ol remus and the woodpile report

ol remus has a few words for you

wanted poster

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Been a while since ol' Remus told you a story so let's give the crisis du jour a rest and consider the strange case of

Karl the spy

Ol' Remus got a visit from a newspaper reporter the other day, a fellow from the Megaville Star-Observer-Dispatch-Examiner, "Est. 1842, 1868, 1877 and 1906". Seems this newsguy was writing an obituary for Karl Dillinger (no relation) from down the hollow and he noticed ol' Karl had a colorful past. He'd discovered this 'colorful past' may have had something to do with his demise. The reporter, name of George Eureaux, was a thin guy in his early thirties, thin and fidgety, but fit in an urban sort of way. Remus marked him down as a born flatlander right off.

"Mr. Marsilvia," he began, "what can you tell me about Karl Dillinger?"

"It's Remus, to start with. Karl Dillinger. Yes. Well, we went to school together, played ball on Stubb's team. He was a catcher. Good one too, nobody stole second offen him. Then he got a nice section up the hollow. Used a one-lung Oliver. Took up government work after that an we kept in touch. That's about it."

George tapped his pencil on his lower lip and regarded Remus with an appraising eye. Finally, "Did you know that Karl was CIA?"

"CIA? You mean Caught In Action? Ol' Karl always was a lady's man," says Remus with a chuckle, "Karl was what they call adoptable, had kind of a hound-doggy way about him—"

"Mr. Marsilvia, ah, Remus ...," says George in that patient way of folks who get sandbagged a lot in their line of work.

"No no, it's okay," sez Remus, "Yes, he was career CIA. Worked the Martinique desk. Communist government back then, you see. They have a rainwater collection system down there, a whole hillside faced off with concrete, got big drains at the bottom. Standard stuff in the Caribbean, rains near every day, but it was a communist water system so we had to keep an eye on it, so Karl said. They's conscientious over at CIA 'bout that sort of thing."

"I'm sure he did a fine job.” Long pause. Then, leaning forward in the conspiratorial way of insurance agents, “Now, this is a little delicate. I have information he was, well may have been, that is, he was suspected of being a double agent." George sat back to watch the reaction, hands templed.

"No suspected to it. He was a double agent, an' a good one too, an' any man says otherwise can go straight—"

"You knew he was a double agent?"

"Knew? Sure I knew. Ever body knew. We're pretty proud of Karl, folks all up and down the hollow, they's all proud of Karl. Ain't jes enny body gets to be a double agent. Folks work there all their life an' never get to be a double agent, just a regular agent. An his folks thinkin' he'd never amount to anything. He showed them, ol' Karl did.”

“But,” interrupts George, looking perplexed, “you do know what being a double agent means—that he was selling out his country?”

"Son, let me explain something,” says Remus, tapping the dottle from his pipe. “Double Agent is a position at CIA like everything else, it's got a job description an' a GS rating an' a retirement plan. Started back in the war when ol' man Canaris over at SD made a three-way deal with OSS and SIS at Bletchly Park. You know the Germans, efficient and such, they figured to save everybody a lot of trouble and money and stop holding up the war. They came up with the so-called UFO deal, meaning Ultra For Overlord. It was a straightup trade, Enigma for the D-Day Order of Battle. Ever since then, especially after Stella Polaris, these trades been regularized. And like anything regularized it's gotta be administered. So there's where your Double Agents come in.”

“But how could he be proud of it? I mean, the KGB fer cryin' out loud.”

Remus packed his pipe, fired it up, tamped it down with his fingertip and relit it. Now, ol' Remus has this pipe-lighting thing down. He tilts his head a bit to one side and squints with one eye while taking the first draw. Non-pipe smokers take lighting a pipe to be an esoteric ritual an' unfailingly take a pause themselves. Gives him time to think. And think he must, ol' George had a ways to go jes to get to Square One.

“Well now, Double Agent's a mighty competitive position,” he began, “on account there were only so many slots open for KGB. Most folks settled for the DGI outta Cuba or MSS outta China, lotta double agent work to be had there, an' they's good career-builders, don't get me wrong. But KGB, those folks was pretty picky with their contracts, one year with another, they was the gold standard, the name brand of which there was no whicher, so they could cherry-pick all day long.”

“How do you mean, contracts ?”

“CIA farmed out Ol' Karl and a few others as contract workers to KGB. See, twice a year there's this big meeting—in Brussels of late—where all the agencies bring abstracts of secret documents and bid on each other's stuff. Rules are you can't buy ‘em then and there, you gotta lease an agent and have 'em steal it, for cash flow and deniability you see. It's not complicated George, just a big clearing house so nobody gets stiffed, like a medieval gild, it keeps the freelancers and low-ballers out of the trade, well, them and the Norks."

Remus continued, "KGB was the prestige outfit at the time, lotta hagglin' goin' on, ROI was a religion to 'em [chuckle]. Like everybody else, they wanted mostly industrial stuff, there's no money in military secrets any more, can't hardly give ‘em away, onliest folks that trade in ‘em are Presidents and Premiers—they exchange 'em like party favors.”

George was looking dubious but Remus pressed on, “Ol' Karl would sign out the documents to be stolen, make copies, then take a mess of connecting flights on his way to the drop so's to shake any tails. He near got caught once while changing planes in Mexico City but the guy was a little late making it to the gate on account of a class trip clogging up the concourse. Those things happen. Anyway, after two days traveling he met up with his contact at Langley and …”

“Langley!? What were all the flights for?”

“… and he met his contact right there at his own desk, at the appointed time too. That'd be Karl. The flights? Standard procedure. Spycraft got its traditions you know. They're professionals. They got rules. Anyway, Karl worked at the double agenting trade for most of ten years. Next step up from Double Agent was Mole, but that takes seniority, well, unless yer titled nobility. They're grandfathered in. Back in the day, KGB usta contract for two or three Moles a year, but they had to cut back. Pity. CIA was in a bad way too, they really needed the money."

