Words in a Jam

 July 28, 1965

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. You remember those blackberries I talked about picking last week. Well, they're in a jam now. (Ha. Ha.) Wes says I'm getting to be a regular comedian. I tell him that's only because I hang around with him so much. He laughs about that. Says a Jupiterian has to have a sense of humor if he's going to come check out things down here on Earth. He claims he had to take a humor test before he could get on the Jupiter spaceship to make sure he could laugh at the dumbest things. 

I guess he's meaning he runs into a lot of dumb things to laugh about down here. And boy, can he in Hollyhill. But anyway, I love making plays on words. Like those blackberries in a jam! After all, if I'm going to be a writer, I better know all about how to use words for whatever I want to use them for. Dad says that's real important in a newspaper story. That one word left out or in the wrong place can change the whole meaning of a piece in the paper and get us into trouble with readers. Like what if we were writing about a trial verdict and left out not and reported the defendant was found guilty when they were not guilty. Big time mistake. One we can't afford to make.

He says the same thing is true when he's preaching. That he needs to be even more careful with his words. He has to make sure the words he picks are the ones the Lord wants him to say. Words have power. For good. For fun. For entertainment. But they can also hurt. Who was it that said the pen is mightier than the sword? I'll have to look that up sometime. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to learn a new word every day. When I have time.

I didn't have much time last week with the berry picking and the jam making. Dad said I had to stay in the kitchen with Aunt Love to make sure she didn't wander off and forget she had jam on the stove. So I did and she did. Then I was in a JAM. I had to stir the stuff so it wouldn't boil over.

Did you know that stuff spits bubbles at you while it cooks? Hot bubbles. The stove had purple spots and so did my shirt, but I kept stirring until thank goodness, Aunt Love came back and said it was ready to put in the jars. We did have those ready and she let me fill them up. But she screwed on the lids. You should have heard the lids popping when they sealed. 

After she went out on the porch to cool off, I headed up to my room to finish another few pages of Bailey's Bug. Here it is. The whole story is on a link up at the top of this report. Whatever a link is. I think that must be one of those words from the future. Links are just part of a chain or how something connects, aren't they? But sometimes it's better to just not ask about those futuristic things.

Bailey's Bug by Jocie Brooke - Chapter 2

       Lucinda stopped washing her face when Bailey asked her if she wanted to go with him. “Go beyond the fence?” She stared at him, her green eyes wide and dark. “Have you lost what little mind you have?”

            Bailey held his head high. “I’m going to find Reid.”

            Lucinda’s lip stretched in a little smile. Then she began licking her paw again for another swipe across her face. “You can’t even find your bones if they scoot under a chair.”

            “I can find Reid.”

            “You don’t say. I didn’t know you were a bloodhound.” Lucinda sounded bored.

       Bailey held his head to the side and thought about that. “Maybe I am,” he said after a moment. “Mrs. Alexander used to say I must be a mix of a dozen dogs. One of them could have been a bloodhound.”

            “It could have been, but it wasn’t.” Lucinda swatted at him. “You’d best get this nonsense out of your head and learn to like it here.”

            “I am going to find Reid. And that’s that.” When Lucinda gave him that look, he told her about the hum inside his head. “That’s Reid calling me.”

            “Don't be silly. It’s just a bug that’s crawled in your ear.”

      Bailey almost lifted his foot to scratch his ear, but instead he pressed his foot hard against the floor and sat up as tall as he could. “So you won’t go with me?” 

     “I’m not going anywhere.” Lucinda moved to the edge of the window seat to stare down directly into Bailey’s eyes. “And neither are you. Heaven only knows, you’re a worrisome sort even for a dog, but I can’t be letting you go off who knows where. You have no idea what’s out there.”

          “You don't either.” Bailey met her eyes and didn’t back down.

          “But I do. I knew this cat once who told me all about it. Poor old Sanders.”

     “What did he tell you?” Bailey was curious in spite of himself.

          “Lots of things.” Lucinda’s green eyes narrowed on Bailey. “He said cars mashed poor animals like you and there were men who put dogs in cages. Worst of all, he said there are all sorts of cats and dogs out there who care nothing about the rules of civilization. If tough old Sanders had a hard time out beyond the fence, a dog like you wouldn't last an hour.”

            Bailey pulled his tongue all the way into his mouth and shut his jaws together tightly. He thought about the monster cars and strange dogs beyond the fence and a tremble ran through him. But the hum was still there, steady, unchanged by Lucinda’s fearsome words. So he said, “I’m going.”

            “What will you do if it storms? It will, you know. You won’t have any place to get in out of the rain, nowhere to hide from the thunder.”

            The tremble got stronger inside him. He did hate the way thunder banged against his ears. Just the thought of it was enough to make him look around for something to hide under.

    “Just as I thought.” Lucinda sat back. “You’re not going anywhere.”    

