| CharlesRichardSheetz-Books |
Chap-3 Jerrico Excerpts
She started arguing with him as I walked away to the road. I
grabbed an old baseball bat and started hitting rocks from the
gravel road, sending them down over the hill. I kept watching in
the direction of Chigger Baker’s farm where Daddy was getting
the horse.
As I was hitting home run after home run in the last inning of the
ball game to win in my make believe world, I heard a rumble of a
truck coming from the other direction coming up the hill from the
bottom lands down by Beechwood Crick. I moved off to the side
of the road and saw that it was Weezer Branstetter. He was an old
farmer in his seventies who lived next to the crick about two
miles down. I’d started working for him last summer doing odd
jobs around his farm for extra money for me. He paid me a dollar
and a quarter a day and threw in two meals. I thought that was
pretty good for an eleven year old. It was my first work for wages.
Daddy said, “Boy, I think your being taken advantage of workin’ for
those slave wages.” I told him I thought it was fair and I wanted
the money. He said, “Okay, I hope you wake up and smell the
coffee but it’s your time and sweat.” I got the feelin’
sometimes…hell a lot of the times that my daddy thought I might
be a little slow in the thinking department.
Daddy didn’t like Weezer. In the past he’d said that Weezer was
an old skin flint and was so tight that his shoes squeaked and if
you did any tradin’ or dickering with him you’d be lucky to leave
with your shirt on your back. He drove by waving as he went by. I
waved back at him. Bobby Gene who had been setting in our
driveway next to the road looked up and waved at Weezer and
said, “Hey you old skin flint.” I said,“Bobby hesh up that mouth of
yourn, that’s my boss.”
Weezer stopped the truck and started backing up to me. I
thought, “Great, he must of heard what Bobby Gene said.” He
hadn’t. Once stopped he said, “Young Sheetz, you ready to go to
work?” I said, “Yes sir, I shore am.” He smiled showing me his
worn out yellow false teeth that was always trying to fall out of his
mouth when he talked. They clicked like two plastic spoons
hitting together when he talked. His eyes looked too big for his
old wrinkled skinny face because of the pop bottle thick glasses
that he wore. He said, “Things have really been bad and didn’t
know if he could afford my high wages, but he needed the help
and could I be over to his place Monday morning about 5:30 a.m.
He went on to say he’d have to kill an extra hog to feed me and to
fill them two hollow legs of mine. He swore he’d never seen
anyone in all his born days eat as much as me and didn’t see how
my daddy could afford me. I said, “Yes sir, I do like my vittles.
Momma says I got worms. She thinks I take after my Uncle Junior.
He’s a big eater too.” He said, “Boy, don’t ever bring that uncle of
yourn over with you. Between the two of you, you’d put me in the
poor house.”
After he stopped laughing he said “it was time to set out the
tobacco patch and we needed to get the plants in the ground
Monday as it was gonna rain Tuesday and he wanted them to get
muddied in real good to get a good start”. I said, “I’ll be there
Weezer, thankee you for the work.” He was hard of hearing and
said, “Huh, whad you say?” I repeated what I’d said. I then heard
water splashing on the ground and I looked back to the rear of
Weezer’s truck and Bobby Gene had his thingamagig out and was
peeing like a race horse on Weezer’s back bumper. The water
was running down hill towards me from under the truck.
He cranked up his old beat up truck and said, “I’ll see you Monday
young man and headed on down the hill never knowing that
Bobby Gene had baptized his old jalopy. I yelled at Bobby to put
that thing away, that he ought to be embarrassed to pull that out
in public. “I’ve never seen such a teeny, weeny.” He was still
dribbling a little out and smiled as big as a possum and pointed it
at me. I said, “You do that and I’ll bust you a good one on your
little thick noggin.” He put it away and said he’d heard Daddy say,
“Piss on that old skin flint” and he did that. I swear Bobby Gene
was only six years old but he seemed to always remember things
people said, he was like a parrot.
She started arguing with him as I walked away to the road. I
grabbed an old baseball bat and started hitting rocks from the
gravel road, sending them down over the hill. I kept watching in
the direction of Chigger Baker’s farm where Daddy was getting
the horse.