Remus poured out two cups of Earl Grey and set out a dish of scripture cake. Lookin' out the window he noticed the breeze was steadying up and the bottoms of the leaves were showin'. Rain fer sure.

"An' pore ol' Karl," Remus continued, "when he retired he'd been eligible for Mole more'n a year. Time was they'da snapped him up. As it was he had enough time in to retire at Mole Grade. That's how he introduced himself, say, when he was doin' a show-an'-tell for Miss Alde's fifth grade cryptology class or holdin' forth down ol' Stubb's Notions & Necessities Emporium.”

George was gettin squirmy now. Was he being had? He knew these hill folk were crafty sorts and would go to almost any length to protect one of their own. Even the deceased. But still.

Remus took no obvious notice of George's discomfort. “We threw him a big retirement party," he continued, "we never figured ol' Karl would be such a success, we figured he'd top out as Double Agent under contract with DGSE outta France, an' there's nothin' wrong with that, they's the go-to folks in IE any more, an' what with Martinique bein' French an' all, but ol' Karl was a traditionalist and wouldn't settle for nothin less than KGB.”

Later, as George was white-knuckle driving down the twisty, lane-and-three-quarters-wide road from Remus's house, said road bein' all but vertical, he was reconsidering chasing the story at all. Not because he believed it was a charade. Not quite anyway. Yes, he knew CIA and KGB had traded intel, even cooperated on third-party operations. No, it was more about working six months of long days and longer weeks, minimum, and then with only a lot of anonymous quotes and off-the-record background stuff to show for it.

And now he was thinking, with this Remus guy, am I all that sure Karl was a double agent? Was Karl even CIA? At all. Ever? I mean—Dillinger? What kind of spy would be named Dillinger-no-relation?

Aargh! Hill folk are exasperating. They'll answer any question I ask, without evasion or guile, but I always end up knowing less than when I started. What they're really saying is perfectly clear to each other mind you, it's a clear case of silent semiotics—the things that make it understandable pass between 'em unsaid. But for outsiders, well, as Daddy usta say, you can't find what you're not looking for. And there's no use analyzing what they say, documenting chaos doesn't create order no matter how good a job you make of it.

As George drove on, Remus's parting words kept coming back to him, “If you notice George, ever since Venona the news services only run a double agent story every three or four years, the cold war bein' over an' all. Hardly any call for 'em. But who knows, maybe things will open up at the news services when their contract with CIA is up for renewal. Good luck to you. Mind the curves. Let me know if I can help.”

George decided to run Karl's obituary and, for the time being, let it go at that.

Later that afternoon.
Ol' Remus was right, it did rain. He and a couple neighbors had been obliged to set a while rather than walk the tree line like they'd intended.

"Heard there was a reporter fellow out visiting earlier," says ol' Marv.

"You heard right Marv," says Remus, "fellow name of George, come out from Megaville, an full of questions about ol' Karl he was too. Well now, a body shouldn't be surprised, him bein a reporter an all. Nice enough fellow, but he didn't seem to know a whole lot about anything. I set him straight as best I could. Had a lot of odd ideas he did, but then you know how flatlanders can be." All leaned back in agreement. Flatlanders was odd, how they nibble round the edges of things, never come right out with what's really on their mind, almost as if they want to leave a person guessing. There's jes no figuring 'em, ain't no use trying.

"Karl's old line of work gives rise to rumors," says Marv, "it's natural enough."

"You got that right," says Karl. "Hah! Even a rumor goin 'round that I'm among the deceased. Some have it that I was bumped off by a Foreign Power."

Remus took another bite of ash cake. Then, "Ol' George never mentioned it so I didn't either. I jes answered his questions an let it go at that."

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The run

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The creek, upper end. An undercut half its width..

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The creek, down a ways

These pictures show the creek a while ago, late in the afternoon, quiet after days of rain.

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This just in

China finally says it: replace the dollar with a "super-sovereign" currency.

Why China is paying top dollar for commodities.

Signs of deflation. Maybe hyper-deflation.

Think survivalist bloggers are needlessly paranoid? See this and this

Spin economics as far as the eye can see.

Obama's openly biased Supreme Court nominee overturned. Again.

Amnesty for illegals - it's back.

They're almost here, those California IOUs. Can't pay the bills.

Video: Artur Rubenstein plays Chopin, 1950.

A four-year degree isn't worth it, intellectually or financially.

That FDR-style bank holiday rumor is making the rounds.

Break time video: A Southern gal, a little gasoline and a big rifle.

Think an economy car will save you money? Think again.

EPA scientist told to shut up about global warming.

How global warming fanatics keep "settled science" settled.

Stanislav Mishin's comments on their "settled science".

Chart - what it takes to fire an inept teacher. Amazing.

Smoky Mountain synchronized fireflies, article and video. Fascinating.

The downside of bugging out.

Now they say the financial crisis is America's top security threat.

Preparing for civil unrest - about what's coming.

What you need to know about cast iron cookware.

The Jefferson-Hemings rumor, re-reexamined.

Transcripts of Moslem jihadist's chatter during their killing spree in India.

How they revived frozen 120,000 year old bacterium (very carefully)

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breaking eyewitness opinion

Anything goes

"With ever-expanding legislation and billion-dollar lawsuits, the anti-smoking campaign has become the template for junk-science lobbying and courtroom carpetbagging on a whole raft of issues." Here's a quick history of anti-smoking campaigns and how the politics of the hidden agenda work. Read Rob Lyons's review of Christopher Snowdon's book, Velvet Glove, Iron Fist at Spiked, here.

