Terry Dickson has been working on his john boat to get it running before the trout stop biting and had no time to write a column. Once that is complete, he has to dig out the tires on his boat trailer that have settled six inches into the ground. We offer instead a timely column from Bubba Gene Hightower, mayor of Pond Scoggin, Ga.
Dear Mr. Dickerson,
I hope this finds you and yours fine and otherwise dandy and recovered from Thanksgiving festivities. As for me and Guynell and Bubba Guy, that’s our onliest boy, we are doing fine having got us some rest from Thanksgiving and the spendin’ madness that followed.
It commenced Thanksgiving morning when Guynell was a little low on ingredients for the dinner and she sent me off to find some sage for the dressing, a big can of cranberry sauce and some other stuff. We wouldn’t have needed the cranberry sauce, but her sister come to dinner and brought some of her favorite dishes. Mr. Dickerson, you wouldn’t think macaroni and cheese would be improved by cranberry sauce but hern shore was.
Anyways, the grocery store bore a considerable resemblance to Mothers Day and Valentines Day when they ain’t nobody hardly there but panicked men looking last minute for flowers and cards. T’weren’t like that Thanksgiving because they was men wanderin’ aisles with lists looking lost and you know us men won’t ask for directions even in a grocery store.
Anyways, I thought my duty for the holiday was done except for eatin’, but I was mighty wrong. When we turnt in for the night, Guynell told me to set the alarm for 4 which I had done already because I wanted to be in the deer woods before sunrise. She said, “No you ain’t. You goin’ black Friday shopping with me in Jacksonville.”
Well, Mr. Dickerson, I’d ruther take a beatin’ but she had her mind set so we seen the sun rise on U.S. 1 and hit a bunch ‘a big ole’ stores south of town. Now it tweren’t so hard for me except now and then I had to say, “Yes ma’am. That is mighty cute.” But I did see some curious clothes, mostly women walking around wearing dresses and sweaters with the shoulders cut out like it they was a world war on and fabric was runnin’ short. Guynell said that was the cold shoulders look and the latest fashion and I said them stripedy bell bottom britches men wore in the 70s made more sense.
Anyways, at the first store we carried a couple of armloads of clothes up the cash register where a feller with long hair on one side and none on t’other told us we owed $173 and some odd cents. I started countin’ out 20s and Guynell turnt beet red and whispered, “Bubba Gene. We ain’t in Pond Scoggin at the hardware store. These people is sophisticated. You got to pay with a card.”
So I pulled out my First Bank of Pond Scoggin debit card but that little old card reader was different from the one back home so I didn’t know whether to swipe or go blind. Anyways, before the day was out, we had wore all the writin’ offen that card and it had run hot twice. It wore so thin I’m savin’ it to look at the next solar eclipse.
Good thing I had a camper shell on my pickup because we filled that thing slap up with Guynell’s purchases and it had rained bad all day. I was also glad I had air shocks otherwise the trailer hitch would have been sparkin’ on the black top.
Anyways, the shoppins over for the year at least for me and I was back in the woods Saturday morning albeit considerable tired. I had about dozed off in my deer stand when a big buck walked up, but I didn’t have the heart to do nothing but count off the 12 points on his antlers and admire him standing proud in a fire break. I finally just climbed down and went home and took a nap in the recliner.
Y’all come see us Mr. Dickerson. We’ll build a fire on a sandbar and drink some hard mayhaw cider which was produced by some of my cousins. It’s go goo you won’t knew whether to sip or go blind and you might do both.
Your obedient servant,