Benjamin Wilson and his mule John
Here’s one for the record books I hope you’ll like it. This all happened back when I was a little tike.
Now I know I’ve told a lot about my neighbors before, and some of the ways they were, well here’s some more.
There was an older couple that lived up the road a piece. They kept to themselves and enjoyed their peace. Peace and quiet that is and peculiar for sure. They’d wear an overcoat in the summertime when darkness begin to stir.
They did all their loafering when dark thirty came and every night the pattern always seem to be the same.
They’d come down the road with their overcoat on. Us young’uns couldn’t help but stare, it was the most strange thing we’d ever known.
Uncle Cicero and Aunt Margaret was their given names, not kin to us but they were uncle and aunt just the same.
And every year Uncle Cicero grew big patches of corn. In the early light of dawn, he’d start plowing every morn.
He’d plow all day and go on home come supper time. The Gee’s and Haw’s would end until the next time.
Well it all started one morning around ten o’clock. We’d been hearing a lot of Gee’s and Haw’s from our playhouse spot. And being kids we didn’t pay much attention to our surroundings and stuff. But that morning the Gee’s and Haw’s grew more than enough.
We all jumped off the bank and ran up the road we wanted to see what all the commotion was about where Uncle Cicero’s corn patch growed.
We all stopped dead in our tracks, Uncle Cicero was on the ground. And that old mule was pulling him through the corn and his overalls were down. They were all the way down to his ankles but he was holding on to that plow. That old mule was going more fast than we ever thought he knew how.
My brothers ran back towards the house to get daddy to come quick. About that time Aunt Margaret came running towards the corn patch with her big walking stick.
She was carrying the walking stick with one hand and waving her apron with the other hand. And between that old mule and Uncle Cicero there wasn’t a stalk of corn left in either row.
Aunt Margaret hollered, “Turn loose of that plow Cicero.” He hollered back, “Nooo I’m not letting this dang mule go. I’m gonna teach him a thing or two, he thinks he’s got me where he wants me, but I ain’t through.”
She hollered back, “He’s gonna kill you Cicero and you’re naked as a jaybird let that old mule go.”
He finally turned loose of the plow about the time daddy got there. Daddy run to help but us kids just stood there. The old mule must have been really tired of pulling Uncle Cicero, he ran towards the barn fast as he could go.
Daddy hollered, “Cicero are you alright?” Uncle Cicero hollered back “I’m gonna kill that dang mule in spite.”
All the time he was trying to get his overalls back in place, he was mumbling a few words not nice to the human race. Then he said, “I want you to just look at this corn. That old mule’s gonna regret the day he was born.”
Aunt Margaret said, “Now Cicero you know you can’t do that.”
All the time she’d been trying straighten out his old hat. He was skinned over from his toes to his head. His old shirt was barely hanging on him by a thread.
Daddy hollered and told us kids to get on back to the house. We’d all been standing there taking it all in quiet as a mouse.
We never did learn what Uncle Cicero did with that old mule. Not too long after that, summer was over and we had to go back to school.
Daddy never did say anything about it anymore, and Uncle Cicero and Aunt Margaret kept on doing like they did before. They’d come down the road with their overcoat on. They were the most peculiar neighbors I’ve ever known.
Of course they sure did make for some fun neighbors once a while, daddy always said with a big smile.
And before you go and judge, just think of this—good neighbors are hard to come by, and these we sure did miss.
Yep, they just packed up and moved one day while we were at school. I still wonder today if by chance they took that old mule.
—Susie Swanson ” Echoes of Time”
I hope you enjoyed Susie’s memories of Uncle Cicero and Aunt Margaret. Susie lived over the mountain from me. I went to school with her son. I miss Susie. She loved our people and culture as much as I do. She was what Pap would call a fine woman.
Last night’s video: Graveyard Mystery: Who’s Maggie?
Subscribe for FREE and get a daily dose of Appalachia in your inbox
My Papa had a mule named Peg. I sure did love Peg. I saved her cookies and goodies and pulled up grass and snuck it to her. I would beg Papa to let me ride her back to the barn when they were done plowing, but he would say “No, she’s tired from plowing all day and ready to eat and rest. ” I would say but she likes me and she will let me ride her. And I held my hand out and she would walk straight to me. Of course she did, she thought I had a treat for her! And my Papa would say “Okay, I guess she wants you to, she went straight to you.” He never knew about the treats I snuck to her…..lol. I hated it when he bought the first Farmall tractor and sold Peg after a while. She was my all time favorite mule we had.
I enjoyed today’s post. We used to have neighbors we called Aunt Martha and Uncle Cordell although they weren’t kin to us. I always wondered if anybody else did that.
