April 6, 1966
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Do you like basketball? We're big basketball fans at our house. Well, all except Tabitha who thinks watching boys bounce balls up and down a gym floor is about as boring as watching paint dry. I think she's crazy. Basketball is THE sport to watch. In fact, I'm teaching Stephen how to dribble a basketball. He may not be two yet, but he's catching on. A star in the making. Dad will be putting him up a basketball goal on the side of the garage before you know it.
Even Aunt Love likes basketball. Every time there's a game on television, she's glued to the set. She can even remember the score. Her forgetfulness goes on hold when she's watching the games or listening to them on the radio.
That's how it is here in Kentucky. Basketball is the sport. But Tabitha moved around with our mother all those years and never had time to really get behind a team. Not even UCLA out in California. But in Kentucky, we get behind our Wildcats. We thought sure they were going to win it all this year. But they ran into a better team. At least that's what Dad said. Texas Western. They were tall and our guys couldn't shoot over them. We ended up shooting something like 38 percent. That's not too good in basketball. You hit 380 in baseball, you're pretty good, but you've got to hit 50 percent of your shots in basketball to be any good. Sigh.
Everybody in Hollyhill has been depressed ever since the game a couple of weeks ago. You just look at the guys on the bench in the picture that was in the paper. Sad times. You don't get a chance to win the championship every year. Well, unless you're UCLA. They seem to be there a lot. But it's been eight years since Kentucky has brought home the trophy. I don't remember that. I was just a little kid then. So we had high hopes this year. Sigh.
The newspapers all made a big deal about Texas Western beating Kentucky because their starting lineup was all black players and Kentucky didn't have any black players on the team. I understand what they are saying. Noah, who works for Dad sometimes, has made me see what discrimination is like, but I didn't think about black and white in the game. I just wanted our team to win. Sigh.
But Dad says it's just a game and there are lots more important things in life than who wins a ballgame. Especially when you're just on the sidelines watching and not on the team. But it would have been more fun if our team had won. Sigh.
When I left Bailey and Skelley last week, Skelley had just lost his painted stick and was feeling really sad too. Guess I'd better see what happens next.
BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke
(Continued from last report. The full story under the Bailey's Bug report heading up top of the page.)
"What's gone?" Lucinda raised her head up to look at Skelley.
"I dropped me master's baton in the water." Skelley's voice was so low Bailey could barely make out his words.
"Where?" Lucinda's ear perked up and she looked more like her old self in spite of the way her fur was sticking out in odd angles.
"Out there." Skelley stared at the water and then dropped his nose back toward the ground. "For a truth, it's gone forever."
"I tried to find it." Bailey's ears drooped down. "I really did."
"He did, Miss Lucinda. But some things can't be found."
Lucinda looked at the water again and then back at the old dog. "I'm sorry about your baton, Skelley."
"Don't fret yourself about it, Miss Lucinda. Twas silly me packing it here and there all this time anyway, but it somehow kept me master with me."
"He'll still be with you," Lucinda said softly.
"Aye, I suppose," the old dog said without much conviction.
Lucinda moved over right in front of Skelley's nose. "I thank you, Skelley, for pulling me out of the water. You're a remarkable dog like none I've every known before or ever expect to know in the future." She touched his face with her paw.
"And ye be a fine feline, Miss Lucinda. Me old stick was just that. An old stick."
Skelley tried to sound as though he meant it, but his eyes were so sad that Bailey wanted to dive back into the rushing water to hunt for the stick again.
Lucinda noticed Bailey looking at the water. "Let's get away from here. I hate water. Please tell me we're on the right side of this river."
"The right side?" Bailey cocked his head to look at Lucinda.
"The one your bug says is right."
"Oh, the right side. Yes, the right side." Bailey stood up, shook some more water out of his coat and started away from the stream. He had no idea which way to go for even though it had stopped raining at last the sun was hiding behind thick clouds.
In fact, it looked near night. They needed a safe place to rest. Somewhere they didn't have to worry about coyotes surrounding them. Someplace where he could get the water out of his ears so that maybe the hum would come back.
Bailey stopped on a little rise. Ahead was a line of trees where there would be some bushes for him and Skelley to hide and trees for Lucinda to climb. Maybe they could find some acorns or berries or bugs to eat.
