Poacher: CHAINS

The thing I find most annoying as I age is forgetfulness. Other things I can work around; such as arthritis and diminished general strengths. By the time I turned sixty-seven, I was ready for the day to retire and be relieved of the work-related stress.

Mark Slate, the boss’s son, and has a very humorous disposition; to say the least. He’s always doing something as a practical joke but doesn’t like having tricks played on him. I get a kick out of his jokes as long as they’re not on me. It has been a good while since he got me with some trick or another. What the heck; it’s my last day, so I don’t care if there’s a big trick waiting or not. I took my time getting ready for work.

The job wasn’t far from my home. I decided I would walk to work instead of driving. As I neared the office, I saw a wheelchair sitting out front by the office entrance. I thought, oh yeah, here it comes. I walked to the door and inside the lobby was the whole office staff yelling, “SURPRISE!” I acted surprised and went along with the celebration. Mark rolled the wheelchair behind me and insisted that I sit in it. I sat in the wheelchair and Mark pushed me to the elevator and my office on the twelfth floor.

It was the first and last day at work when I had nothing to do but to show up. I had wrapped all the retirement paperwork up by Thursday morning, and my replacement was already doing my job as Company Comptroller.

Across the intercom the receptionist called; “Joseph Heston, Come to the conference room.” I thought, all right, this must be the big trick, pie in the face or something such as that. I walked into the conference room where seated at the head of the long table sat Mr. Slate, the owner of Slate Supply Company. He invited me to relax and talk, and he thanked me for being a loyal employee for forty years of service. He gave me a check for six weeks vacation, my regular pay, and a Fifty Thousand Dollar Retirement Bonus.

He thanked me again and said, “I wish it were me retiring, Joe, but I’m looking at a few more years before handing the reins over to Mark.” I replied, “It’s been a privilege working here Mr. Slate, and I thank you so much. I loved my job, but I am looking forward to doing things I have dreamed of doing for many years. Moving out to the country, and living the slow life; just lollygagging around, fishing and such.” Mr. Slate replied, “Hush, Heston before I retire with you.” He laughed and said, “Take the rest of the day off if you wish, and the best of luck to you, Joe.” I thanked him, shook his hand again, he said, “Goodbye.”

At Sixty-Seven, I was retiring with a fat retirement check and my Social Security.

After Forty years, working for the same company, I was ready for a rest. Walking to the elevator, I saw Mark standing on a ladder doing something, a trick, no doubt. I had already cleaned out my office and had no reason to return. I slipped out a side door and walked home. My home was a lonely place since my wife, Ann, died from cancer a couple of years ago. I said aloud, “Well, Ann, I finally did it; I retired.” I drove to my bank and deposited the checks Mr. Slate had given me. The cute little woman at the teller window gave me a lollypop. Located next door to the bank is a real estate office.

I decided to see if they listed a place in the warmer climate of the south. I could not afford property in South Florida. North Florida or South Alabama would be perfect because of the short and mild winters. I sat at a computer and went through several pages listing secluded properties. In South Alabama, was a wooded area with a creek running through the middle of it. It was forty acres surrounded by timberland. It was in the middle of nowhere and precisely what I was after.

I own my house, so I listed it for sale in the Real Estate firm. I was willing to let it go for the appraised price, buy the forty acres in Alabama, and have a comfortable home built. This Real Estate Firm handles thousands of properties. One of their branch offices was one hundred miles from the property I was interested in buying. The real-estate woman called and made an appointment for me to meet with them.

I planned to drive to South Alabama, just lollygagging, taking three or four days to get there. I wanted quietness, solitary, and a slower paced life. I know that Alabama has everything that any other state has, but I was after solitude, peacefulness, and no nearby neighbors. It was a dream of Ann’s and mine.

I planned to get a dog, not a sissy little house dog; but a big hound dog with a long tail. I also wanted a couple of cats. Later on, I planned to have chickens. I had a hard time going to sleep that night because of putting my house on the market and bidding on the Alabama property. However, that is exactly what Ann and I had planned on doing whenever I retired. We wished to move out of the crime-infested area and into a quiet countryside somewhere in the Deep South where the winters are mild and short. She wanted a yard in which to plant flowers and vegetables. I wanted her to have what she wanted.

Friday night passed slowly with nothing going on except the silence of the lonely house. I decided I would call the few friends I had and tell them the news. Saturday we had a cookout and a farewell party to celebrate my retirement and my new plans to move. Ann and I had accumulated many friends while living in New York but so many had died or else moved to Florida that now there were only a few. We had fun, and they tried to change my mind to stay in New York.

My Grandparents were from South Alabama, and I loved to visit them when I was a child.

Finally, on Monday morning, I loaded the car with snacks, clothes, and a cooler with soft drinks and sandwich stuff. I began my journey and had a feeling of relief as I rolled down the interstate highway. Monday night, I stayed in a hotel and started out early Tuesday. The further south I traveled, the greener the roadsides became. I was sick of the lingering cold weather and ready for a warm spring. The next night I spent in Birmingham. I was in no great hurry. Early Wednesday morning, I began on the last leg of my journey. By ten o’clock, I was in Montgomery at the Real-estate office.