Tipper I really enjoyed Maggie’s chapel story, I’m the family grave tender I do the holidays and other meaningful days throughout the year and sometimes I find myself wandering around and wondering about long lives and short lives things written on the stones. Thanks for sharing. Hope the mule made out alright. Hope granny is well, me and her have a birthday coming up, nice to know someone to share it with.
Great post, would welcome more from Susie Swanson.
I’m old enough to remember mules being used regularly. WWII disrupted the supply of relatively inexpensive tractors; so mules and draught horses were in use in the ’40s and ’50s. Shortly after the end of the war, when I was still too young for school, I watched an old black man clear and terrace a lot for building a house with only a mule and some pulled implements, chief among them was a pan for grading.
Tipper, I especially enjoyed the film on Maggie’s Chapel. That kind of on-scene video with local history and your recollections is a form you should cultivate. Well done!
Blessings to all.
We had a big white draft horse named Kate. She was so heavy that all she had to do was lean into a loan and walk off with. She could pull a plow at a walk. She pulled a sled heaped up with firewood, tobacco or manure effortlessly. She wasn’t the best at skidding logs but she managed.
One day Harold and I were skidding logs from back on the mountainside. He was driving Kate back up the hill. She was pulling a singletree and a chain. Unbeknownst to us there was a yellowjacket nest in the ground right where Harold wanted her to go. She walked right into it and they swarmed all over her. Of course she bolted. When she took off Harold yelled “Whoa” and pulled back hard on the plow lines. Kate reacted instantly but she couldn’t stop instantly. Her forward motion carried her far enough that she pulled Harold right into that swarm. He was so intent on getting her stopped that he didn’t even notice the yellowjackets before they covered him up. By the time he did they were all over him and even inside his clothes. So now here he is, trying to hold back a 1400 pound animal while trying to ward off a thousand tiny demons. He was swatting and trying to get out of his clothes onehanded!
What was I doing through all this? What do you think? I was laughing my rump off! After I finally controlled myself I yelled “Let her go, I’ll catch her!”, which he finally did. Kate never moved. Either the bees all honed in on Harold or Kate realized she wasn’t going to let a few tiny insects ruin her day. She stood there until I walked around, out of the range of those little devils, and let her away by her bridle.
I tied Kate up away from danger and went to help Harold get out of his clothes and turn them wrong side out. He only got stung about 60 times. It didn’t seem to effect him much other than the embarrassment having to strip off naked. We didn’t find any stings on Kate except a few on her face and around her eyes.
I was the only one really hurt in this ordeal. I had sore ribs from laughing so much.
Ed, the story about the yellow jackets is real funny unless it’s you getting ate up by the yellow jackets. I have had my times to laugh too. This is one of the reasons grandaddy would tell me to never wrap the plow lines around my wrist or hang them around my neck. I never plowed a mule, only watched grandaddy and a few neighbors, but there has been many times I have got into a nest while using a tractor, I don’t know which is worst trying to hang onto a mule or trying to stop a tractor and get away from the bees at same time.
That is a beautiful post. I’ve known people to wear a coat in the day makes a body wonder.
We owned a horse but not a mule. But my first cousin did and he was a sight. Both of em.He bame was ole Pete. My husband and I was up there one day and Frank my cousin was plowing with ole Pete. Frank drank a bit and he was under the influence as you would say. He made a few back and forth rounds and something happened. I don’t know what but all of a sudden Ole Pete took off pulling Frank right behind him. Finally Frank let go. I was bent over couldn’t stop laughing. I bout busted a gut. I’ll never forget that days long as I live.
“They’d come down the road with their overcoat on”! When I read this I was reminded of the story of the old couple who couldn’t eat at the same time. Neither of them had any teeth but they could only afford one set of dentures. Was this the case with Cicero and Margaret and “their” overcoat? Did they take turns or did they both manage to get in it?
amazing story it was so cleverly written as well must have been interesting people have a great weekend everyone
I remember from my childhood standing on my Grandparents’ porch in NE MS and hearing the cadence sound of a dear old fellow yelling Gees and Haws to his mule as they worked clearing a piece of ground up the hill. First time I had ever seen or heard that type of work, but even though I was little it fascinated me. Your story had me laugh out loud as I could visualize the unfolding scene. I knew the man could have really been hurt but thankfully wasn’t. I also felt for the mule and hoped he wasn’t hurt in all the commotion. The dear wife, bless her heart, sure did have the best sense of the whole ordeal.