He thought of rabbits, and his mouth started watering. He pushed the thought away. Even when his legs weren't feeling so rubbery from swimming in the water, he couldn't catch a rabbit without Skelley's help. But Skelley trailed along behind them without seeming to care about catching rabbits or where the sun might be. In fact, he got so far behind that Lucinda and Bailey slowed way down to let him catch up. Finally Skelley stopped trying to keep up and lay down on the ground.
"Me thinks the coyotes must have got hold me leg. It's paining me some. The two of ye go on, and after I rest a bit, I'll come along."
"It's not much farther. Just over to those trees. We can find a better place to rest there." Bailey pointed with his nose.
Skelley didn't even raise his head to look. "Aye. I'll be along in a little while."
"What about the adventure?" Bailey said. "You can't give up on that now."
"Aye and it is a fine adventure, lad. I'm not quitting it. I'll be along as soon as me leg rests up a bit."
Lucinda let out a yowl and swatted Bailey. "Stop your nonsense about adventure. This isn't an adventure. It's a disaster, but it's a disaster we're all in together. And if you're going to stay here, the two of us will stay right here with you." Lucinda sat down beside Skelley and started licking the muddy water out of her coat.
"Ye can't stay here, Miss Lucinda. The coyotes might find us and the trees are much too far away."
Lucinda looked up from licking her paw. "We fought the coyotes once. If they find us, we'll just do it again." She began washing herself again.
A bit of the old glint flashed in Skelley's eyes. "I guess you've got me, Miss Lucinda. Ye know I can't let you stay here in the open because for a truth, we may have fought the coyotes but we weren't winning."
"We got away, didn't we?" Lucinda said.
"By the skin of our teeth with a bushel load of luck." Skelley clambered to his feet. "Could be, if we take it slow, I might make it to the trees after all."
They moved so slowly now that Bailey had time to hunt for grasshoppers and to nose over rocks and grab a few crickets. He took some to Skelley, but the old dog shook his head.
"Ye eat them, lad. Me appetite seems to have left me."
(To be continued)
January 5, 1966
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. Can you believe it's 1966? Wow! In a few years we'll flip the decade and then it'll really be hard to write the right date for the year. I'm getting fairly good at changing a 5 into a 6 on my school papers.
Yeah, it didn't snow, so we had to go back to school. Not very fun. Although I did like seeing my girlfriends again. They were all sporting new sweaters they got for Christmas. I was too. The one Leigh gave me. Leigh knows what's pretty and doesn't make the mistake of buying girlie looking things for me. I am not a ruffle type girl!
What did you do to celebrate the New Year? Daddy let me sit up and watch the new year in on television. He says he can't see why anybody would want to watch a ball drop in Times Square, but if I wanted to waste my time watching that nonsense, he supposed one night a year it wouldn't hurt me to sit up till midnight. I took a picture of the television screen at midnight when 1966 showed up.
I jumped up and down and shouted sort of under my breath because everybody else was already asleep. Even Tabitha. You'd think at her age she wouldn't be too old to want to see the old year out and the new year in. She said she would have if Robert was there. That's her fellow. But he wasn't and Stephen, at one year old, doesn't know anything about new years showing up. She said he'd be up and ready for his breakfast at seven sharp the same as any other morning.
I guess she was right. For sure she was right about it being more fun to celebrate a new year showing up if other people were around. Too bad I couldn't have watched the old year out with Wes. He'd have had a dozen Jupiter New Year's stories to tell. I'll have to ask him to tell me one tomorrow when I go by the newspaper office after school. If he does, maybe I can share it with you next week.
Meanwhile, it's time to see what Bailey, Lucinda and Skelley are up to. We left them last week with an owl about to swoop down on Bailey and scare him silly. Lucinda would say he's silly already. But if a big old owl was diving at me, I'd be scared. Wouldn't you?
BAILEY'S BUG by Jocie Brooke
(Continued from last week. Read it all at Bailey's Bug.
Bailey cowered against the ground as the bird's talons skimmed his back. Then as suddenly as it had appeared, the owl flapped away to a quieter perch in another tree.