I followed the agent down I-65. An hour and a half later, we turned onto a two-lane road and drove for another half hour. Turning onto a paved county road and then taking a right on a red dirt road. We traveled through the tall trees that were like a canopy over the road. I had to follow at a distance due to the dust from the agent’s car. Finally, we came to a white sand portion of the road that was. The dust subsided, and on a bit further, we took a right onto a lane with two white sand ruts and drove for what seemed to be a mile. We crossed an old wooden bridge and stopped.

The real-estate agent said, “Well, what do you think?” I replied, “What do I think about what?” He said, “We are here, this is the property you are interested in buying.” There was nothing but trees and about twenty acres of pastureland and a long driveway. While parked underneath a big oak tree, I signed the papers and wrote a check for Forty acres of land. With the boundaries of the property marked with flags, there should be no problem understanding the landlines. I thanked the man for him and his company’s help, and he left. Oh, how silent it was. A crow squawked, and that was about all the sound there was until a breeze rustled through the trees. I sat there all day and spent the night in the car. It was pleasant, tranquil, and most pleasingly, there were no people anywhere around. That day and night slowed me down and soothed my nerves.

The following morning, I decided to venture out and see the countryside. Taking a roll of red ribbon used to mark the boundaries; I stopped at every turn and tied two pieces to the tree limbs. At the highway, I tied two long pieces to a tree limb and two on the stop sign. I remembered that we had turned right onto the dirt road, so I took a left. Near the two-lane State Highway sat an old white church house named Antioch. At the intersection of the county and state road, I tied two long ribbons. Since we had traveled south and turned right onto the county road, I took a right and was now in unfamiliar territory. Down the road near a half mile was a store with one gas pump. I stopped and walked inside. Three sixty-watt light bulbs and the open front door lighted the whole country store. The aisles were dimly lit, with a limited variety of groceries. It carried the basics; cornmeal, flour, salt, canned tomatoes, jack mackerel, potatoes by the pound, and two shelves full of macaroni and cheese and rice, beans, peas, etc..

Also, there were regular vendor items, bread, potato chips, cookies, candy and so on. The woman who ran the store was watching TV and talking on the phone. I picked up a few items, and when I was ready to check out, with an armload of things, I ask her for a bag of ice. Sure enough, she had Ice, but it was outside in an ice box next to the building. I paid her for the items, carried them to the car, and then walked back to the Ice freezer. A big red rooster kept his eye on me. Just as I opened the door, a small chicken jumped all over me pecking and clawing my back and my arms as I tried fighting her off. I dropped the ice and ran inside the store. I said, “Ma’am, there’s a wild chicken out there, and it about ate me up!” She replied, “Just a minute sir.” She walked around the counter, looked through the window, and then scooped a plastic bowl in a chicken feed sack. She said, “Oh, that’s only Lucy, and she’s gotbiddies. Those Game hens are very protective of their young. Come on with me, and I will show you how to handle her.” She took a handful of feed and threw it out away from the Icebox.

The hen and biddies went to where she threw the feed. She opened the freezer door and pulled out another bag of Ice. I put the ice in the cooler and started to go. She called out for me to follow her inside for some first aid. Apologizing repeatedly, she wet a cloth with alcohol and dabbed it on every scratch and peck mark. I thanked her for the bandages, and she apologized yet again for the incident.

“See you later,” I said as walking outside. It was the word “Later” that started a question and answer session with Debra asking the questions.

She introduced herself as Debra Lee. Twenty minutes later, Debra knew my whole name, age, employment history, exactly where I lived, that I was a widower, and my immediate plans for the future. If her phone had not rung, she would have known more. I covered the soft drinks and sandwich meat in the cooler with ice. After my ordeal with the chicken, and my newfound knowledge of chickens, I learned to watch out for hens with biddies. I was about to pull onto the roadway when a log truck came by about seventy miles per hour or maybe faster. From that heart-pounding moment, I added watching for log trucks to my new found knowledge list, as well and was careful to look twice before pulling onto the narrow country roads.

I decided to see some more of the area. After driving approximately thirty miles, I discovered a good-sized town named Dardenville. There were chain stores, car lots, and plenty of fast-food places. I spotted Camper Sales with many styles of campers, stopped, and toured the camper selection. The used car lots had a couple of nice pickup trucks at a reasonable price but were not exactly what I was after. The Super Market was a welcome sight. I bought some pork chops and the fixings along with a small grill and some charcoal.

I felt no hurry to leave town, so I rode the Main Street checking out the restaurants and different businesses. What appeared to be the center of business’s was the bypass. The Courthouse and lawyer offices are in the Downtown area. After my lengthy tour, I was ready to return to Ghost Hollow. It was not difficult finding my way back to Antioch. From the Antioch Community Store, it was easy to get to my new home place.

That night, after a belly full of pork chops, I planned to sleep in the car. I thought, tomorrow I will have a pop-up camper or something of the sort. It was a warm night, so I left the car windows down. I was lying in the passenger’s seat with it fully reclined. It was a little while after dark when the high-frequency sound of mosquito wings begun as the mosquitoes searched for a dinner of blood. Letting the windows up was not an option as it became too hot and stuffy to sleep. I decided to get a hotel room in Dardenville. An hour later, I was watching television in an air-conditioned room. Moving from a city with no grass in your yard, into a backwoods area where panthers roam and chickens attack you is a shock. The warm shower felt great in comparison to a bath in the cold creek. Soon, I was out like a light.

The morning came with me thinking of getting ready to go to my old job. I had many decisions to make. I made a priority list with obtaining the physical address of my property at the top.