Manual Work

Quote, "Skilled manual labor is far more cognitive than people realize and deserves more respect," and, "Smart guys have been dumping their office jobs in favor of getting their hands dirty at least since Cincinnatus twice resigned the job of Roman dictator for that of dirt farmer. The trouble is, more people still want to be Roman dictator than dirt farmer." Read Carolyn Mooney's article, A Hands-On Philosopher Argues for a Fresh Vision of Manual Work, at The Chronicle Review, here.

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stuff you may want to think about

Revolution

A fellow name of Bill Buppert put up a link over at Survival Blog to a video by fin-tastic on Sevenload entitled The Four Stages of Revolution, part one and part two. Ol' Remus sees 'em as thoughtful entertainment, if overly romanticized (reality here). He also finds fin-tastic's "big tent" of heroes and villains to be puzzling, some are a bit silly. Remus told you in the last issue what he thinks about insurrection, unwarranted namely, although he understands the rage of folks experiencing hard times and low-viscosity politics for the first time.

Canning butter

Kellene Bishop over at Preparedness Pro has a how-to article on canning butter, clear and complete, as is her way. Miss Kellene has put us on to many good things and never steered us wrong. If you value well-written, practical information with the authority only doing confers, she belongs on your short list of go-to sites.

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overheard

Ol' Remus overhears too much so he passes it on to you compressed for length or clarity as it pleases him. He does this routinely, without remorse or apology, and expects the same courtesy from others.

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Socialist solidarity - "U.S. President Barack Obama said on Monday the coup that ousted Honduran President Manuel Zelaya was illegal and would set a "terrible precedent" of transition by military force unless it was reversed. "We believe that the coup was not legal and that President Zelaya remains the president of Honduras, the democratically elected president there."
Mohammed-Alexander, Reuters

Bullets and bullion - "Small-denomination bullion is hard to come by and gun sales are way up, but finding out first-hand that this stuff is unavailable brings home the reality of the situation, which is that the social mood is growing darker. On the surface everything looks normal ... but the market is quietly reallocating resources as individuals insure against a systemic breakdown."
John Rubino, Dollar Collapse

"There is absolutely no comparison to be made between the current economic collapse in the U.S. and any other economic event of the last century – including the “Great Depression”. U.S. housing prices are falling more than three times as fast as during the worst of the Great Depression, while debt levels are at least ten times greater (for both individuals and governments)."
Jeff Nielson, InstaBlog, Seeking Alpha

"It should be obvious by now that “the law” is simply a place where leftists/statists make Very Important Social Statements, nothing more. The actual rules of the game are whatever the vermin politicians in charge happen to want to enforce this week."
"scott", comment at Eternity Road

"If America is circling the drain, Goldman Sachs has found a way to be that drain."
Matt Taibbi, The Something Awful Forums

"A 2006 report co-sponsored by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York and the National Academy of Sciences concluded that even defining systemic risk was beyond the scope of any existing economic theory. Actually managing such a thing would be harder still, if only because the number of contingencies that a systemic risk model must anticipate grows exponentially with the connectivity of the system."
Duncan Watts, Boston Globe

Deflation as a black swan - "Inflation has until today, like home prices rises prior to 2005, not significantly reversed since nearly a lifetime ago. As with the reversal of fortune in real estate, an event's rarity should not be confused with impossibility. A prudent person might keep the possibility of a credit collapse deflation on the radar screen. Should the conventional wisdom be in error, the consequences of an historic deflation do not invite casual disregard."
David Calderwood, LewRockwell.com

Deflation - "Government is the only one increasing spending. The fact that nominal GDP is still falling tells us that the private sector is trying to save more than government is deficit spending, which is deflationary, not inflationary. Banks are hoarding $1 trillion of cash on their balance sheets. Companies are in cash conservation mode and stripping down inventories, headcounts, and reducing capital spending. Households are saving and building exposure to near cash instruments."
Marshall Auerback, New Deal 2.0

"Over the last several weeks, the USDA has been releasing what can only be described as bearish propaganda about global grain inventories. It is overestimating global wheat production by at least 35 million tons. There is NO WAY such a large “mistake” is an accident. This is clear evidence of wheat manipulation. What is worst, the USDA is obviously complicit in this effort to suppress commodity prices. Despite these manipulative efforts, nothing has changed. Droughts, under planting, and lack of credit have devastated global agriculture."
Eric deCarbonnel, Market Skeptics

Michael being Michael - "At best, we have mixed feelings about the passing of Michael Jackson. His ability to entertain his fans with his music is beyond dispute. His ability to allow his personal demons destroy him, destroy his career, is also beyond dispute. His life was cut short by his own crappy choices. So be it."
T. Treat and/or P.Crowley, Politically Incorrect Gazette (PIGazette)

Michael who? - "I never took the slightest interest in Michael Jackson, other than to be instinctively repelled by him or just indifferent; I actually don't remember which. According to what people are saying about him, he was one of the outstanding creative figures of our time, even a cultural titan on the level of Mozart ... As for me, the idea that millions of people took this plastic-surgery-tranformed freak seriously and cared deeply about him is what hits me as "an American tragedy."
Lawrence Auster, View From The Right

Michael - "Am I missing something here? I keep hearing about his talent and his gentle soul and how so many will miss him so much. The poor guy was, to be blunt about it, a train wreck and there is a fair amount of evidence that points to some really inappropriate behavior with children."
Kathy Harrison, The Just In Case Book Blog

Hard-earned approval - "Ninety-six percent of African-Americans approve of how Obama is handling his presidency, according to a CNN/Essence Magazine/Opinion Research Corp. poll released Thursday."
CNN Politics