Tipper, the video you did on Maggie’s Chapel was like stepping back in time to old pioneer churches in NE MS that I have visited since childhood. Maggie’s Chapel looks pristine and still has people living nearby even though you could only hear the sound of possibly a car off in the distance. Many of the old pioneer churches with cemeteries that I visit are surrounded by forests now and the people have moved away. In one of those old cemeteries, my third Great-grandfather is buried with just dates 1771 -1844 on his headstone and the story my Mother told me that had been passed down was that he had rode his horse up on that hill and told his family that was the most peaceful setting and is where he wanted to be buried. That piece of ground had been given for a chapel to be built and it was called Kennedy’s Chapel. Like so many at that time in the early 1830’s, Circuit Preachers would ride from church to church. Such good, strong in faith and determined people.
Grandpa had two mules, Kate & Jack. I remember Daddy plowing the garden and the cotton with them. They were generally friendly but when Daddy tried to put my brother up on one of them the mule bucked him off. My uncle had a mule named Roady that was retired into pasture. My brother rode his bicycle in the pasture & Roady took off after him. Brother was yelling Gee and Haw hoping that Roady would turn. Brother is still with us so he escaped somehow. This is the same brother who got chased by the huge sow! He’s still accident prone.
It sounds like Uncle Cicero, not the mule, was the stubborn one in that funny story.
Great story. Stubborn meets stubborn . What is loafering?
Pat-glad you enjoyed it! Loafer is another way of saying you’re going to get out and see what’s happening but don’t have a particular schedule to stick too. You might stop at the store or drop by and visit with someone or ride around and look at the mountains 🙂
Loafering in wandering aimlessly about looking for nothing to do. Kinda like loafing except loafing is generally done in one location. Loafering requires more effort and if you don’t pay attention you might actually do something.
My grandfather had a good mule. My father used to plow with that mule when he was a teenager. Like I said, that old mule was a good one, but he was, after all, still a mule. One day he and my father just weren’t gee and hawing at all. Well, dad finally had enough and hit that mule right square on the nose with his right fist. I don’t know if he changed the mules mind at all, but he did break his hand. My grandfather liked to tell folks that story, but my father didn’t care to hear it.
That was a great story! Can you imagine being caught with your britches down because of a cantankerous ol mule? lol Have a blessed day folks!
Funny story. I was seventeen years old when my maternal granddaddy died. For 15 years it was him, his mule “Kate”, and me. If I was not in school, I tried to be with him. Kate had been badly beaten by her previous owners because she was not big or strong enough to pull logs at a sawmill. Grandaddy won back her trust . Grandaddy and Kate loved one another and he cried like a baby when Kate died. I can still hear him fussing at her for biting off the top of a corn stalk when he was plowing his corn. She was bad to do this unless he put a muzzle on her. One thing he always told me, was to never wrap the plows lines around your wrist or hang them around your neck. If the mule ‘spooked” they could drag you to death. When grandmother would ring her dinner bell to come eat, Kate would stop where she was at and refuse to move until you unhooked the plow, she knew it was break time and she was going to the house to eat and get water. One of the maddest times I ever saw my daddy was when he tried to pull a cedar tree post I had cut to hang a basketball goal on with Kate, she went crazy, broke loose and ran back to her stall in the barn. Daddy was mad enough to kill her until he got to to the barn and saw Kate trembling, he was still mad but not at Kate, I remember him telling me “son anyone that would be beat an animal so bad they remember it all of their life should be beat just as bad”. He was an easy going man, but he would have been very happy to be the one to beat those people. If you ever have the opportunity to talk to older people that lived and worked with mules, you will hear not only funny stories but some serious ones too.
I could just see old Cicero scratched up, skinned up and his rear end shining like a double full moon! I can see the mule too wandering about in confusion and just what was going on! Can’t you see the kids looking and listening with eyes as big as golf balls taking in all their little eyes and ears had probably never witnessed before. And I will be the first to admit that must have been one ugly sight of chaos! Lol I will gladly admit all the best neighbors are quiet and keep to themselves throwing up the occasional hand and a warm smile. I’d like to think we would help each other if the need arose. My nephew walked outside as a teen and kept hearing “HELP!” He couldn’t figure it out but followed it to find an elderly neighbor down in the ice. Her pants had come down as she kept trying to gain footing but could not. He called my brother to bring 2 more sons and they got her up and warmed at my brother’s house while they called paramedics. To this day she calls Corey ( my nephew whose twin sister is Courtney) her angel God sent to save her from freezing to death. Neighbors are heaven sent and sometimes hell sent I think.
Thanks for a great story. I was in my garden yesterday getting in my first planting of arsh taters. My goal each year is to scratch up some for Mothers Day. We got up to 83 yesterday and forecast the same for today. My berry and fruit trees are starting to bloom, Mr Frost will probably get them.
What a great story! I love anything having to do with mules. I’m glad this story has been preseved.
Wonderful ditty for sure…Thanks for sharing