Many things are needed while waiting until my house is completed, primarily, water and electricity. Perhaps Debra will allow me to use her address until I have an address of my own. With the hotel room paid up through Sunday, I left my suitcases in the closet and traveled back to Antioch Community Store. I was cautious and looked high and low for the little setting hen before walking away from my car.

Inside the store, Debra was on the phone. When she noticed me, she held up one finger and said goodbye to the other party. She said, “Good Morning Mr. Heston. How may I help you today?” I replied, “Ms. Debra, I am new to this area, as you know, and I need to know how to get a physical address for my property. I will need a physical address for getting my Alabama driver’s license and for mail, phone, and all those kinds of things.

Debra sympathized with my predicament and said, “Dardenville is the County Seat, you can get your driver’s licenses changed over to Alabama there. As far as for address, you are welcome to use the store’s mailbox. Just a minute, I’ll call my friend, Molly; she is a postal worker in Dardenville.” She called, and Molly advised me to use the store address until I could come in and fill out the necessary documentation.

Ms. Debra helped me out through the next couple of days. If she did not know the answer, she would call someone who did know.

After obtaining a legal address, I purchased an Alabama driver’s licenses. Now, I could go about my business with one less obstruction.

My last paid night at the hotel seemed more comfortable than ever. I sat and watched the television; most of which I could not hear because the volume was governed so not to be a disturbance to the other guest. Another reason I could not understand the words was because of the soundstage volume for the star, the super genius detective, was half the volume of the other characters. The musical soundtrack that accompanied the production was twice as loud as the rest. I’m sure it took many years of schooling to figure out the best way to sell hearing aids. On the other hand, maybe that is not the case at all, and I am just another old fart from the old school. Two or three hearing aid commercials later, by the looks on the genius detective’s face, he was super stressed-out. Although I could not understand what he said, I could hear everyone else. That is why I knew it was not bad hearing.

I turned the TV off and sat there thinking about the big move I made. I need a place of my very own instead of renting this room. I am in too big a hurry and seemingly getting nowhere fast. I need a solid plan. Dardenville is my best bet for acquiring immediate needs. I need to speak to someone about building my dream house. I need one contractor to be in charge of everything from below ground up.

I used my laptop computer while I had free hotel WI-FI. I looked at a few house plans, but whenever I saw the rustic log houses, I wanted one of those. I will also need to see the local deep-well man and have a deep-well put-down. I wrote the numbers down for a water well drilling company and the log house site.

The following morning I was on the road again. At Antioch Store, the only business in the area, there was a crowd gathered. The store business was flourishing. Debra was cutting a slice of cheese for a man with a single pack of soda crackers under one arm and an RC cola in his hand. The parking lot was full, and the inside crowded. I sat in a straight chair with plans of waiting until the rush was over to do my business there. That’s when Debra spied me and immediately put me to work. She kept me busy pumping gas for old women and carrying bags of ice and groceries to different cars and trucks. Before the crowd dwindled down, I was cutting cheese for people with them telling me the thickness they desired. Finally, the rush subsided, and I returned to the straight chair. Debra thanked me several times and gave me a piece of cheese and a coke.

Later, I took the real-estate paperwork and traveled to Dardenville. I applied for an electrical hookup. I gave the paperwork showing the location of my property to the man in charge of installation. I found that getting electricity is expensive. Poles and lines are necessary, and a right of way for access purchased.

I felt I had accomplished much by signing up for electricity and calling the deep-well company to get on their waiting list. I did not think about going through all of this before buying the land.

I called a friend in New York to see how everyone was doing and to let him know I was now the owner of forty acres of woods and pastureland in South Alabama. His name is Alfred, and he wasn’t feeling very well, so I didn’t speak to him for very long. I gave him the phone number for the store and Debra’s name for a contact. “If you need me, I said, leave a message with Debra, and I will call back when and where I can get a phone signal.” The towers are far apart out here.” He said he would call me in a couple of days if he began to feel better. Another friend in New York, Curtis, was glad to hear my voice. He talked for what seemed like an hour. I told him that I would return to New York in a week and check on the house and property. He said he had watched it and all was fine. I asked him to keep the newspapers picked up and keep my mail until I returned. Curt did not want me to move away, but he is not yet retired and has to remain in the deep freeze for four more years. I can sympathize with his having to work.

Beginning the second week of my great adventure, I had accomplished a couple of things. I decided to rent a room for another week at the hotel. With internet capabilities, I might make arrangements to buy a log house.

An hour later, I was in an air-conditioned room using my laptop computer to view the many different log house floor plans. I found a house floor plan of a simple three-bedroom-three bath, with large living room and kitchen. This bungalow model included a porch surrounding the house and a fireplace. However, the house company did not build the fireplaces. They also require a ready slab before construction. I was tired of the complications and inquired into the possibilities of one single contractor building from the ground up. Finally, I talked with the owner of the Log House Company, and he recommended a contractor from Dardenville, named Randy Wyatt. He will oversee the whole job from storm shelter basement to the tip-top. That afternoon Randy followed me to the property, and he flagged the roads with different colored ribbons.

The next morning I received a call from the real-estate company in New York, which alerted me to a potential buyer of my house and property. I called the Contractor, Randy, and told him of the sale. I drove over to his office and gave him a check for twenty thousand dollars as the first draw. I checked out of the hotel and proceeded to Antioch Community, to inform Debra of my plans and to request she keep my mail and messages until I returned from New York. After getting the oil changed, I proceeded to New York in my car. It felt good to be on the road again.

