Way back in the day Pap’s uncle Frank decided to go get a load of peaches. Some of them he planned to sell, most of them probably. The remainder he would share with his sisters and mother so that they could put them up for winter use.
Frank got a local friend of the family to go with him. They both drove, with Frank promising to lead the way so that the friend wouldn’t have to worry about knowing the way to go.
All went well on the first part of the trip and the peaches were loaded into the trucks for the journey home to Brasstown.
But on the way home Frank forgot about his promise to drive slow enough to be followed and took off leaving the second truck alone with the driver left to find his way home alone.
The friend told Pap about the hiccup they had on the return trip.
“Jerry everything was going good, I thought I could find my way alright cause I’d paid close attention on the way knowing that Frank might leave me down there. Then a big old automobile with little blue lights pulled up beside me and motioned me off the side of the road. I pulled off and they stopped and got out, came up and asked me for my identification. I told them I had a drivers license and they said that would be fine. Once they looked at it they said I could go on down the road that they were looking for someone and I wasn’t him. They started walking off and I yelled at them and said I wanted to see their condintentials. I didn’t like the looks of them birds at all Jerry. They came on back and showed me their licenses and then I told them they could go on down the road too.”
Today is Pap’s birthday. He would have been 84 if he had lived. I miss the funny stories he used to tell me from days gone by, like the one about an old family friend asking the police for their condintentials instead of for their credentials 🙂
To read more about uncle Frank go here.
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I live peaches. We stop at a stand the other day and got some to eat on. So juicy and delicious. Happy birthday in Heaven.
Oh Tipper this brings back memories when a small child when men would go to SC it Georgia to haul into Marble NC fresh good peaches . dad brought two bushel of over ripe peaches my mother Mis Julie was so sick she couldn’t raise her head off the pillow I was nine years old snd I canned those two bushels of peaches. I washed and scolded my jars pealed those peaches and cold packed them mixed my own sugar and water syrup and pored over them sealed and cooked in water bath. I started at daylight and ended well after dark.I had no help how many nine years old could that now but miss Julie taught me well and to work. I can ‘t recall how many quarts of peaches I canned but those were good for peach cobblers which I could make as well.I am proud now to Bragg for a job well done for a nine year old gal from the mountains. I feed Mama a bowl of soup but she was to sick to even the soup.
Your stories are so pure, each is a blessing. I am sorry for your loss. No doubt, he was proud of y’all and had profound impact on you all. Just recently found your website(s) and what a treasure. You have a precious, talented, and loving family. Thank you all for sharing! Videos are like visiting my family when that’s no longer possible. The music is hauntingly beautiful in the best of ways. Sometimes we say we miss ‘the times and the places back then’. I think it’s the people we miss. The more we value each other, related or not, and take time to share the simplest of things, a little of our time, a laugh, a smile, it’s like finding springs of happiness in a wilderness. The Bible talks about it in Isaiah. Special peace and blessings to you.
Many years ago pickups in Tennessee had tags rated P for passenger and F for farm. The speed limit was 55 for trucks and 65 for cars. If you had a P tag you could drive 65. When I was about 25 I borrowed a friend’s truck to go to Atlanta. He owned a hardware store so I assumed he had a P tag. I was in South Carolina doing 65 along with the cars and got stopped. When I explained my reasoning the officer said, “Either you’re telling the truth or you’re quick with a story so I’ll just give you a warning if you promise to keep it down to 55.”
Tipper, I had an Uncle Frank too,so I just had to go to the story you told of him in an earlier B.P.A.My Great Uncle Frank sounds oh so familiar to your Uncle Frank, they could have passed for the same person. He would come and visit my Mamaw,his sister, in the summer. I would be out of school, and me and him would keep the roads hot,visiting his old friends,family, and places he’d lived in times past.He never learned how to read or write, but had more than enough good common sense to do well for his family. My Uncle Frank would also haul peaches and watermelons out of Georgia and Florida to resale, and I’m sure he’s run off and left a friend once,or twice. LOL
At the risk of sounding weird, I got a very strong whiff of peach smell while reading this. It lingered.
Speaking of peaches, here’s a true story, sad for sure, but there are two amusing twists at the end: My young son lost his left index finger to a chain and sprocket at a peach-packing shed where local high school kids got summer work. Someone retrieved his finger from under his machine, and he went to the hospital with the finger in his shirt pocket, but it was too damaged to make reattachment possible. When he was grown, with a son of his own, our grandson approached his grandmother once and said, “Meema, did you know my daddy has only nine fingers?” She said, “Yes, I know…but he still made an ‘A’ in typing.” Years afterward, for a joke my son would hit the empty ‘finger’ of a work glove with a hammer and feign terrible pain before showing his hand to bystanders. The groans came before the laughs.