Barking, Bailey ran after the bird. That started the coyotes up again. Bailey jumped around in a circle trying to figure out which direction to chase after the noisy coyotes, but their barks and yips seemed to be coming from every direction.
"For mercy's sake, Bailey," Lucinda hissed from the tree over his head. "It was only an owl, and I told you owls don't eat dogs. It was trying to scare you away."
"And those coyotes?" Bailey stopped hopping in circles.
"They mostly don't bother dogs like you either. I told you nothing normal eats dogs." Lucinda emphasized the word normal. "Now go to sleep."
"Miss Lucinda is right, Bailey me lad," Skelley said. "We need our sleep for the journey tomorrow." The old dog promptly curled up in the hole he'd dug out next to the tree trunk.
Bailey stayed on his feet, studying the shifting shadows long after the coyotes fell silent once more. He had the feeling eyes were watching him even though he couldn't see anything. Great saucer eyes. If only he could climb up in the tree with Lucinda.
He wanted to bark again. That was what he always did when he didn't know what else to do, but Lucinda would yowl at him if he woke her up. So instead of barking, he growled real low to let anything that might be out there in the dark know that he wasn't a dog to be messed with. Hadn't he stopped a monster bulldozer? Hadn't he crossed the river of car without getting mashed? He could fight off a few coyotes and an owl. He could.
He kept his growl rumbling down in his chest for a long time until his feet began to hurt. At last, still watching on every side, he eased over to where Skelley, his nose on his baton, was sound asleep.
Bailey eased down close beside the bony dog, but he kept his eyes open until they burned. He spotted mice creeping from the cover of one leaf or bush to another. A gray ball of an animal with a skinny tail trundled by. Another creature who looked like it was wearing a mask and who had rings on its tail scurried past. All the woods creatures seemed too busy to give Bailey more than a passing glance.
After a long time, when the owl didn't come back and the coyotes stayed silent, Bailey closed his eyes. He shut out the night noises around him and concentrated on the hum inside him until he could almost feel Reid hugging him.
If he had to, he would walk through a million trees with eyes everywhere to find Reid. If he had to.
(To be continued.)
May 5, 1965
Jocie Brooke reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky.
I found this poem in a church magazine at Miss Sally's house. She says it's a really sweet poem. She never had any babies of her own to rock, but she says she was blessed with many babies to hold at church. She said most mothers are glad to have somebody take over the rocking now and again and that this poem is true because it made her love every one of those babies when she held them and rocked them to sleep.
I don't think my mother ever rocked me to sleep. I asked Dad once if she did and he didn't want to answer me. You see, my mother never really wanted to be my mother. Daddy was always the one who took care of me even before Mama ran away from us. Daddy always said it was because she didn't like living in Hollyhill but I figure it was to get away from me and Dad too.
I'm not mad about it or even very sad about it anymore. I'm used to it. But that doesn't make Mother's Day much fun for me. Everybody else at church and school are making cards for their mothers about how much they love them and how much their mothers have done for them. I never know what to do. You can't really make your dad a Mother's Day card and Aunt Love would faint dead away if I got all sugary sweet with her. Aunt Love and I have an interesting relationship, but I wouldn't call it any kind of relationship that calls for a Mother's Day card. And I can't make Leigh a card even if she wants to be my stepmother. She's more like another sister. You know, like Tabitha.
Maybe I could make Tabitha a card for Stephen to give her. She's a good mama. And then, there's Miss Sally. I could make her a card too. Not a Mother's Day one, but a "you're a great friend" card. Or an "almost like a grandmother" card. I did have a sweet grandmother, Mama Mae, but she died when I was nine. I could make a card for her and just keep it in my memory book. That way I wouldn't feel so weird when everybody else is making cards for Mother's Day. But it would still be weird.
I feel weird on Mother's Day but I just sort of smile and act like it doesn't bother me that everybody else has a mother who cooks dinner and makes them brush their teeth or whatever mothers do.
If you know somebody who doesn't have a good mother, it might be nice to give them an extra hug this week. Don't heap a bunch of pity on them. Just a hug will show you understand that even though most people have great mothers, not everybody does. I didn't. But I do have the best father in the world and that make everything all right.
April 20, 1965
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Main Street, Hollyhill, Kentucky where if you went to church last Sunday on Easter, you'd better have been wearing a hat or something closely resembling a hat. At least that's what Aunt Love says.