Near the Tennessee line, I stopped and bought gas and ran it through the carwash. It looked much better with the red dust washed away.

On the third day, I arrived at my house in New York at nine thirty AM… It was no different from when I left. I called my good friend, Curtis, to let him know that I was home in New York. He and his wife, Gayle, came over and we had coffee. They were full of questions. Curtis and Gayle were glad I was at home and doing well. Another friend of ours died, and our little friend group was again smaller than ever. I cherish the friends I have. Gayle called a couple of widow friends over, and I called Alfred. Alfred and Lois came by, and we all heard of Alfred’s newest ailments and the dire future he expected to go through. After he was through and we all comforted him, he brightened up a bit, and everyone wanted to hear about my property in South Alabama. I proceeded to show them pictures of the property.

Around four o’clock I was feeling fatigued, and after everyone left, I went to sleep. The following morning, I called the real-estate company, and they announced that the house had sold and I had thirty days to get my things out. The buyers agreed to the original price, and they were excited and anxious to move in. I went to the real-estate office and signed the necessary paperwork. The agent referred me to a moving and storage company that handles everything from teaspoons to bed pillows. They will wrap and bundle, and move it anywhere in the continental US… They will deliver and set the furniture up in my new dwelling whenever I wish. It sounded almost too good to be true. I arranged to meet the moving company representative for their services.

That afternoon, the moving and storage representative came to my house and inventoried the household items. He instructed me to clean out the refrigerator, and freezer. I called my dearest friends over, and the women took Ann’s clothes. I had left Ann’s things exactly where they were when she died. I removed her jewelry case, placing it in a box along with her hairbrushes. I smelled her housecoat one final time before relinquishing it with her other things.

By the next morning, I was ready for the movers and ready to return to my new home place in South Alabama. I invited everyone out to eat at a not so fancy restaurant and expressed my gratitude for his or her loyal confidence and invited everyone to come and visit me at Antioch. I said, “I will call when I move into my new house.” I called Debra, at the store, and told her I would be coming home in a couple of days. That’s when it dawned on me that my home was now in South Alabama, more specifically, Route one, Antioch Community. I am longer a New Yorker.

I could not go to sleep, so I decided to get on the superhighway and travel south. When I began getting sleepy, I stopped and rented a room. The following day and the next were more of the same. I started to liven up when I was south of Montgomery. I would be home within an hour. I stopped at an exit for a bottle of water.

When I exited the car, it was like stepping into an oven. Oh, my goodness, I thought; it must be over a hundred degrees. After getting a bottle of water, I walked quickly back to the car, and it felt as if it was two hundred degrees until I cranked it and let down a window. Soon the Air Conditioner conquered the heat, and I was on the last leg of my journey.

Finally, I rolled up to the Antioch Community store. I parked in the shade of a chinaberry tree. I immediately looked for the little game setting hen. The store was busy, and I could hear the customers talking and laughing inside. The old rusty screen doors were popping as they opened and closed. I stepped through the door, and immediately a couple of kids started crying and pulling at their mothers dress because they wanted a fudge-sickle. She popped the loudest one on its butt, and they quieted down quickly. An old man, who apparently had Parkinson’s disease, cut his finger trying to open a can of potted meat. Debra was busy and asked me to hand Mr. Lee, (the shaky old man,) a paper towel for his cut finger and a band-aid.

There was a line of folks there for the dinner hour. Debra had some picnic tables sitting outside under some trees. Many of the customers sat at the picnic tables and ate their lunch. I washed my hands and offered to cut cheese if anyone wanted cheese and crackers. I went right to work and probably sliced ten pieces of cheese and twenty pieces of bologna. As the line moved toward the cash register, each customer wanting a slice of cheese would motion with their fingers as to how thick the piece they wanted. Cheese and bologna on plain bread were the most popular. By twelve-thirty, with everyone served and sat outside eating, Debra said, “Whew, what a busy half hour. I’m sure glad you came when you did.”

The old man, probably ninety years old, said in a shaky voice, “Say, are you the man that bought the old Ghost Holler Place?” I looked at Debra, and she nodded “yes.” I replied, “Yes-sir, I bought it; forty acres of it anyway.” The old man, Mr. Lee, said, “Now I don’t want to get you all perturbed, but seems like everyone that bought that land sold it within a few years. They claim to hear screams from the woods. I know what it is though; it’s a cougar. You know them Panthers make screams sort of like a woman. They’ll make the hair stand up on the back of your neck. I know, because I’ve heard them scream out several times.” I remember one time about twenty years ago I was coon hunting down there and heard what sounded like a half dozen of them screaming at one time.” I ask Mr. Lee where he lived, and he pointed out to the rear of the store and said, “Right back there in the blue camper. I have lived in this community for going on ninety-six years.”