Fannie Mae, Freddie Mac 'asked' to relax lending rules. Again. - "In a letter to the CEO's of both companies, Representatives Barney Frank, the chairman of the House Financial Services Committee, and Anthony Weiner ... asked the companies to "make appropriate adjustments" to their underwriting standards for condos."
Chakradhar Adusumilli, Reuters

Diversity - "At some point we Californians should ask ourselves, how we inherited a state with near perfect weather, the world's richest agriculture, plentiful timber, minerals, and oil, two great ports at Los Angeles and Oakland, a natural tourist industry from Carmel to Yosemite, industries such as Silicon Valley, Hollywood, and aerospace—and serially managed to turn all of that into the nation's largest penal system, periodic near bankruptcy, and sky-high taxes." [At some point-?!]
Victor Hanson, National Review

"No person can know the motive of another, it must be inferred within degrees of probability. The intent of President Obama, those who put him in office, and those who do his bidding, appears to be the collapse of both our economy and civil society. It's the one motive that fits the actions of the Federal establishment across the board."
Ol' Remus, Woodpile Report

"There is reportedly a million-house overhang in the market nationwide. But misguided attempts by government are keeping home prices from correcting to affordable levels. "If an investor could purchase a home and rent it out for close to breakeven," real-estate broker Mike Morgan writes in Barron's, "we might be getting close to the bottom. But we are nowhere close to that level in most critical markets."
Misis, The Market Oracle

Food - "For agriculture, as for energy, two decades of declining real prices have led to huge underinvestment that is now being revealed by relentless demand pressures. In 2008, the world's urban population equalled the rural for the first time in human history. China also became a net food importer for the first time ever. Overall, world food supply and demand remain precariously balanced. A variety of factors point to serious food shortages emerging over the next decade."
Dead Cats Bouncing

Ug99 wheat stem rust - "One of the alarming hallmarks of Ug99 is that in Kenya it has mutated and overcome two additional major stem rust resistance genes called Sr24 and Sr36 that had been effective against the original form of Ug99."
Prism Webcast News, hat tip: survival blog

"Progress in science needs researchers who are not afraid – or who are encouraged and rewarded – to ask awkward and difficult questions of theory and of new data. It is easier to question mainstream views if you are independently wealthy, as many scientists in previous ages tended to be. But I wonder how many of us would do so if we were employed by the state and our career progression depended on the validation of our peers?"
Ehsan Masood, Guardian Science Blog UK

"160,000 tons of gold has ever been mined from the face of this planet and at US$950 per ounce, it is worth US$4.9 trillion. Now, consider that the total amount of paper money in circulation (currencies, savings, deposits, money-markets and CDs) is worth US$60 trillion or approximately twelve times the value of the gold in existence."
Puru Saxena, Daily Reckoning

Progressives - "Technology may progress over the centuries, but the morality of man's actions is not thereby assured; in fact, it may easily and rapidly retrogress. It does not take centuries for men to learn to plunder and kill one another, or to reach out for coercive power over their fellows. There are always men willing to do so."
Murray Rothbard, Clichés of Socialism, The Freeman, via von Mises

H1N1 flu - "We are estimating about a million people in the U.S. or more have gotten this virus at a time of year when people really aren't continuing to get the seasonal influenza viruses. A big question that everybody really has is what kind of illness, hospitalization and deaths will we see when our winter flu season begins?"
Anne Schuchat, U.S. Centers for Disease Control, via Julie Steenhuysen, Reuters

Cap and trade - "Eessentially, instead of responding to environmental stress with real solutions (a push to create local resiliency) we get another big rip-off that will line the pockets of global banksters."
John Robb, Global Guerillas

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Poster from World War II

Treasury Department poster. The year is unreadable.

World War II poster, Treasury Dept.

If y'can't scare 'em—shame 'em.

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Cousin Ethan
Obama and the unions

The Socialists took over the Democratic Party in two simple steps, first by infiltrating the various unions that supported the Democratic Party and secondly by using these unions to support candidates in local, state and federal elections that further their agenda.

Eventually these steps reached the intended goal of filling positions holding enough power to elicit radical changes. The U.S is now witnessing these changes. As dire as this may sound to conservatives it gets worse. The changes enacted through their newly acquired power allows for the funding of special interest groups directly with U.S tax dollars. ACORN for example is a special interest group framed as ”community organizers” and was recently awarded 5 billion U.S tax dollars. Five Billion dollars is enough to outright purchase a small country, however it is my belief that it will be used to “organize” a large one—this one.

Government sponsored special interest groups are much more useful minions. Unions share enough stake in the corporate interests, such as free markets and capitalism to render them a hindrance towards achieving a true Socialist objective. Government sponsored special interest groups, already dependant upon the government for their livelihood have been given a much broader role. In short, the unions must go. “Breaking the unions” would be a nearly impossible task and a drastic mistake at this point. Most union members being oblivious to the agenda and concentrating on their own self interests will still be needed as a support vehicle in future elections. Breaking the unions will be done clandestinely with full union support under the guise of “a failed capitalist system” as evidenced by the protection of the UAW before unsubordinated bondholders in the bailout of GM.

Watch for the UAW to be rendered financially “unsustainable” and brought into government service to ‘stem a crisis' and remain to be subsidized, contracts intact, by tax dollars. I believe this will be observed soon as the only “viable” solution when states start going bankrupt and are not “bailed out” by the federal government. Some states will go bankrupt before, and others because of rapidly declining interest for foreign investment in the U.S dollar.

Why do we need a government run auto industry? Two reasons, the first being that the union demands along with government regulation have made it impossible for the industry to be run privately and produce a profit. Secondly, the fact that the auto industry; with its broad local manufacturing base will be needed should a major war break out. Retooling takes less time and money than creating an entire industry from scratch. In short, it would be in the best interest of National Security to simply have it “available”.