        Bailey’s ears drooped, and his tail dragged on the floor as he crept off to the bedroom where the cat couldn't see him. He got down on his belly and crawled under the bed, stirring up bits of dust that tickled his nose.            

That's all so far. Do you like Bailey? I do.

 

Have you ever picked blackberries over in the field?

July 21, 1965
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Holly County. Guess what I did last weekend? Right. Went blackberry picking on Miss Sally's farm. She thought it would be too late to find any, but they must have been waiting for the rain and so had to wait a little longer to get ripe. Miss Sally said she'd teach me how to make a blackberry pie. Aunt Love makes cobblers, but the pie sounds better. Besides, Aunt Love hasn't been doing so good. I need to find out how to make the pie so I can help Aunt Love not forget to put in the sugar or whatever makes the pie taste good. 

Did you ever go blackberry picking? I always get bit by chiggers when I go - even when I dab bleach around my ankles. Phew! Smells horrible but not quite a bad as coal oil. That's what Aunt Love says I should have used. But I guess a blackberry pie is worth getting a few itchy places. I'll paint clear nail polish over them. Zella says that smothers the chiggers. Of course, knowing Zella, she might just be telling me that so that I'll be spotted with nail polish.

I asked Wes to go with me, but he said earth blackberries were too wild. He says the berries up on Jupiter are so tame and so sweet that when they see you coming toward their bush with a bucket, the berries jump off the bush. So all you have to do is try to catch them in the bucket. Earth blackberry picking is a little harder than that. I'm always getting a briar stuck on my shirt. Sometimes in the front and back and then there I am, having to choose which side I want to get scratched. Then there are those snakes that are no problem at all imagining right under your feet. And once Miss Sally says Mr. Harvey spotted a snake slithering along on top of the vines. Now that would be really scary - if I was hunting for berries and saw snake eyes instead. Shiver! But that didn't happen. I just found blackberries and those chiggers. 

Have you ever been berry picking? What was the most exciting thing to ever happen to you while picking berries? I guess getting stuck is the most exciting thing to happen to me - if you can call that exciting.

I'm still writing my book, but I don't think many of you are interested in reading it. :( But for those of you who want to see what happens next to Bailey, I'm putting a couple more pages at the end here. That way whoever wants to read it can and the rest of you can talk about blackberry picking with me. I'll try not to scratch too much while you're here.

BAILEY'S BUG - (Check back the last two blogs for the beginning of the story.)

(Bailey just wanted to woof at Lucinda the cat because she keeps saying his boy, Reid isn't coming back.)

   After a long time he went to the door and plopped down on the rug Mrs. Robinson left there for him to wipe his paws when he came in from the backyard. He shut his eyes, but he didn't go to sleep. Instead he thought about the last time he'd been with Reid.
   There had been something different about his boys. His eyes had been all wet and he'd kept hugging Bailey and whispering into his fur things Bailey couldn't quite hear. Funny how Bailey had forgotten that until now.
   Bailey had licked Reid's face and danced aroudn him on stiff legs. That always made Reid laugh, and it had that day too. But it wasn't exactly his regular laugh. Still, he had through Bailey the red toy.
   When Bailey ran the thing down and had it trapped on the ground, Reidd said, "I you want the old thing, you keep it. You don't have to do any silly old tricks."
   Now Bailey got up and fetched the red thing. His teeth marks were all over it. When he lay back down on the rug with his head on the thing, it hummed under his ear.
   It had sometimes hummed like that when he captured it out in the yard only to look at Reid and know he wanted something more. Bailey would hold the think even tighter to keep it from making an escape until Reid yanked on it. Then Reid would send it flying through the air again. As bailey chase after it, he could hear his boy shouting something, but could never quite figure out what it was Reid said. Bailey knew he didn't do the trick right. Lucinda told him that. She said dogs never do anything right. 
    The hum got louder in his ears until it was vibrating through him everything. For some reason it made the bottom of his feet feel real itchy and his nose wanted to twitch.
    Bailey raised his head to look around Maybe Reid was calling him, but he couldn't hear Reid. But he did hear something. He dind't know exactly where it was coming from, but it was steady in hear ears like the sound of a distant siren.
    He got up and walked around the house to see if the hum was louder in one room or antoher, but it stayed the same. He considered waking Lucinda to see if she heard the hum too, but he didn't. Not only because she might scratch his nose if he woke her, but because this humming sound was his. He didn't want her to spoil it by saying he must have a flea in his ear.
    At the big front window, Bailey pressed his nose to the glass and perked up his ears to better hear the hum. All at once, it was almost as if he could see Reid out in the yard calling him. Bailey couldn't keep from jumping against the window and licking the glass. Reid was out there. He had to be.
   Mrs. Robinson yelled, "Bailey!" She grabbed his collar and jerked him back from the window. "You find more ways to mess things up. Now I'm going to have to wash the window."
   Bailey's eyes drooped, and his tail hid between his legs.
   "I don't know what I'm going to do with you." Mrs. Robinson shook her head at him.
   Bailey slunk back to his rug. Lucinda glared at him from the chair back, then jumped down to go rub Mrs. Robinson's legs.
   Bailey didn't want to upset Mrs. Robinson, but he couldn't remember her rules when Reid was calling him. And Reid was calling. He'd heard him. That's what made the hum inside his head.
   Across the room, Lucinda was glaring at him for making Mrs. Robinson cross. She settled on the window seat for yet another nap. But cross as she tried to act, Bailey knew she loved Reid too. Maybe she'd go with him to find Reid. That would be nice. Bailey laid his head down on his paws. The hum was softer now that he wasn't concentrating on hearing it, but it was still humming. 
   Bailey closed his eyes and went to sleep. In his dreams, he and Lucinda crossed grassy yards and parks until they found Reid. Reid laughed when he saw them, and Bailey jumped up and licked Reid's face.  Reid laughed and laughed. 
    Bailey wanted to hear Reid laugh again. He wanted to lick his boy's face again. If only he could figure out which way to go first.