I introduced myself, and he said, “Well, it’s a real pleasure meeting you, Joe. Yeah, anytime you need me, I live right back there. Any time you wish to talk just come on. Debra came over with a small coke and a piece of cheese. As she handed it to me, she said, “I have an open camper if you’re interested in renting it.” I replied, “I might be interested in that. I will look when I have a chance.” The store was beginning to fill up again, and I wanted to see how far along they are on the slab. I said, “I’ll be back in a little bit.” I walked out and let my car windows down so it could cool down to two or three hundred. I’m exaggerating but not by much. It wasn’t this hot last week I thought to myself. I will have to have air conditioning to sleep. Heck, I’ll have to have air conditioning to stay alive in this heat. The humidity has so much to do with how hot it feels. It’s steamy even in the shade. I felt sorry for the men supposed to be pouring the foundation of my new house.

I cranked the car and had the AC running to cool it off, as it sat running with the air conditioner on wide open, I thought I would look at the empty campers located behind the store. There were four campers with electricity hookups to each. Each one was small and smelled like sweat and rotten wood. I returned inside the store and asked Debra if she had or knew of an empty lot for rent. She did not have space available but said there is a hunting camp a half mile past my long driveway, and she would try to find out who managed the hunting club. I drove to the house site, and there were some scrape marks with red dirt smoothed flat.

The patch of disturbed dirt measured approximately twenty by sixty feet in length. It was highly visible being in contrast with the dark green grass of the pasture. I thought, Well, dang it; this may take a while. I’ve was away for a week, and nothing has happened. Someone scraped a spot, and that was all. I was a bit upset, but I also knew the nature of the good-hearted people of the community and that I could get my butt whipped if I were to be very aggressive. I took out my phone, and of course, I had no signal. I sat there for a few minutes underneath the huge oak tree and thought about what Mr. Lee had called the place; Ghost Holler. I thought, the name must be Ghost Hollow, although he says, Holler. It’s probably his dialect; the reason he says, Holler.

I drove to Dardenville, called Randy Wyatt, the contractor, to find out what was going on. He informed me that there were some unexpected problems with getting the electricity ran to the place. He said, “I guess you noticed the septic tank and lines had been put in.” I replied, “Oh that’s why the red dirt is showing.” He chuckled saying, “Yeah, the deep well driller is on hold until we get the electricity installed.” I said, “Well, I guess it’s a waiting game, for now, right?” Randy replied, “How about meeting me at the site tomorrow morning around seven o’clock; I’d like to see exactly where you wish to have your house built.” I answered, “Okay, Randy, I’ll see you then.” Thinking about it, I realized that I had not decided where I wanted the house and yard to be. That was a critical oversight. Of course, the man could not start with the footings and the slab. Heck, he didn’t know where to put it. I was glad I called Randy, and now I knew it would be a while before any progress on my house would begin.

I decided I would go by the RV and Camper lot and see if I might rent a camper for a few months. Heck, it might be a year before the house is ready to move into; who knows? I pulled into the Dardenville RV, and Camper Sales lot and a sales representative ran out to greet me. Suddenly I saw a shade where I could park my car. The sales representative changed his direction and finally made it to where I parked. He said with a big smiling face, “How might I be of service to you sir? As you can see, we have a large assortment of new and used trailers and campers. Also, we have some Recreational Vehicles there at the end of the lot.” I got out, and when I stood in the sun, the top of my head started to burn. I put my hand on the top of my head, and the sales representative said, “I’ll get you a cap to wear, it looks to me like you may be getting thin up top, like me.” He laughed, and I laughed, and he proceeded to the little office and returned with a new ball cap with “Dardenville RV and Campers,” in big print across the front. It did the job because the top of my head no longer felt on fire.

He introduced himself as Larry Lowery, and I give him my name. He noticed that I had a northern accent and asked where I lived. I replied, “Antioch Community.” He looked surprised and didn’t ask any more questions concerning my home. I explained to Larry that I only needed a camper for a little while and then I would have absolutely no use for it. I wanted a used one. If he didn’t have a used one for sale, I was not interested. I wasn’t interested in going through every hot camper on the lot. I also was not planning to buy an RV that cost as much or more than the house I was trying to have built. With this understood, we began looking at the lesser priced used campers. After looking at ten or fifteen more, I saw an old RV sitting on the very back of the lot.

From a distance, it looked like a rusty old piece of crap. The windshield covered with green mold and apparently, the outside never cleaned. I asked Larry about looking inside the old ugly one. He hesitated for a moment, looking back at the office. He said, “Mr. Heston, I don’t think you would want that one. We bought it from the impound lot. It was taken there after finding a dead man in it at a rest area on the interstate.” I asked, “Did he rot in it or something?” He replied, “No, they found him right away and took him away.” I said, “Well, what is wrong with it; other than being so filthy?” He replied, “It has a couple of flat tires, and the bumper’s hanging off the front. Other than that, who knows?” It just gives me the heebie-jeebies. I said, “Heck, let’s look inside of it.” He replied, “You can go in there if you wish, but I’m staying out here.” I looked through the RV, and it was clean and neat. It had been taken care of; at least on the inside. I said, “Larry, How much are you asking for this old RV?”

He shook his head and said, “I don’t know, I’ll have to check with my boss.” He walked away and later came back saying, “Is a thousand dollars too much for you?” I replied, “I’ll give you seven fifty if you deliver it to Antioch Store Community.” Larry replied, “Uh, uh, let me see. I’ll be right back.” After a while, Larry started out the door of the office and apparently, his boss called him back inside. In a bit, he returned and said, “Clift, I mean, Mr. Andrews, said that he would accept Seven Fifty, but it will cost extra to have it delivered to Antioch Community.” I said, “Fine, Let’s sign the papers.” I gave Mr. Andrews a check for Nine Hundred Fifty dollars, and he promised to have it delivered after the check cleared, in three days. He would call me when they started out.