As I was hitting home run after home run in the last inning of the
ball game to win in my make believe world, I heard a rumble of a
truck coming from the other direction coming up the hill from the
bottom lands down by Beechwood Crick. I moved off to the side
of the road and saw that it was Weezer Branstetter. He was an old
farmer in his seventies who lived next to the crick about two
miles down. I’d started working for him last summer doing odd
jobs around his farm for extra money for me. He paid me a dollar
and a quarter a day and threw in two meals. I thought that was
pretty good for an eleven year old. It was my first work for wages.
Daddy said, “Boy, I think your being taken advantage of workin’ for
those slave wages.” I told him I thought it was fair and I wanted
the money. He said, “Okay, I hope you wake up and smell the
coffee but it’s your time and sweat.” I got the feelin’
sometimes…hell a lot of the times that my daddy thought I might
be a little slow in the thinking department.
Daddy didn’t like Weezer. In the past he’d said that Weezer was
an old skin flint and was so tight that his shoes squeaked and if
you did any tradin’ or dickering with him you’d be lucky to leave
with your shirt on your back. He drove by waving as he went by. I
waved back at him. Bobby Gene who had been setting in our
driveway next to the road looked up and waved at Weezer and
said, “Hey you old skin flint.” I said,“Bobby hesh up that mouth of
yourn, that’s my boss.”
Weezer stopped the truck and started backing up to me. I
thought, “Great, he must of heard what Bobby Gene said.” He
hadn’t. Once stopped he said, “Young Sheetz, you ready to go to
work?” I said, “Yes sir, I shore am.” He smiled showing me his
worn out yellow false teeth that was always trying to fall out of his
mouth when he talked. They clicked like two plastic spoons
hitting together when he talked. His eyes looked too big for his
old wrinkled skinny face because of the pop bottle thick glasses
that he wore. He said, “Things have really been bad and didn’t
know if he could afford my high wages, but he needed the help
and could I be over to his place Monday morning about 5:30 a.m.
He went on to say he’d have to kill an extra hog to feed me and to
fill them two hollow legs of mine. He swore he’d never seen
anyone in all his born days eat as much as me and didn’t see how
my daddy could afford me. I said, “Yes sir, I do like my vittles.
Momma says I got worms. She thinks I take after my Uncle Junior.
He’s a big eater too.” He said, “Boy, don’t ever bring that uncle of
yourn over with you. Between the two of you, you’d put me in the
poor house.”
After he stopped laughing he said “it was time to set out the
tobacco patch and we needed to get the plants in the ground
Monday as it was gonna rain Tuesday and he wanted them to get
muddied in real good to get a good start”. I said, “I’ll be there
Weezer, thankee you for the work.” He was hard of hearing and
said, “Huh, whad you say?” I repeated what I’d said. I then heard
water splashing on the ground and I looked back to the rear of
Weezer’s truck and Bobby Gene had his thingamagig out and was
peeing like a race horse on Weezer’s back bumper. The water
was running down hill towards me from under the truck.
He cranked up his old beat up truck and said, “I’ll see you Monday
young man and headed on down the hill never knowing that
Bobby Gene had baptized his old jalopy. I yelled at Bobby to put
that thing away, that he ought to be embarrassed to pull that out
in public. “I’ve never seen such a teeny, weeny.” He was still
dribbling a little out and smiled as big as a possum and pointed it
at me. I said, “You do that and I’ll bust you a good one on your
little thick noggin.” He put it away and said he’d heard Daddy say,
“Piss on that old skin flint” and he did that. I swear Bobby Gene
was only six years old but he seemed to always remember things
people said, he was like a parrot.
Chap-4 Test of Courage Excerpts
The night was pitch black outside, the wind was really blowing. If
you didn’t know better you’d think it was late October. The night
had a spooky feel to it. The time was about nine o’clock p.m. I
had gone to the kitchen for a glass of kool-aid. The windows on
the house were all open. I could hear all our dogs down at the
kennel at the edge of the woods; it was about a hundred yards
from the house, barking like crazy. They were in a howling frenzy
like they were on a hot trail of something.
