 'im 'THE Axel', cuz there was always some kinda wheels goin' aroun' in his head. But, somehow, after he went an' killt Jackson fer making' our aunt June bug so crazy she hung herself, he didn't seem the same no more. Like his wheels was gettin' outa balance, or somethin'. He took to keepin' to hisself a lot. An' one day he jus' up an' hopped a north bound freighter, an' flat disappeared.

I don't know 'xactly what it was about growin' up in Shrewsbury that made for one kinda calamity or another. When the Axel rolled outa town, granny, she took to mos'ly readin' the bible on the front porch an' mumblin' to herself. An' gran'daddy, well, he jus kept a goin' about his work, but he didn't seem to have much to say about anything any more. It was like it didn't matter whether the sun was shinin' or not, Shrewsbury seemed stuck in some kinda a dark cloud.

Me an' my cousins, we took to holdin' burial services in the back yard. We musta buried ever' dead thing we come across. One day we buried a cat gran'daddy shot on account it broke into the hen house an' made off with a chicken. We buried a mouse, a butterfly, an' even an ol' earth worm what drowned in a rain puddle. (Firs' time it occurred to me that worms ain't got no idea how to swim.) An' we was quite ceremonial about all this payin' of respeck to the dearly departed.
"Lord, we call upon thee now to take this here little earthworm here into yer heavenly hands, struck down in life so young on account of no fault of his own. An, we pray lord you will have mercy on his soul. Amen." We would then take to singin' a coupla respeckful hymns. "Thar's pow'r in the blood, pow'r in the blood...."

Jus' when it looked like the sun might shine again, we got us a pichur card from Axel. It was right purty, but, Axel's writin' didn't make much sense. Fer one thing, it didn't even look like his hand. Fer another, it said: "Is this here the way it always is here in Baltimore?" Gran'daddy though, he just kept a starin' an' a starin' at that card, turnin' it one way, then th' other. Then he said to me, "Get yer bag together boy, we gotta get a move on it." I askt' him where we was goin', an' he jus' said, "Baltimore".

It was a long damn train ride, I can tell ye that. Seem like we stopped ever' town between here an' there. You could smell them wheels smokin' on th' rails as we rolled inta one town after another. I never saw so many strange faces in my life hoppin' on an' off that train. Where the hell is ever'body goin' was what I kept athinkin' all through the night. I was excited when we got to Baltimore, I could almos' smell we was close to finding Axel.

It wasn't anything like I thought it might be seein' Axel again. First of all, it took forever to find him. And secon' of all he was dead. I'm as rough an' tumble as they come, I reckon, but it was purty damn hard to look at my brother, The Axel, laying naked in the morgue. An' it weren't jus' he was naked, but his skinny body was all streaked with black lines what looked like train tracks all over his arms. An' his legs, too. The official man that let us see him said he had a cardiacal arrest, or somethin' like that cuz of something he called 'junk'.

Ever'thing else is kinda a haze. We headed home with Axel in a box back there in some cargo car, an' the ride home was longer than the ride there. We gave Axel an honoarble funeral.

"Lord, we call upon thee now to take this Axel here into yer heavenly hands, struck down in life so young on account of no fault of his own. An, we pray lord you will have mercy on his soul. Amen."

I miss Axel. An' some folks say he had it comin'. But, I reckon I don't see it that way. He jus' did what he had to do, an' found it hard to live with. But, like I said b'fore, I'da killt Jackson too, he jus' thought of it afore I did. Have mercy on his soul, Lord. An', me too.

The Curious Fate of One Juan Rodrigues

It was while browsing the brown and brittle pages of a turn of the century archeological journal that I came across an interesting account. According to an analytic report in the 1913 Journal of Archeological Anomalies of the Americas, co-authored by the noted team of Svenson and Balthazar, an unusual discovery had been made in the high desert of the El Cuervo region of the state of Chihuahua, Mexico. It had to do with stumbling upon what appeared to be the remains of a man named Juan Ramon Rodrigues, 30 miles west of Eldorado Mesa, near a prominent and solitary boulder in the desert referred to by locals as El Diablo. The article was entitled 'The Curious Fate of Juan Ramon Rodrigues'. It became clear early in the article that whether the discovered remains were, in fact what was left of this Juan Ramon Rodrigues, was, at that time (Fall, 1903) a point of conjecture, and in need of further research. I read on through the lengthy and somewhat tediously detailed document, curious about who this Juan Ramon Rodrigues was. After all, I had done extensive study of the region myself, and had never come across the name.