At the hotel, I called the power company, and they informed me that it would cost ten thousand dollars at the very least, to buy the right of way for the power lines to my property. I told the woman I would call her back after I checked into the cost of solar power. I discovered the exact definition of aggravation briefly. The whole situation was, danged if I did and danged if I didn’t. I had to think about the whole thing rationally and decide which way to proceed. For ten thousand dollars, I could buy enough solar panels and the hookup kit, along with installation, to furnish the house with electricity, especially so, if I had propane for the stove and water heater. That would be another five hundred dollars.

It costs the heck out of me to live at Ghost Hollow, but that is where I plan to live, come hell or high water. I searched the web and found three different solar power companies. I ordered the deluxe model along with batteries and top of the line converters.

I called Randy to let him know of my plans. He suggested that I build a pole barn and place the panels atop of it. I agreed, and he promised to have it finished before the solar panel installation crew arrived. I then relaxed and purposely avoided thinking about the land, house, or RV. For the first time in over a month, I felt very relaxed. I went out for supper and had a great meal.

I awoke early and exited through the lobby. Grabbing two donuts and a cup of coffee, I hurried to Ghost Hollow. Randy wasn’t there yet. He said he would meet me there at seven or seven thirty. Soon he arrived, and we wasted no time with idle chitchat. Randy suggested where I should put the house and the pole barn. He agreed that the pole barn should be tall enough for the RV. I agreed with everything. Randy called on his cell phone for the crew to report to my place. He ordered the necessary materials for the pole barn and the forming materials for the slab. He arranged to meet them all at the Antioch Store so they could follow him through the maze of winding dirt roads to the work site. If someone isn’t familiar with the area, they could drive on the dirt roads for hours.

I rode with Randy to the store. I said, “How is it that your phone picks up out here and mine doesn’t?” He referred me to his provider.

By Nine O’clock the crew and all of the material was on the site. A large backhoe and a regular tractor with a big post-hole auger came with the equipment. I was amazed at how fast Randy’s crew constructed the barn. The framework was up by lunch. With a transit level and a man holding the pole, they quickly laid out the depth for the footing of the house and using the backhoe it was finished within three hours. By that afternoon, they were putting the decking on the roof while it was so hot; I thought I was going to have a heat stroke while sitting underneath the shade tree. The men worked right through the heat, never slacking up except to get water now and then.

I returned to the hotel, showered and fell asleep. Mr. Anderson of Dardenville Camper and RV sales awoke me. My check had already cleared, and he hired a wrecker to deliver the old RV. I promised to meet him at Antioch Store to show him the way to my place. I left out again in a hurry and came up behind the RV hooked to a wrecker a few miles north of town. I quickly passed the weaker being afraid something might come loose from the old RV. Around five thirty, the wrecker arrived at the store. I motioned for him to follow me. By six fifteen, the wrecker driver had backed the RV underneath the pole barn and roared away.

I returned to the hotel, showered and fell into a deep sleep. Seeing something accomplished at the house site, I felt better.

The next morning was Saturday, and I went to the Dardenville Super Center to get a new phone with the provider that Randy used. I soon walked out with a phone. It was a different number, but I didn’t care as long as it would work in Ghost Hollow. The rest of the day, I spent at Antioch. I helped Debra through the rush times. I learned more about her along with the fact she was a widow. Her husband died five years earlier. She said she could not sit around and do nothing, so she ran the old store belonging to her father in law. Her only son died in an auto accident when he was sixteen. She has no other kinfolks except Mr. Lee, her father in law. Debra, so I figured, was in her fifties. I wouldn’t ask because it would be impolite. I invited her to come and see my new home place when she had time. She promised she would ride and see it whenever she had some spare time.

I like her because of her spunk. I would like to ask her out to supper at some time. However, that will evolve eventually, and I feel no rush for any sort of relationship other than what we have now. Heck, I have never been with another woman other than Ann. We married at a young age, and she could not have children. I never cheated on her and seldom ever looked at another with a lustful thought. But, let’s face it, some women in bikinis are hard to ignore.

I would like to have someone to take out to dinner, or just to sit with on the porch. I need friends and acquaintances to talk with and to share memories. I need to find friends as I go along and it will improve the quality of my life in the Antioch Community. I talked with Mr. Lee and listened to several stories of the old, old, times. He spoke of my Grandparents but didn’t know them well.

I felt better living in the area where someone knew my kinfolks. Debra heard him say that he knew of them. Therefore, now I’m a bonafide resident with family roots from this area. Now, I’m an old southern boy. I need to work on losing my northern drawl. It will help me fit in better. First one and then another came in the store, and a couple remembered my name. Hunting is the favorite conversation topic I soon learned. I expressed the fact that I did my meat-hunting and farming at the big grocery store in Dardenville. That got a laugh from everyone. By the end of the day, I felt like a member of the community family. I returned to the hotel and hoped it would not be long until I was sleeping in my new house in Ghost Hollow.

