Mushroom Spotting and Bailey Makes His Escape

August 18, 1965

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. What do you think about these toadstools? Aren't they something? Dad says he might put the picture in Banner if news doesn't pick up. 

News never picks up in Hollyhill. Never. The most exciting thing that happened all summer was Mr. Wallace's cows got out day before yesterday, and were in the middle of the road. When Miss Harley who lives down the road, came around the corner and saw that big old black and white cow in the middle of the road staring at her, she slammed on the brakes. She said it looked like that cow wanted to play "chicken." If so, the cow must have won. Miss Harley ran her car off the road and smack dab into a fencepost. Dad went out and took a picture. The cow was gone by the time he got there, but Miss Harley's car kissing up against the post was still good. She wasn't hurt, but Dad said she was mad as a wet hen. Seems like we can't get away from chickens here. Ha! Ha!

School will be starting next week. They used to wait until September, but I guess the teachers got bored. Not me. I keep busy out hunting mushrooms. They are sort of pretty, aren't they? In a decaying type of way, Zella said, and it would be best if I stopped wasting film. She gives out new rolls of film from her supply cache like it was gold. But a newspaper has to have pictures. Dad says the pictures sell papers.

Zella says she doubts if mushrooms will sell anything. Car wrecks maybe. Zella never likes anything I do. I could take a picture of that Jupiter spaceship Wes says he came on and she'd tell me I was wasting film. But I'm pretty sure that would sell papers!!

But I can't worry about Zella. Time to write some more about Bailey.  See you next week.   

 

BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke - CHAPTER 3 (earlier chapters in page link to Bailey's Bug in menu above)

     The next day was Saturday. That meant Mr. Robinson didn’t go out to his car and drive away in the morning. It meant sausage for breakfast and even one for Bailey. I meant Mr. Robinson might take him for a walk.

     They did that on the street. Outside the fence. But Mr. Robinson always hooked the leash on Bailey’s collar before he opened the door.

     The leash was a terrible thing that jerked at Bailey’s neck and made it hard to breathe if he wanted to run. It grabbed and held tightest whenever he needed to jump at a bird or sniff out an odor somewhere off the sidewalk.

     Even when he ignored the birds and smells, the leash still attacked and tied up his feet. Then Bailey had to stand still while his people freed his legs and called him a clumsy old dog. That hadn’t been so bad when Reid did it because he would laugh and hug him too. But Mr. Robinson never hugged him. Worse, he always blamed Bailey instead of the nasty leash for getting tangled up.

     So Bailey barely managed a half-hearted thump of his tail when Mr. Robinson got out the leash and talked in the booming voice he saved for Bailey. “Time for a walk, old boy. You’re getting fat.”

     What was wrong with being fat anyway? Bailey gave him a look and wanted to lie back down on his rug instead of letting the man hook the leash to his collar. But Bailey was an obedient dog. If Mr. Robinson wanted to walk, then he’d have to walk.

     Lucinda raised her head as he passed her chair. “You can’t get away. Stop thinking about it.”

     “You could help me.”

     “I told you. I like it here. Sunshine and food. That’s all I need.”

     “But don’t you miss Reid scratching under your chin and rubbing all the way down your back, even your tail?”

     For a second, Lucinda looked as if she might admit that she did miss Reid. For a second. Then she turned her head away from Bailey. “I can scratch my own chin and rub my back on the table leg.” With that, she put her head down and closed her eyes.

     At the door, Mr. Robinson jiggled the leash as though it were a doggy treat. “Come on, Bailey. Day’s a wasting.”

     Bailey couldn’t keep from shuddering when the leash grabbed on to his collar. That made his ear itch and he sat down to scratch it. The leash came alive and jerked him up.

     Before they even got out the door, the leash wrapped around his front left paw. When Bailey tried to high step away from it, the thing grabbed his other front paw. Out on the porch, Mr. Robinson fussed as he took control of the leash.

     The leash didn’t care. Instead it reached and grabbed Mr. Robinson’s feet to pull loose his shoestrings. The man sat on the porch steps to tie them back. Bailey hadn’t figured out shoestrings, exactly. Big people were always worrying if they came loose and little people like Reid didn’t care if they stayed loose all day. Even so, Bailey was used to waiting while shoelaces got wrapped up in bows. Even the leash waited quiet as anything at times like that.

     In fact the leash was extra quiet right now. The loop end that Mr. Robinson usually held onto to try to make it behave was loose on the steps. Mr. Robinson didn’t seem to notice as he wrapped the ends of his laces just so.

     This was Bailey’s chance. The leash needed somebody or something holding on to that loop to be powerful. Once a long time ago, Bailey dragged the leash across the park before he let Reid catch him. The leash had run along beside him not doing a thing. Just bouncing on the ground.

     Bailey hesitated. He was already feeling a little hungry in spite of gulping down that sausage. And it didn’t seem right to run off without saying goodbye to Lucinda whether she wanted him to or not.