I walked down to the kennels thinking that a possum or a raccoon
was teasing the dogs. The kennels were in between three very
large hickory trees and some of the branches hung low. As I got
to the fence I could hardly see anything in the dark, just making
out the movement of our eight or nine dogs. They were all at one
side of the fence facing the largest hickory tree, close to the
woods.
I walked over to that tree and then I heard the most terrifying
screams I had ever heard or could imagine in my life. It was a
cougar. It was no more than twenty feet directly above me in the
branches. I couldn’t see him, only hear him screaming and
growling. To this very day I’ve never experienced the sheer
terror or fear that I had course through my body at that moment.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight out.
I have experienced different degrees of fear since then in my two
trips to Viet Nam and many years as a police officer, but nothing to
match the stark terror I felt at that time. I heard the great cat leap
from the branches of the tree and hit the ground. Standing there
in only my jeans and moccasins with no weapon of any kind, only
my bare face hanging out. I decided very quickly that it was time
for this little hayseed to get the hell out of Dodge. I turned
towards the house and started picking them up and laying them
down. I was running so fast my heels were about to slap my butt
off. I believe Jesse Owens or Carl Lewis could not of beaten me
in that one hundred yard stretch. During the whole run I imagined
that meat eating animal right on my rear end ready to make a meal
out of me. I hit the back door of the house almost tearing it off of
its hinges.
I collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table to get my breath back. I
don’t think I took a single breath during the whole run, my heart
had been in my throat and I wasn’t able to. I then realized I hadn’t
been chased by the cougar but only by my fears. After realizing
how I would of looked if someone had been watching me in all my
manliness, I got very angry with myself. Then I got mad at the
cougar. What if my daddy had seen my sorry display of courage?
He’d of been ashamed of me or at least that’s what my young mind
thought. I was not about to tell what had happened or how I
reacted to it.
The night was pitch black outside, the wind was really blowing. If
you didn’t know better you’d think it was late October. The night
had a spooky feel to it. The time was about nine o’clock p.m. I
had gone to the kitchen for a glass of kool-aid. The windows on
the house were all open. I could hear all our dogs down at the
kennel at the edge of the woods; it was about a hundred yards
from the house, barking like crazy. They were in a howling frenzy
like they were on a hot trail of something.
I walked down to the kennels thinking that a possum or a raccoon
was teasing the dogs. The kennels were in between three very
large hickory trees and some of the branches hung low. As I got
to the fence I could hardly see anything in the dark, just making
out the movement of our eight or nine dogs. They were all at one
side of the fence facing the largest hickory tree, close to the
woods.
I walked over to that tree and then I heard the most terrifying
screams I had ever heard or could imagine in my life. It was a
cougar. It was no more than twenty feet directly above me in the
branches. I couldn’t see him, only hear him screaming and
growling. To this very day I’ve never experienced the sheer
terror or fear that I had course through my body at that moment.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight out.
I have experienced different degrees of fear since then in my two
trips to Viet Nam and many years as a police officer, but nothing to
match the stark terror I felt at that time. I heard the great cat leap
from the branches of the tree and hit the ground. Standing there
in only my jeans and moccasins with no weapon of any kind, only
my bare face hanging out. I decided very quickly that it was time
for this little hayseed to get the hell out of Dodge. I turned
towards the house and started picking them up and laying them
down. I was running so fast my heels were about to slap my butt
off. I believe Jesse Owens or Carl Lewis could not of beaten me
in that one hundred yard stretch. During the whole run I imagined
that meat eating animal right on my rear end ready to make a meal
out of me. I hit the back door of the house almost tearing it off of
its hinges.
I collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table to get my breath back. I
don’t think I took a single breath during the whole run, my heart
had been in my throat and I wasn’t able to. I then realized I hadn’t
been chased by the cougar but only by my fears. After realizing
how I would of looked if someone had been watching me in all my
manliness, I got very angry with myself. Then I got mad at the
cougar. What if my daddy had seen my sorry display of courage?
He’d of been ashamed of me or at least that’s what my young mind
thought. I was not about to tell what had happened or how I
reacted to it.
| CharlesRichardSheetz-Books |
| 251-937-4836 |
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