I want a dog whenever I have a place to keep one. All of my life I wished for a dog, not a sissy little lap dog, but a big hound dog. I will look at the pound first. Maybe I can rescue one from death row. I’ll need a couple of cats also. I love animals. That’s why I don’t want a cow or a hog. I’m never going to eat a pet of any sort. I studied what I would need for keeping a dog. I’ll need a dog house, dog food, a collar, and a name for it. That’s about it. Then I thought about how I might transport a dog. I need an old farm truck. It doesn’t have to look good, just run good and have mud grips because of living at the end of a dirt road. I had not been in my driveway when it rained, but I’m sure a truck would be best for going in and out during rainy weather. I noticed how people let their dogs ride in the back of pickup trucks. I want to do the same.

Monday, I stopped at used car dealerships and looked for a pickup truck. They didn’t have the sort of pickup I wanted. As I left Dardenville, I happened to glance to the left as I passed a mechanic shop and saw a “For Sale” sign on a truck. It was an old four-wheel drive Dodge truck. I turned around and stopped by to see how much they were asking for it. The mechanic said he would take twelve hundred dollars for it. “It drinks the gas,” he said. It sat high above the ground, and it was loud. I asked, “How much would you charge to put a muffler on it?” He laughed and said, “Well, It’ll need two mufflers and tailpipes. The previous owner put a set of headers on it and left it that way.” It showed a thirty-five-pound oil pressure that the mechanic said was good for an old truck. He said, “I’m sure you will only use it locally?” I replied “From the home place to the store now and then. He said, “This will do well for no more than you will be driving it.” I bought it and left it for the mechanic to put mufflers on it. He said, “Come back in a couple of days, and I should have it quieted down for you.”

I drove out to Debra’s Store and sat around. I called to set up an installation date for the solar hookup. It would be in August, which was two weeks away. I could not expect to get what I wish for when I want it. That would be too good to be true. It will be two more weeks of living at the hotel. I cannot sleep in the July heat without air conditioning.

Randy called and said the log house company scheduled the start of construction for near the end of August and I could expect to move in by October. At least I had an idea now of how long it would be before I would have a log house with running water and electricity on the forty-acre plot named by the locals as Ghost Holler. I thought to myself; this has been one heck of an adventure so far. I stayed at the hotel for the next two days and called old friends in New York, talking for an hour at the time. Watching TV was the most entertaining. Once the hotel clerk asked me if I wished for a “Lady of the evening” I replied, “No, I do not, but thank you for asking.” He said, “Just give the word, and she’ll knock on your door.” I replied, “Reckon she will do laundry?” He slapped his leg laughing. I laughed at him laughing and then I took my ice back to the room.

The day had come for me to pick up my pick-up truck. I was as excited as a sixteen-year-old would be. It would be the first truck I ever owned. At the mechanic shop, I found the pickup ready to go. The mufflers and the labor cost three hundred fifty dollars.

I asked the mechanic if he had anyone that could deliver the truck to the Antioch Community. He thought for a minute and said, “My son will deliver it for twenty dollars.” I gave him a fifty-dollar bill and said, “Fine, tell him to put thirty dollars worth of gas in it and keep the remaining twenty.” He said his son would meet me at the Antioch Community Store. He would call him at home and have him come and pick it up.

I called my insurance company and added liability insurance for the truck to my account. By that time, the young man with earrings and an orange Mohawk haircut walked over and crawled into the driver’s seat. I was surprised to see this in Alabama. The mechanic, Bill, laughed and said, “Do you remember when men started growing their hair out long?” I replied, “Yes, I certainly do. I don’t want my hair to be long or orange, but it doesn’t bother me. I figure since I don’t pay their bills, I don’t care how they dress or wear their hair. Some of the nicest people I have ever met had long hair. Heck, I don’t pay it any mind anymore.” The mechanic laughed and said, “You know it brother, that’s what I’m saying.”

I took off to the Store and never saw the truck again. I sat there, waited for thirty minutes, and decided to call the mechanic shop. Bill, the mechanic, said, “Let me see what the hell is going on, and I’ll call you back, Joe.” Two minutes later, he called and said that Junior was now on his way. Around a half hour later, Junior pulled up, and I walked out to my car. Junior acted all excited and talked wide open. It suddenly occurred to me that he had probably stopped by a friend’s house and got high before driving the truck to the store. I said, “Just leave it here, and I will give you a ride back in my car.” Drugs sure make people believe they are smart. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise and don’t care. That’s why I had him leave the truck at the store. I didn’t want him to know where I lived. Junior did not put in thirty dollars worth of gas. He may have pumped in as much as ten dollars in the tank. I dropped him off at the mechanic shop and returned to the store.

I asked Debra if she would follow me home and let me drive them back. She replied, “I can do it right now.” I asked, “Are you going to close the store to do it?” She replied, “Sure, I close up when I need to run an errand. I leave a note saying I’ll be right back and if anyone needs something, they’ll wait until I return; or not! Hell, I just run the store to stay busy. Come on I’ll follow you.” I said, “Take my car, Debra,” as she walked toward her I drove the truck around here and there. I liked it. I said, “Debra whom might I 2000 Chevy Malibu. She said, “You ain’t left yet?” I darted over to my truck and took off heading toward my place. In the mirror, I noticed her back off a good bit. Yep, I thought, she’s a good, hardcore, South Alabama woman.

Soon we were there, and Debra seemed to be in no hurry. She asked where the house would be, and I showed her. Then she said, “Well if you’re ready, we’ll head on back toward the store.”