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It's just the way it was

Not much information with these, but they're great photos. Enjoy.

1936-tennessee-church
Storefront church in Tennessee, 1936

1936-Shady-Grove-Baptist-Church-Alabama-or-Tennessee
Shady Grove Baptist Church, Alabama or Tennessee, 1936

1936-Shady-Grove-Baptist-Church-Alabama-or-Tennessee-interior
Interior, Shady Grove Baptist Church, Alabama or Tennessee. 1936

There's a Shady Grove in both Alabama and Tennessee so the mystery remains. However, there are eight Shady Grove Baptist Churches in Alabama and only one in Tennessee. But, the one in Tennessee looks very much like the one in this picture, except with a porch added. However, the grounds look quite different and the windows aren't right.

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stories from outten the hills

Cousin Ezekiel

My Son Victor

Introduction

Zeke reached over from his easy chair, put a dollop of cavendish in the new pipe that his cousin Remus gave him for a birthday present, shifted in his chair for that perfect comfortable position needed to start a long story, and after several wiggles and adjustments of his fedora to make sure all of his now long grey hair was in it, began:

“My son Victor is my youngest boy an' our youngest child. Me an' Aby wanted more than five chillun, but we got only five. Folks suggested we have us both checked to see which one weren't doin' their job, but we both knew we was doin' our best and it wouldn't matter which one was at fault, cuz we couldn't have no more together, so it didn' matter which one was failin'. We first had the twins Ebill an' Zoe, then Enos whats died at nineteen years old, then Felice, then Victor. Victor is an active boy whats don' like to sit much, so he never learned like Enos did, whats could sit an' study all day.

He liked his brothers an' sisters same as all my chillun did, but bein' the youngest he was left outta lotta their activities, bein' they was older an' into their own goin' on's, … or is it goin's on? Anyway, Victor was jest a lil younger than Felice, but Felice liked housework … you know, cookin', crocheting, makin' clothes an' stuff like that. That stuff weren't for Victor, cuz he was all boy. He wanted to play sports, flirt with girls, an' drive a car to Megaville to drink with his friends.

One of Victor's best friends is his cousin Jab, Josh's first born who was a couple year older than Victor. You remember Josh. He is my cousin an' was my best friend until he died few year after Enos did. Well, Jab is the same height as Josh was. Yup, short. We always never asked how tall Josh was, cuz when we was young in Miss Alde's school one of the kids asked an' then one of the other kids said, ‘They don' make rulers small nuff to measure his height.' I twisted that kids ear, but Josh was already embarrassed. I never knew why short folks was embarrassed when tall folks ain't. Seems bein' short ain't no way to judge folks … specially seein' tall folks was short at one time, an' lookin' at the accomplishments of all them short Chinese an' Japanese whats doin' so well, an' rememberin' Einstein, Napoleon an' St. Peter was all short, an' now when we got a food shortage it's best to have a economically efficient lil body over a big one like mine.

Victor knew there weren't nuttin wrong with bein' short an' jest saw a good friend in Jab. Victor was jest six foot tall … much shorter than me whats six foot eight, or Ebill whats jest seven foot or Enos what was seven foot eight, but taller than Zoe an' Felice whats is jest five an' one half feet tall. Victor's weight was jest two hundred pound, which was the same as skinny Enos' weight but nowhere near Ebill's three hundred twenty pounds of meat or my two hundred seventy pounds of Aby's fine cooking”, as Zeke grabs a fold in his stomach to shake, chuckling.

“I will start my story ‘bout Victor when he started in Miss Alde's school, cuz that's where the trouble began. You see, back then Victor had the energy of an avalanche, the brains of a creek pebble, an' the attention span of a fruit fly.”

. . . . .

My Son Victor - Chapter I of XVI

The Start of Trouble

Aby is trying to hold Victor still while she pulls his knit cap over his ears to keep them warm this cold morning. “Hold Victor's hand until he gets to school, Felice, or he will run off trying to catch a leaf or a critter or anything moving. Do you promise?”

“Yes, Mommy”, says Felice, obviously not liking this job of caring for Victor every day to and from school.”

Victor runs over to pet Mrs. Hector and her son Phoenix , the family pet pigs. Felice looks at Aby. “We weren't even out of the house and he ran away. You know I can't catch him when he runs”, says the chubby Felice, ready to cry at the burden her mother is putting on her.

Aby hollers, “Victor. When you get back home I will ask Felice how you behaved. If she says you were bad you will not get desert tonight.”

“What are we having for desert?” hollers Victor.

“We will be having strawberries on Angel Food Cake. You will be having pig poop pie if you don't behave”, hollers Aby.

Victor runs back from the pig pen and takes Felice's hand. Aby watches them walk down the road until they are out of sight, shakes her head and goes back into the cabin wishing the older children didn't start school an hour earlier and stay an hour later or she would have Ebill and Zoe watch Victor.

-.-.-.-

“Get back in your seat, young man”, says Alde Long, the school marm who has unbelievable patience with children.

Victor walks back to his seat past the other children who are looking down so as to pretend they don't know him or they might get in trouble too. Only Jab is looking at Victor and smiling. When Victor waves to him Jab looks down with a straight face as the others. All of the other children know they are in trouble when Miss Alde addresses them as “young Man” or “young Lady”. Victor, however, had heard himself called “young Man” so many times he thinks that is just a nickname the teacher gave him. It had no effect on him other than to make him smile when he heard it, thus making Miss Alde all the more frustrated.

“Why are you drawing pictures of Buck Rogers space ships when you is spo'sta be solvin' the arithmetic problems, Victor? This is your final exam. Do you realize you ain't learned hardly no arithmetic for the whole year? ” asks Miss Alde.

“Drawing spaceships is more fun to do, Miss Alde.”