     “That should hold them.” Mr. Robinson jerked on the laces. In a second, he’d be reaching for the leash to make it come to life.

     The street was in front of them. No fence to stop him. The hum got louder in Bailey’s ears. GO!

     The first step away from Mr. Robinson was hard. The next one wasn’t much easier, but by the time he reached the edge of the yard, he was running. Nothing was choking him, and his feet felt fine.

     Mr. Robinson yelled at him. “Stop, Bailey.”

     The word bounced after Bailey and almost jerked him to a stop. But he kept going. He had to find Reid.

     The front door opened and Mrs. Robinson was wringing her hands. “Oh my! What if he gets run over?” She sounded so worried Bailey felt bad.

     “I’d better catch him,” Mr. Robinson said.

     Bailey didn’t hear any more. The blood was pumping in his ears and he was getting out of breath. He hadn’t had a good run since Reid left. Mr. Robinson didn’t throw the red toy and when he walked Bailey, the leash choked him if he tried to run.

     But he wouldn’t stop now. Even if they got in the car and came after him. Even if the leash did turn on him. So far it just clattered along the sidewalk beside him, not causing the first problem. But that might not last.

     Mr. Robinson called, all happy like he had a handful of doggie treats. Bailey could almost smell those treats, but he didn’t stop running. Reid would have doggy treats for him. And even if he didn’t, what was a doggie treat to his boy’s hug?

     Bailey shut out the man’s voice and concentrated on the hum in his ears. He could hear it. And it sounded like Reid’s whistle.

     He crossed one street, then another, without any screeching around him. He raced through strange backyards and past a fence where a dog lunged against the wire to get at Bailey. He ran under some bushes to get away, and the leash jerked him off his feet. But when he backed up, the leash came along peacefully again.

     Bailey didn’t know where he was going, but he kept going. When he absolutely couldn’t run another yard, he slowed to a walk. A man yelled at him, but it wasn’t Mr. Robinson.

     He turned around a corner and knew the houses. He stopped to get his bearings and saw the Robinsons’ car coming toward him. He couldn’t run faster than a car. They would catch him and he’d never find Reid. The hum burned in his ears.

     “Hiss. Over here.” The sound came from under the bush beside him.

When Bailey hesitated, the voice got louder. “Hurry up, you dumb lummox of a dog. They’re going to catch you for sure.”

Bailey scooted under the bush.

“Stand still. You’re shaking the bush.”

“Lucinda.” Bailey stared at the cat. “What are you doing out here?”

March Marches

March 3, 1965

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Not much has been happening here in Hollyhill. School. Basketball games. We actually won one game in the District Tournament. So we had lots of basketball pictures in the Hollyhill Banner. Even one of Valerie jumping up and cheering. I felt especially generous taking that picture. Valerie thinks she's so cute that it makes me sick, but it was a good picture of her actually cheering the team on. I can't help it if her hair did look a little messed. A little. She'll probably corner me the day after the paper comes out and demand we print a retraction. Her hair does not get messed up!!

But there was plenty of news this time last year when Martin Luther King Jr. and Jackie Robinson, the Jackie Robinson who played Major League Baseball, came to lead a march on Frankfort to try to get a Civil Rights bill passed. 10,000 people came from all over the state to march on the Capital to convince Governor Breathitt to push a bill that had been introduced in the General Assembly but was stuck in committee. It didn't work. The bill didn't pass and so in some places blacks still can't eat inside restaurants or stay at hotels. The day of the march last year the sun was shining but it was cold with sleet and snow flurries coming down at times. That's March weather for you. 

Anyway, thousands of people, black and white, lined the avenue to watch the Mr. Robinson and Reverend King lead the demonstrators down Capitol Avenue. After walking four blocks, the speakers made it up the Capitol steps to the platform, where Peter, Paul and Mary were singing. Dad went down to Frankfort that day and wrote up something about it for the next week's paper. Of course all the big city papers had already reported it by then.  

I read all the reports and saw the pictures, but I really didn't get it until Noah moved to Holly County and began working for Dad on the paper last summer. He knew all about the Civil Rights march because his mother used to ride the Freedom Train in the south. Noah was even part of the Children's March in Birmingham. He said I didn't know anything about Civil Rights and how it felt to be discriminated against because his skin was black. And he was right. 

But I was interested in hearing his story. Dad was too, but he had to make sure Noah knew what kind of paper the Banner was. Here's an excerpt from Orchard of Hope.