Chiggers, Briars, Stink Bugs - the Price of Jam

Hollyhill, Kentucky
July 22, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Well, from Holly County anyway. We, Dad and Aunt Love and I, actually live outside the city limits. We don't live on a farm exactly, but there are farms all around us. Some of those farms have plenty of blackberry bushes on them and it's blackberry season. 
 
Do you like blackberries? I do. Lots, but I'm not all that crazy about picking them. But as Aunt Love is always telling me, an able bodied person who doesn't work shouldn't be wanting to eat. And I definitely want to eat. She says that's somewhere in the Bible too. So if Aunt Love hands me the picking bucket and tells me to go berry picking, I go berry picking. I do love blackberry jam on a hot biscuit with butter fresh churned by one of the women out at church. 
 
But even though I love that jam, picking berries is not all fun and games. Blackberries grown on briars. The best berries are always in the middle of the worst briars! Blackberries are bushy and there's no way to be absolutely certain a snake might not be lurking under those bushes. As if that's not bad enough, what about the spiders? There are always spiderwebs in the blackberries guarding the very best berries. Those big old spiders can have those berries. I'm not putting my hand anywhere close to them! And you have June bugs. I'm not afraid of June bugs, but their major whirring noise when you scare them away from a berry can give a girl a start. Sometimes there will be three or four June bugs on the same berry. It's like a helicopter starting up when they all take off together. 

But June bugs are better than stink bugs. When one of them gets on a berry, it's pretty much ruined for eating off the bush. Trouble is, you can't tell the stink bug has been there until you put the berry in your mouth. Big yuck! Then the only, the very only thing you can do after the stink bug taste is on your tongue is pop another blackberry into your mouth as quickly as possible. Of course, you have to hope the stink bug wasn't on that one too. Don't think I've ever eaten two stink bug flavored blackberries in a row and I hope I never do!! Talk about spoiling the anticipated yummy berry flavor. 

Saturday I got a gallon of berries. Took a long time. Zeb lay in the shade and whined off and on to remind me how hot it was. He was right! It was hot! Dogs don't like blackberry jam. I'm beginning to think twice about whether I do.

When I got the berries home, I had to wash them and get them ready for Aunt Love to make the jam. Then I had to hover nearby because well, Aunt Love is getting forgetful. She puts on a pot of blackberry jam - can't you almost smell it - and promptly forgets it. Last week she forgot to stir it and it boiled up and over the top of the pan down into the burners. What a mess! So Dad says I have to watch the blackberry jam pot boiling. That way I can either remind Aunt Love to check it or stir it myself. I hate stirring it myself. I always get burned. You see when the jam is boiling down and beginning to get thick, it pops in big ploppy circles like those pools out in Yellowstone. Those pops can land hot blackberry juice on your hand. Ouch! But that does mean it's almost done. Aunt Love tests to see if it's done by putting a dollop of the jam on a cold saucer and sticking it in the freezer compartment. Once it's had a minute or two to chill, Aunt Love looks at it to see if it's done. All I can tell is that it's purple. But Aunt Love can tip that saucer up and tell whether to keep cooking or stop cooking by how that jam sample sits on the plate. Or doesn't sit on the plate. At least she used to be able to do that. Now it's anybody's guess what she'll remember or what she'll forget. So far she hasn't forgotten the first Bible verse. I guess that's good if she didn't always hunt some out of her memory to try to keep me in line. And after I pretended to know about jam sliding on a plate and got popped by that jam juice while helping her. If she reads this, she'll give me a hard look and ask who plans on eating that jam.

I've got to go now and think about a way to stop these chiggers from itching. How about you? Did you ever get chiggers while blackberry picking?