“You are – supposed – to be doing – arithmetic, - SIR! ”

“But I don't need arithmetic to draw spaceships, Miss Alde.”

“You need arithmetic to solve problems in science. Everybody has to learn arithmetic to solve problems … even everyday problems.”

“Momma doesn't need arithmetic. She runs the house and doesn't need arithmetic to do the wash, cook, clean or make lunches.”

“You need arithmetic to solve science problems, Victor. Your momma doesn't have to solve science problems.”

“Uncle Bill doesn't have to solve science problems. He has people he pays to solve them for him.”

“Bill McMullen is rich, Victor. He can afford to hire people to solve some of his problems, but he has to know arithmetic to count his money and calculate the interest he can earn on his investments. Unless you know you will be rich you will need to know arithmetic.”

“I'll try to be rich then, Miss Alde.”

“In the meantime please try to learn arithmetic jest in case you don't become rich, okay Victor?”

“Okay, Miss Alde”, as Victor continues drawing his spaceship.

-.-.-.-

“Thank ya for seein' me, Aby”, says Alde Long as she comes into Aby's cabin.

“How do you like the Ford Model “A”, Miss Alde?” asks Aby.

“It's a wonderful car, Aby, but it makes it harder to do what it brought me here for. You see, Aby, your son Victor has me at my wits end. He is a smart lil boy but he don' even try to learn. He's got no interest in learnin' at all. He jest draws space ships, talks to the other chillun, an' daydreams. I told him he won't go on to the next grade iff'n he did'n learn his lessons. Well, he did'n. I gotta fail him so he repeats the first grade again. Sorry, Aby. I hate to have to drive my nice Model “A” whats Zeke sold me for only a dollar to give you bad news. It ain't like Victor is stupid. He ain't even lazy, cuz his mind is goin a mile a minute … jest in the wrong way.”

“I imagine Victor will be crying now”, says Aby.

“That's one of the other worse things I gotta tells ya ‘bout, Aby. Most chillun crys when they fails, cuz they know their friends is goin' on without em. Not Victor. He was happy . Said he will have new friends to show around. Now that's got me worried, cuz all chillun look up to older kids, an' iff'n they look up to Victor they will all wanna be like him, meanin' they won' learn neither.”

Alde Long, with a sad expression, looks at Abe and continues, “So I gotta pass em even though he should'n git passed. I gotta push em on, Aby … you know, for the sake of the other chillun. I knows it's wrong, but I don' want them new nippers led astray. I would ask that yer older chillun talk to Victor to straighten him out, but I asked em already an' they said Victor won't listen to them neither … always changin' the subject to games or spaceships or other things whats he is interested in.”

Alde looks at Aby with an apologetic look and adds, “That's what I hadda tell ya, Aby. I will do my best with Victor. He's really a smart boy, … jest ain't got no interest in school work. Tell Zeke iff'n he's mad at me for not teachin' Victor he can have the Model “A” back.”

Aby, looking sad, says, “You have Victor for six hours a day for five days a week. I have him all the other time. I know what you are going through, and you only have a small idea of what I have to put up with. I am so happy that you take him for that time I should ask Zeke to buy you a new Bentley Touring car for giving me that break”, and Aby gives Alde Long a hug, adding, “What can we do with that little boy, Miss Alde?”

“Can't teach em. Can't scare em. Can't threaten em. Can't throttle em. All we can do, Aby, is hope he finds something of interest that requires a little knowledge. Then we will see what he is capable of. He will be the dumb kid in second grade an' all them other kids will make fun of him. At least them new first graders won' look up to him an' git spoiled. I can always hold him back in second grade iff'n he still won't learn. Thank you for bein' so understandin', Aby. Good day to ya.”

-.-.-.-

On a sunny Saturday morning as Jab is doing chores for his Poppa he hears, “Hi Jab”

“What are you doing here at my house, Victor? Did you get permission from your Momma to come over here?

“She didn't say no.”

Did you ask her?”

“No, because then she would probably say no.”

“You're gonna get in trouble, Victor.”

Victor laughs, “Maybe I'll get pig poop pie for desert.”

Jab laughs at that also.

“I wanted to show you my new design for a rocket ship, Jab. Look”, as Victor opens up a big sheet of paper.”

“You have the Captain steering the spaceship with a steering wheel, Jab. They don't use steering wheels to drive a spaceship. You have a clutch pedal, a brake pedal, and a gear shifter too. They don't have gears in a spaceship and they don't have wheel brakes neither, cuz there's no ground for the wheels to ride on.”

“Then how do they change speed and how do they stop if you know everything, Jab?”

“They have more fire come out the back to make them go faster and they turn around to have the fire come out the front to stop them. Didn't you see any of the movies or read any of the comics that have spaceships, Victor?”

“No. Momma and Poppa won't buy me any because they say I spend too much time thinking about spaceships already. I'm going to make a new spaceship and show you a good one”, and Victor turns to go back home.

“Better get permission next time you come over here or you will get me in trouble too. I don't want any of your pig poop pie”, and Jab laughs.

Victor did not laugh. He felt bad that he did not design a realistic spaceship, and walked home slowly with his head hanging.

“Victor! What is you doin' way over here”, asks Pappy, Victor's grandfather, on his way to visit Aby, hoping to be asked to baby sit.

“I was visiting Jab, Gampa. I'm going back home now.”

“Did yer Momma say you could walk way over here alone?”

“She didn't say no, Gampa.”

“That means ya did'n ask her, did ya?”

“I wanted to show Jab something.”

“What ya got there, Victor?”

“A picture of a spaceship, but it ain't a good one.”

“Can I see it? I know a lil ‘bout spaceships.”

Victor reluctantly shows his grandfather his picture.