A court house document discovered in a small town nearby, does however, make mention of this man because of his claim to have discovered several gold coins that were clearly Spanish in design. That, and the discovery of a pick axe buried in the sand at the base of the El Diablo boulder bearing the carved letters, "J.R." support this conjecture. At this point in the treatise, the authors turn their attention to an examination of the boulder itself. How could it have come to stand in the middle of this vast and barren desert? The speculation that it was perhaps brought to that location from the nearest range of mountains in the distance, was quickly ruled out. The boulder in no way resembled the stratified sandstone, clay, and quartzite formations typical of any mountainous areas in that region. It was composed entirely of a granular red clay. Nor did it actually appear to be a boulder as such. It appeared to be more of a conical mound reminiscent of the giant termite or ant hills such as have been reported and documented in Zambia, South Africa.

The archeologists began then, to carefully probe the surface of El Diablo with hand tools in search of any tunnels or nests that might lie beneath its surface, even though ant or termite formations on this scale had never been noted as a part of this region's landscape. It was slow, careful and tedious work in the desert sun, as they gingerly began to carve into the surface. They worked very methodically digging gradually deeper in a carved line ascending vertically over the formation (which was said to be 7.3 meters high), and then vertically down its opposite side. At a depth of 15.2 centimeters (approximately 6 inches) there was no indication anywhere along this long continuous hand-carved groove of any kind of insect activity whatsoever. Nothing but a hard, seemingly sun-fired red clay. It is at this point that the team of Svensen and Balthazar made a sudden and astonishing discovery.

As Svenson placed his trowel into the fissure they had created, and struck it a modest blow with a wooden maul, the entire formation suddenly broke open and fell to the desert floor in pieces like a cracked egg. At this point, the team began to photograph and mark off this shattered structure in a large grid, and began to study it piece by piece. Clearly, a smaller quartzite and sandstone boulder had been contained within the large formation in the manner of a concretion. It had been encased in the larger mound of red clay. Oddly enough however, it appeared to have had a hollow air space around portions of it.

The authors at this point, describe their tedious assembly of the large clay fragments into two halves laid out on the desert floor. Their focus at this point was to try to understand the nature and form of the hollow shell itself. They describe, as this picture comes into focus piece-by-piece, what became at last evident. The hollow interior of the mound formed the perfect negative of a human body. A body that had been seemingly hugging or clinging to the smaller boulder at the center. It seemed impossible, but there it was, a vacuous ghost of someone not there, but defined by a shell of red clay the way a footprint in the sand makes such impressions. But, who was this person? And how had he become so entombed?

Is it possible it was a ceremony or ritual of some sort? Could superstitious people of the time have simply buried him in this manner upon finding his body in the desert? Or was he murdered? Or buried alive by people wanting only his coins? I traveled to Norway to speak with Svenson before he died. In a faltering voice he told me of reflections that he'd never written down. And they were this. Juan Rodrigues was likely at the wrong place at the wrong time. The sky must have turned blood red that day with fierce El Nino winds carrying a red clay dust from the west. Dust that blew for days and days. Apparently he had clung to the small boulder within El Diablo for several days until at last, he was suffocated by the wet clay in his nose and mouth. Over time, the desert sun had essentially fired the red clay heaped upon him. I asked him, why it was then, that his remains were not discovered within the hollow interior of El Diablo. He replied that upon soil analysis of the ground at the base of the smaller boulder, he noted a small concentration of such minerals as phophorous, sulfur, magnesium, iron, and others typical of the human body. There in the desert, buried alive beneath layers of red clay, all essential moisture in the body of Juan Rodrigues had been sucked out by the baking clay, he became mummified, and over time turned to dust. Professor Svensen then fished into his vest pocket and held his open palm out. "I found this beneath the dust of Juan Rodrigues", he said. It was a crudely minted golden coin. A Spanish doubloon dated 1528, minted in ancient Mexico from Aztec gold sometime shortly after the Spanish conquest of mesoamerica. "I suppose," the professor said wearily, "I will die one day with this in my pocket, as did Juan Rodrigues so many years ago."