Last week I wrote Part One of a story I hope you found to be enjoyable. I promised to write the second part this week, but other inspiration in light of COVID-19 has come to my mind.
When I was a young boy, my father was friends with Earn Hendrix, a blind gentleman who lived with his elderly mother on Dotson Creek, very close to my Great-Aunt Minnie and Uncle Jim Yadon. Aunt Minnie was sister to my grandfather Charlie Sampson.
I don’t remember much about Mr. Hendrix, but he stands in my mind as a fascinating gentleman. I heard from either Mother or Dad that Mr. Hendrix was able to see until he was an older child when he was accidentally hit in the head with a rock. This caused him to become blind for the rest of his life. Even so, Mr. Hendrix could do wonderful things such as patching his own roof when it leaked. Dad would take him to the store occasionally, and Dad was fascinated that Mr. Hendrix could tell the differences between denominations of paper money. It seems that Mr. Hendrix took classes to help him adjust to the world he could no longer see.
Mr. Hendrix was a hero to me for two entirely different reasons. First, he was the man who gave my dad a part-beagle, part-bulldog named Brownie. Brownie became my constant friend during my elementary school years. I don’t remember exactly when we got Brownie, but I remember that he died about the time I was in eighth grade. Brownie was a great help to me as I grew up, and oh how I wish he could have lived longer and been there for me to lean on during the more difficult high school years.
The other reason that Mr. Hendrix was a hero to me was that he once sent me a record that someone had given him. It contained stories by a comedian named Cotton Ivy. Should you do a Google search, you will find a Wikipedia entry [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cotton_Ivy (accessed March 30, 2020)] identifying him as Lamarse Howard Ivy, Democratic member of the Tennessee House of Representatives from Decaturville from 1985 to 1989. After that, from 1989 through 1995, Ivy served as Tennessee’s Commissioner of Agriculture.
You can also access some clips of Cotton Ivy on YouTube. In one of those clips Ivy states that he was once a schoolteacher. The clips also relate that he was a renowned as a teller of coon tales. Ivy appeared on a 1984 episode of Hee Haw [Season 17, Episode 8 (http://www.tv.com/shows/hee-haw/dottie-west-hoyt-axton-cotton-ivy-11915…) Retrieved March 30, 2020].
The record that Mr. Hendrix gave me was titled, “Cotton Ivy: The New Will Rogers?” The care everyone is presently taking to remain as germ free as possible in face of COVID-19 reminded me of a story that Ivy told on that record. I will relate it to you from memory as best I can.
It seems a “city-slicker” found himself at a farm. I don’t recall the reason why—perhaps he was campaigning for higher office, maybe trying to get involved in coon hunting. He observed that the farmer was chewing “backer” (tobacco to the city-slicker). Spit was running equally from both corners of the farmer’s mouth, a sure sign, according to Ivy, that the farmer was “level-headed”.
In the course of their visit, the farmer offered “Slick” a drink of cool water from a dipper. Slick did not want to be rude and deny the farmer’s kind offer, but he also didn’t want to put his mouth on the dipper where the farmer had put his. Slick reasoned that if the farmer were left-handed, he would have held the dipper just-so and would have touched his lips to one side. However, if the farmer were right-handed, he would have put his lips on the other side.
Slick even reasoned that in a moment of extreme thirst, the farmer might have held the dipper from both sides and have drunk from the end opposite the handle.
Slick decided to put the handle of the dipper in his mouth and let what water would run down the handle into his mouth. At this, the farmer began to jump up and down and laugh and holler. He said it was the “dangdest” thing he’d ever seen. After all these years, he finally had met somebody that drunk (sic) out of a dipper just like he did!
It’s been some time since I heard that story. I know when I replay it that I will be shocked at how I mis-remembered the finer details. It would be worth looking up the record mentioned above and trying, if possible, to obtain a copy for yourself. I found one other Cotton Ivy record, but I have not taken the opportunity to play it yet. These records stand as testimony of one of Tennessee’s finest storytelling legacies.
Next week I’ll hopefully return to take up the story I started last week, that is, unless inspiration moves in another direction. Until then, take care, Faithful Readers, as I leave you with this tidbit from my world of email.
A vulture boards an airplane carrying two dead raccoons.
The stewardess looks at him and says,
“I’m sorry, sir! Only one carrion allowed per passenger.”