“Looks pretty good to me Victor, but I only been in a spaceship once, so's I don't rightly knows what the new ones is like, but this looks pretty good to me.”

“You were in a spaceship?”

“I know a lil ‘bout em, Victor. Here's what I know. I know your Poppa an' Jab's Poppa both liked spaceships too, an' usta talk ‘bout em all the time. They invited me for a ride once. Wanna hear that story?”

Victor knew even at his young age that his Grandfather's stories were always interesting, and especially wanted to hear his story about spaceships. “Ya ya, Gampa”, he shouted.

Pappy sat on the bench under the Crimson Maple tree by the cabin, knowing Aby would be able to look out the window to see Victor is alright and was being supervised. He opened his big coat to wrap Victor inside with him to keep him warm as he started his story:

“It was a warm Summer morning ‘bout fifteen year ago. You wasn't born yet, Victor. None of my granchillun was born yet. Yer Poppa lived here alone an' Jab's Poppa lived in a wee cabin whats he had where he lives now. He lived there alone too. They was best friends an' thought ‘bout spaceships together a lot. I always thought they was actin' like toddlers like you is now, you know, jest wastin' their time daydreamin' ‘bout fantasy stuff. Least that's what I thought till that day when I came to visit real early in the morning an' seen em both in the West Hayfield with a real funny lookin' Model “T” Ford. They had changed it so much that I hardly recognized it, but I knew it was a “T”, cuz I seen so many a'fore.

I come up on em an' asked, ‘What is you youngsters up to now?' They looked real surprised that I was there an' I had a feelin' they wished I weren't.

‘We's goin' for a ride, Pappy', said Josh. Well, I had to see that. That “T” did'n look nuttin like what it was sposta an' I hadda see them drivin' it. I said, ‘I'll watch ya leave.' Yer Poppa said, ‘We ain't leavin for a long time. No need to wait, Pappy.' I said, ‘I gots lotta time to wait', and I sat in the freshly mowed hayfield like I could wait forever.

After only ten minutes Josh, lookin' real nervous, looked at yer Poppa and pointed to his watch. Yer Poppa said, ‘We is goin' to the Moon, Pappy. Wanna come along?' Well you can imagine how hard I laughed. I said, ‘Sure. Ain't never been to the Moon a'fore.' Josh jumped into the front passenger seat an' yer Poppa told me to git in the back seat, an' he got behind the steering wheel. ‘Roll up all the windows as tight as you can get them, Pappy', hollered Josh as yer Poppa started the engine. That engine sounded real funny to me … like it had a lot more power that any “T” I heard before.

Well, after he started that big engine a door opened behind the “T” an' a huge fan started turnin' … like a airplane propeller runnin' backwards. Josh hollered, ‘Hang on tight, Pappy.' Yer Pappa pushed down on the gas pedal jest a wee bit and we started goin' real fast down the west hayfield, jest bouncin' an' shakin' from all them lil bumps. Halfway down the hayfield wings came out the side of the “T”, an' that fan behind me was turnin' so fast I could see it pullin' hay clippin's from in front of the “T” an' throwin' it out fast behind us. We must'a been goin' two hundred mile a hour an' runnin' outta hayfield when yer Poppa pulled back on the steering wheel what swung towards his belly. The front of that “T” raised up an' all the shakin' from the bumps in the field stopped. I looked out the window an' saw the hayfield drop from under me. I was real scared. I ain't never been in the air a'fore. I hollered, ‘What is you boys doin?” Josh hollered, ‘Goin' to the Moon, Pappy, jest like we said.”

After jest a couple minutes I saw we was way way up in the air. I saw the cities as little dots. Josh hollers, ‘Hold on again, Pappy', and yer Poppa shifted to high gear. Well, when he did that, fire come outta that big fan in the back. It was a huge flame, an' when it started comin' out we started goin' a lot faster … an' kept goin' faster as the flame come out. I looked out the back window an' saw the Earth as a big ball gittin' smaller, looked out the front window an' saw the Moon as a little ball gittin' bigger. Then yer Poppa turned a switch an' everythin' got quiet. The flame went out, the engine stopped, the fan stopped … I thought my heart was gonna stop. Josh turned around and said to me, ‘Now we coast for a bit. We only brought sandwiches for two of us, so we gotta share at lunch time.' Josh an' yer Poppa was smilin' an' could'n see I was frightened. Josh said, ‘Don't roll any windows down or the air will git out an' we won' be able to breath.'

After almost half a hour I finally was able to say somethin', ‘Is we gonna crash into the Moon?'

Yer Poppa said, ‘No Pappy. We is jest gonna circle it this time. We calculated the trajectory so's we is pulled around the Moon real close an' then is shot back to the Earth with even greater speed. Josh calls it his “slingshot” move.'

Well, that Moon got bigger an' bigger. I was sure we was gonna crash. We was goin' what seemed like a brazillion miles a hour. I wanted to faint but could'n … did'n know how, I guess. I jest looked at the Moon an' thought I was gonna see my Maker real soon. Josh an' yer Poppa jest looked out the window an' smiled. That moon started in the front window an' slowly moved to the driver's side of the “T” … jest whizzing by as we went round behind it goin' faster an' faster. Then the Moon seemed to disappear when we was lookin' at it in the rear window. I hollered, ‘The Moon is disappearin'.' Josh said, ‘Ya jest can' see it, cuz the Sun ain't shinnin' on this side right now. Don' worry. It's still there.'

‘Why is the Moon circlin' us?', I asked. Then I realized we jest ain't turnin', but our back is always facin' the Earth jest like when we left.

When we came back into the Sunlight I saw the moon again out the front window. We was headin' back to earth backwards! Now I was really scared, cuz I did'n know iff'n yer Poppa could drive the “T” good goin' a awful lot of miles a hour backwards.