After reading Wanda Devers’ comment I got to wondering how Uncle Frank and his friend might have paid for them peaches. You know, it wasn’t uncommon for people from the mountains to pay in liquid cash, i.e., consumable ethanol.
Peaches, when allow to ripen beyond the point where they can be eaten, start to ferment. If left long enough they can be repurposed into a drinkable liquid. Some of them people down in South Carolina and Georgia where peaches grow best are known to have a craving for just that same liquid. It’s the barter system in action. No cash, no tax!
Well, at least they weren’t hauling moonshine.
Years ago, my brothers traveled around the area to play music, generally for churches. They had lots of good times and usually the churches would have a “dinner on the grounds” meal in their honor. Anyway, Mama and my sister-in-law usually went too in a separate car to help out and enjoy the music & food. Usually they returned pretty late at night. They were stopped by the police late one night. (a similar vehicle was involved in crime!) There sat one middle aged lady and two elderly ones. The officer asked where they had been out so late and my aunt in the back seat replied in a little shaking voice that they had been to church!
I love those old stories, and the people were priceless. Sadly, sometimes those who by today’s standards would be considered poor did not always get a break from law inforcement. In the 1930s a couple of my uncles were hunting and took along a much younger uncle of about 8 years of age. Apparently they were hunting in an area where a mines was missing copper wire. These extremely honest young men were picked up and accused of stealing copper wire. Law enforcement in the small town had no idea what to do with the youngster so locked him up also. They decided to use his young age and innocence to have him verbally involve the older uncles. He loved to tell the story on up until he died about them putting him on the witness stand in an attempt to involve the older boys. He said later at some type of hearing a rep from the courts asked him if he had seen any copper wire. He replied, “Oh yes, lots of it.” Then the next question was, “Where did you see all this wire?” To which young Uncle pointed straight up to the heavens and told them, “That ware was strung on them tall poles goin’ all ‘crost the mountains.” Of course they were let go, and Unk remained proud that he knew what was going on even at that young age. All worked hard all their lives and raised families to be proud of. One actually worked 40 years down under the earth in a coal mines. I love to read your old stories from the past< Tipper, and I hope you keep them coming.
May Pap’s memory be eternal!
Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted. Matthew 5:4
Standing on this verse after the passing of our only son. How much more precious is the Resurrection knowing that our loved ones are there? May you feel comforted too. Especially with your precious memories. Thank you for sharing. God Bless y’all.
You know, Pap had three birthdays. The first was when he was born of a woman. The second when he was born again into the body of Christ. The third was the 19th of April, 2016 when he woke up in heaven. That would make him 5 years old in Earthly terms but there is not need for calendars where Pap is!
So funny – I love family stories!
Now that was a funny story! I laughed and then I read about Uncle Frank and that was very touching. Either we have all had someone like Uncle Frank in our family or knew someone like him. Apparently, your family was blessed to have him in it.
Stories abound and echo off these Appalachian walks. They haunt and tell if what was and how we have come by to live here Nat so’s many a years. Iffen you listen late in the evening on the porch, you might catch one.
Tipper – So sorry for my hurried misspellings. I so enjoy your stories. Here is my thought out version of what I posted a bit ago:
“APPALACHIA
Stories abound and echo off these Appalachian walls, lifted on the gentle breeze from haller tu’ holler. They haunt about and tell of what was and how we’ve come by to live here, so’s many a year ago. Iffen you listen late in the evening, a sittin’ on the porch, you might just catch one in earshot, mixed in amongst the crickets and frogs. Those stories are our heritage. They are our strength. They are our prayers. They are us. We are blessed to be upon this hallow ground.”
The funniest part of the story was that Pap’s friend didn’t like the looks of them birds. At least the men in the big old automobile knew what condintentials meant.
Happy Birthday to Pap in Heaven!
Ever had the thought, ‘I wish I knew now how much I would miss such and such if it was gone so I would appreciate it more’? We can’t do it of course. But that is one of several good reasons to count our blessings. I don’t mean you didn’t. I just mean the absence of something or someone puts a sharp point on its value. Guess that’s why I set iut to make memories for our grandson. Neither of us can even guess now what they will mean in time. But I can guess better than he can.
PRO10:07 The memory of the just is blessed:
A friend who’s a dispatcher for the blue lights in a large city once got a call from a man seeking a “temporarily marriage license.” I wonder if the fool ever found one…. lol.
I love those beautiful old stories, they are real life, and real people!
Happy Birthday Pap…we miss you!
Hmmm…was Frank the one they were looking for? And the reason he took off?
I remember the old days when someone would come by with a load of peaches on a pickup truck. My mother would buy peaches to can and to make “peach butter”……..long time ago…
Don I remember that too when some of the men in E.KY. would drive all the way to GA. They would come back with peaches that they sold by the peck or bushel.