    "You might not like what I wrote," Noah told Dad when he asked him if he wanted to write something about school.
    "Then I wouldn't print it." Dad fastened his eyes on Noah. "We might as well get one thing clear right at the beginning, Noah. The Banner is just a small-town paper. We put out one issue per week. We're here to serve the community by reporting on what happens in Hollyhill and Holly County. We don't do national news like what Congress is up to or what's happening in Vietnam unless it has a local handle, such as one of our Hollyhill boys flying the bombers over North Vietnam or one of our senators coming through town. If something like that happens, it would be front-page news for the Banner. But we leave the rest of the national and state news to the daily papers out of Lexington and Louisville."
    "So how do you sell papers if you don't have anything much to write about?" Noah asked.
   "We manage," Dad said. "Folks here want to read about what happens in town and at the schools. They like seeing their pictures or their kids' pictures in the paper."
    "Sounds pretty dull," Noah said. "I thought newspapers tried to come up with controversial stories to keep people interested." 
    "I don't print stories to stir up trouble just for the sake of stirring up trouble."
    "But sometimes trouble needs to be stirred up in order to get wrongs righted," Noah said.
  
I don't think there would be any doubt that if Noah and his family had been living in Holly County last March, they would have been in that crowd marching on the Capital. At least Noah and his mother would have been. Last year, she helped turn us around here in Hollyhill on some of the things we should have been doing differently. 

I can't tell the whole story here, but you can read all about it in Orchard of Hope. Myra Hearndon is quite a woman. Somebody who makes a difference. That's how I want to be when I grow up. I want to do things that matter. I don't know what, but Dad says that's okay. The Lord will guide me to the right things if I let him. 

How about you? You ever march for something you believe needs to happen? And do you think papers like the Hollyhill Banner filled with local news are good or plain boring?

Oh yeah, and I've got to announce the winner of my blog contest. Sharon is the winner. She'll get her choice of one of my books. Thanks a bunch to all of you who left comments and entered to win a book. Maybe we'll do it again soon.

Hollyhill News - Winners & Interviews

March 3, 1964

Jocie Brooke here reporting from Main Street, Hollyhill. It's March. Basketball tournament time. Our high school team out at Holly County High played in the District Tournament last week. We didn't win. We never win the tournament, but we did win a few games this year. Better than some years.

I took pictures for the paper. I love taking pictures. There's just something about the bright light pop of the flashbulb when I push the shutter button. I even like twisting the knob to get ready for the next picture. Dad's always telling me how much flashbulbs and film cost and how we have to count pennies to make any money on the paper, so I have to be choosy about the pictures I take. 

I missed a couple of great pictures last week because I got to cheering for the team. For a few minutes in the third quarter, we just lacked a field goal of tying the score. Then we go behind again. So I remembered to take a few pictures of the cheerleaders the way Dad told me to, but I made sure Valerie Givens wasn't front and center. She thinks she's SO cute she makes me sick! Well, she is cute, but she could be nicer to some of us who aren't Miss Homecoming Queen. She never smiles at me - unless I have the camera. Then she's smiling big and saying, "Take my picture. Take my picture!" 

Everybody wants to see their picture in the Banner. Well, the kids do and the grown-ups like seeing their kids and grandkids in the paper. Dad says that sells more papers than the news. That could be because there's never any real news in Hollyhill. But I don't tell Dad that. He thinks the city council arguing about whether to put trashcans on the street is news.

But I do have news tonight. Two big news items. The first one you're not going to believe! Somebody interviewed me. ME! About me being in that Heart of Hollyhill book, Scent of Lilacs.  You can read all about it Tuesday on Margaret Daley's Blog. Whatever a blog is. It must be something like here where I'm writing my Hollyhill news. But I don't care if I know exactly what it is or not. It was fun answering those questions. All about me! Can you believe somebody was that interested in me? And that book about me and everybody here in Hollyhill. 
 
Do you think I'm going to be famous now?? This blog lady is even giving away one of the books to one of the people who go over and leave a comment on her blog the way you can leave a comment here. I like hearing from you here and I'll peek over there to see if anybody's talking about me tomorrow. I hope somebody will want to read what I said. I mean that's why you do interviews, so somebody can read them. Believe me, my interview is more fun than Dad interviewing the mayor, but don't tell him that. He'll think I'm getting the big head like Valerie.

That's not all the news. Remember about all those comments you've been leaving to maybe have a chance to win a copy of that book, Scent of Lilacs. The winners have been picked. Lanehillhouse, Laney4, and Maureen Timerman. Trouble is, two of you didn't leave your contact info. Got yours, Lanehillhouse. Laney4 and Maureen, you can send yours to annhgabhart@yahoo.com or leave it in a comment here. If Ann doesn't hear from you by next Monday, I'll draw for more winners. She'll be writing about the winners on her One Writer's Journal too. You know she's the one that wrote all about Hollyhill and the one giving away these books. I'm just helping out with the news. That's what reporters do. That and make flashbulbs pop when they take pictures. I'll take your picture if you come to Hollyhill.


That's all the news from Hollyhill tonight. I'd better get to work on my algebra. Sigh. I'd rather be taking pictures or doing more interviews.