Her car was perfectly clean on the inside. She had John Conley playing on the CD player. When we arrived at the store, she said, “Don’t hesitate to ask me for help, Mr. Joe.” I said, “Debra, I don’t have a clue as to your age, but I feel that we’re close enough, age-wise, that you should call me Joe.” She replied, “In that case, Joe, you should call me Debbie; that’s what my friends call me. You are my friend aren’t you?” I replied, “I am that Debbie.” After she opened the store, we sat and talked until customers started coming in. She said, “Fifty Nine, Joe.” I said, “I’m sixty-Seven.” That was all we said about age.

As the first young woman walked through the door, she said, “Where were you, Ms. Debbie?” She replied, “I took Mr. Joe, there, to deliver his truck to his place; that’s all. The young black woman looked at me and then back at Debbie and smiled saying, “All right then, we were worried about you. We don’t want anything to happen to our Miss Debbie.” When she left out, Debbie said, “That’s the main reason I keep the store open, Joe; because I get to see so many friends every day. I am always here and ready to help when her no-account husband gambles away all the money, I help them out, and they know to depend on me. I’m owed a lot, but I don’t hassle anyone for payment, they’ll pay me one way or the other keep check on me and my whereabouts.” I’ve known everyone around here since most of them were kids. That’s another reason I keep the store running. So my family will drop by to see me.”

I replied, “I certainly understand, Debbie. It’s tough being alone and it’s even tougher being single way out here in the boonies.” Debbie said, “Yep, it’s tough alright.” I asked, “Would you care to go out to dinner with me some night, Debbie?” She replied, “Any night of the week you please, Joe.” I said, “How about tonight, Debbie?” She answered, “Kind of soon ain’t it, Joe?” I stammered with my words saying, “I well, ahh well I.” She laughed and said, “I don’t close until Seven, and then I will have to get ready and…” I cut in and said,” I’ll pick you up at eight. She grinned and said, “Okay, Eight it is.” With that settled, she was as happy as she could be. We had lengthy conversations throughout the afternoon.

At five o’clock, I decided to go to the hotel and get ready for my first date with Debbie. After I showered, I put deodorant under one arm, and my phone rang. I sat the deodorant down and neglected to smear some under the other arm. Dressed in my new pants and shirt, I was ready to go. It was as exciting as my first ever date. I stopped by Wall-mart and bought a John Conley CD. I realized that I had gotten ready two hours early. What do I do now? I sat in the hotel room, watched two Gunsmoke re-runs and drank two Cokes. When it was time to go, I drove straight to Debbie’s Store, and she was ready. Made up with lipstick, and new clothes, she was gorgeous. I complimented her saying, “My, you look lovely, Debbie.” Her cheeks flushed a bit, and she replied, “Well, you don’t look too bad yourself, Joe.”

I replied, “Debbie, I feel like a kid on his first date.” She said, “It will be fine as long as you don’t act like a kid on his first date.” We laughed and laughed.

I put the John Conley CD in, and we rode mostly silent all the way to Dardenville. As we passed the city limits, I noticed a catfish house. I said, “Care for some catfish?” Debbie replied, “No, too greasy.” On through town, I saw a Mexican Restaurant, and I said, “Care for some Mexican food?” Debbie replied, “No, too hot.” As we rode along, I asked, “Do you have any suggestions?” She replied, “How about the old Drive-Inn? I would like a hamburger and a chocolate milkshake.” I replied, “Are you sure?” She said, “Yep, it’s good, and it’s cheap.”

I drove into the Drive-in parking lot and pulled in a front row parking spot with young people sitting and standing everywhere. I started to get out, and Debbie said, “Wait! They will come to the car to take our order.” I replied, “Wow, this is like the old-timey Drive Inn’s!” Soon the skinny little girl, with makeup covering her pimples, came over to take our order. Debbie ordered a large hamburger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake and I ordered the very same. I said, “All we need now is some fifties and sixties music.” Debbie said, “Just a minute Mr. Man.” She turned the radio to an oldies station. The station played Tootie Fruity, then Woolly Bully, and one oldie after another.

It was fun watching the teenagers mingle, with all different color hair, trying to make wild impressions upon the others.

We quietly laughed at one of the little boys with his arms folded, trying to make his muscles look larger so to impress the peers. Another boy, with long bangs, kept jerking his head around making his hair flop. Then were the little teenyboppers, wearing too much makeup, and smoking cigarettes. It was a hoot. I told Debbie, I hadn’t had as much fun in years. When we finished our dinner, I took the wrappers and empty ketchup packages and put them on the tray, along with two dollars for a tip. Debbie was watching my every move. Once we were ready to go, Debbie said, “I had a wonderful time, Joe, but five o’clock comes early.” I replied, “Yes ma’am, it surely does.” We laughed about the young folks at the drive-in all the way home. She and I could relate to all of the peer pressure surrounding the Drive-Inn. The difficult decisions youngsters have to make while trying to impress others.

Forty-five minutes later, we were back at the store. I said, “Thank you, Debbie, I enjoyed tonight so much. We will have to do it again sometimes.” Debbie replied, “I had a good time also, Joe; It made me feel young again. If it were not so late, I’d invite you in for some coffee; But as I said earlier, five O’clock comes early.” I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her cheek, after which I said, “Does this mean we’re married now?”

She cackled out laughing saying, “Get your butt onto your place, Joe Heston, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I walked her to the side entrance door and saw her inside safely. I said, “See you tomorrow, gal, and good night.”