She even told Tabitha she'd have to wear a hat although I'm not sure she was happy when Tabitha found this big floppy hat that could work as an umbrella if it rained. That's Tabitha. Always flamboyant. But after all, she lived in California for a while. That's bound to do something to a person.
Aunt Love used to only wear black or deep purple hats to church, but then after she told me and Wes about something that happened way back when, she started wearing this bright red hat to church all the time. Bright red! Something like this one. Who would have ever thought that?
You can read all about that in the book, Scent of Lilacs. By the way, somewhere in the future that book is still free for download on e-readers.
Of course we did think Zella would have to have an Easter hat that beat everybody else's hat. And then she just went with a black pillbox hat something like President Kennedy's wife always wore. Looked great on Jackie Kennedy. But Zella looked like she was wearing half a painted oatmeal box with a hairnet on it.
Dad did tell us that hats weren't a contest and that everybody looked great in their Easter hats, but you can bet the ladies at churches all around Holly County were checking out every hat that rode in on a head. I felt like a total nut wearing that white hat up top. I wanted to look good in it and all grown up, but I just looked like a butterfly net was stuck on my head. Sigh. Some people have style. Leigh, that's Dad's girlfriend, she says I'll get style, but somehow I doubt it.
Hats aren't the most important thing about Easter anyway. We need to quit worrying about who's wearing a hat and who isn't. The Lord rising from the grave. That's the important part of Easter.
But since we're talking about hats, did you wear one on Easter? This year or any Easter?
March 24, 1965
Jocie Brooke here reporting from Hollyhill, Kentucky. It's finally getting to be spring in Hollyhill. And boy, are we all ready for it! The March flowers are blooming on the hill on Mr. Crutcher's farm next door. He says there used to be a house there, but it got torn down and the pieces carried off to build a new house in a new place. Gosh, if there had been ghosts in that old house, wonder if they went with the planks, beams, windows and doors to the new place.
Oh, I know some people say there aren't ghosts, and I can't say that I've ever seen any. Of course, there's the Holy Ghost. You can't actually see Him either, but you can feel Him inside you. That's not like the ghosts that might have haunted that old house on Mr. Crutcher's farm. They'd be different. Maybe left over spirits from people who used to live there. Who knows? Maybe something bad happened there. Somebody could have been murdered or died after a terrible accident. Maybe falling off a cliff or something.
Dad says people don't hang around down here after they die. They go on to be with Jesus. Or not. But their spirits don't linger down here haunting people. I believe Dad, but I've heard plenty of stories of ghosts too. Haven't you? People who see ghosts.
Tabitha, that's my sister, she said she met a woman out in California who said she saw ghosts all the time. That she not only saw them, she could talk to them. The woman told Tabitha that sometimes the people couldn't go on to their heavenly rewards because they felt they had unfinished business here on earth. This woman claimed to help them take care of whatever was keeping them from going on. One of them, she said, just wanted to make sure her family had the right recipe for Thanksgiving dressing.
I told Tabitha that was crazy, but we both agreed that crazy things sometimes happen. So who knows?
Even the disciples weren't so sure there weren't ghosts. In Matthew, it says they thought Jesus was a ghost when they saw him walking across the water that night when their boat was being tossed around on the sea by the winds. It wasn't until He spoke to them and told them not be afraid that they knew who He was. Dad preaches on that sometimes. About how Peter was walking out on the water to Jesus and didn't sink until he took his eyes off Jesus. Dad says we can keep from sinking in life if we keep looking to Jesus instead of letting the winds and storms knock us off course.
So I don't know if there are ghosts or not. I just know I haven't ever seen one. I haven't seen Jesus either, but I know He lives in my heart. So I don't have to be afraid when I'm back there picking a bouquet of those March flowers on Mr. Crutcher's farm where those ghosts might still be.
Have you ever seen a ghost or heard anybody else say they have?
Mrs. Williams at church says she saw her husband after he died in a tractor accident some years ago. She thinks he came by the house to tell her goodbye. I asked her if she was afraid and she said why would she be afraid of her own husband. She was just very sad because she knew he was heading up to heaven and she'd have to wait until the Lord called her home before she'd see him again.