The Earth got bigger faster comin' back than it got smaller when we left. That's how I knew we was goin' faster now. Josh asked yer Poppa, ‘Is we goin' as fast as ya calculated, Zeke?' Yer Poppa said, ‘I don' know. Seems we is goin' faster.' Josh had a frightened look on his face, an' that did'n make me feel no better, that's for sure. I thought at least I was gonna crash at home where someone could find me an' bury me with my fam'ly. Least that's what I thought until Josh said, ‘Think we will burn to a crisp on re-entry, Zeke?' That's all I needed to hear. How does folks identify a crisp as being me? I don' even knows what a crisp looks like, so I knows it shore don' look like me! Yer Poppa said we had a lotta fuel, so he thought he could prob'ly maybe make a good landing. Hearin' that did'n make me feel no better neither. “Prob'ly maybe”? That did'n sound like he thought he could do it himself neither.

Well, the Earth looked like a big soccer ball ‘bout to smack me in the face when I heard them engines start again. Fire shot out the back of the “T” like somethin' fierce … like them stories you hear of them big dragons in the old days that I hadda fight when I was a toddler on my way to school. I felt me pushed against the seat like we was goin' forward, but when I looked out the back window I seen we was still movin' fast backward. That force on the seat was much greater than when we left the Earth, as I seemed to almost be outta cushion on the seat … jest feelin' them springs pushin' on my back, an' I was havin' a hard time liftin' my head off'n the cushion.

I felt a lot of heat in the “T” an' thought maybe I was turnin' into a crisp like Josh said, when I heard Josh holler, ‘Hang on'. Yer Poppa pulled a lever an' them wings popped out again. He turned the steering wheel an' the “T” turned around so's the Earth was in the front window. Josh hollered, ‘Does ya know where we is, Zeke?' Yer Poppa hollered, ‘I think we is over Europe . We forgot to remember the Earth was rotatin' while we was away.' Josh hollered, ‘Can you get us back home?' Yer Poppa said, ‘Gotta get to the other side of the Atlantic . Shore wish I paid more attention to Miss Alde in Geography class.' Josh hollered, ‘Do yer best, Zeke. We is countin' on ya.'

Well, here we was on the wrong side of the ocean whats was gittin' real close. We was still goin fast, but that Atlantic seemed real big. We was half way across when yer Poppa pushed down on the gas pedal to have more fire come out the back with the fan goin' full blast. We was ‘bout ten feet above the water an' could'n see land nowhere. After ‘bout a hour we saw the Statue of Liberty an' knew we was almost home, but not sure we was gonna make it, cuz Josh said we was almost outta gas. Yer Poppa pushed the gas pedal to the floor an' we gained ‘bout five thousand feet off'n the ground. Then ever'thin' went quiet. We was outta gas. The engine stopped. The fire stopped commin' out, an' the fan stopped turning. I thought that was the end of us for shore.

Josh had his face pressed against the front window as did yer Poppa. I thought they was lookin' fer a good place fer us to crash an' die, cuz I heard Josh holler, “There's one Zeke.' Yer Poppa said, ‘I see it too', and we started comin' down fast. Josh hollered, ‘Hang on Pappy.' I made the sign of the cross, closed my eyes an' waited for the crash, but instead felt a big bump and heard lot'sa tire screechin', looked up an' seen yer Poppa pushin' down hard on the brakes with Josh rollin' down his window when we stopped, sayin', ‘Fill er up, please.' They found a gas station.

That feller at the gas station asked what kinda car it was. Josh said it was a tractor whats used on a farm. Josh said. ‘That's why city folk never seen one a'fore.' That gas station feller said, ‘But there ain't no farms ‘round here.' Josh jest said, ‘That's why we ran outta gas gittin to one.'

Well, that “T” took two hundred gallon to fill, but we only had seven dollar thirty cents, so we hadda stop the filling short of seventy five gallon. Josh said it might be nuff an' thanked me fer my quarter an' nickel whats he said he would pay me back. Yer Poppa drove down the road to where it was straight for a mile, waited till there were no cars in sight and then took off again. We made it back to the farm at sundown the next day after leavin'. We was almost outta gas again, outta food, an' outta money. Josh said next time they want to land on the Moon an' have a picnic, but first he hadda solve the air problem.”

Pappy looks down at Victor who is staring straight ahead with a smile on his face as though it was the best story he ever heard. “Do you know why the air was a problem, Victor?” asked Pappy.

“Because there is no air on the Moon, Gampa?”

“No. Because it takes a whole day to get to the Moon, and being in a car that you can't open the windows for a whole day is a long time not to fart”, chuckles Pappy.

Victor looks up at Pappy, says, “Oh Gampa” and laughs, getting a big hug from Pappy.

“Where is the “T” now, Gampa?”

“Don' know, Victor. I think they took it apart when they tried to build a better one outta a ‘A'.”

“My drawing is a lot like their spaceship.”

“Yup. That's why I thought it was a good one. But I think they make different kinds now. Course ya still can't roll down the windows even in the new ones, so ya still got that air problem.”

“I liked that story, Gampa.”

“Thank ya, Victor. An' I like your spaceship”, as Pappy walks him towards the cabin for lunch, reaching into his pocket and saying, “Here's the same quarter an' nickel Josh paid me back”, now making Victor know the story really happened.

“Course, these two coins did'n go to the Moon, but this penny whats I keep all wrapped up did. Josh did'n borrow it. My Grampa's Grampa give it to my Grampa whats give it to me. He said, ‘Here Ebby'. That's what they usta call me when I was little, cuz my real name is Ebenezer. ‘Here Ebby', he said, ‘Keep this an' you'll never go broke.' Now I'm giving it to you, Victor. Keep it like new in this cloth an' you'll never go broke. It's yours.”

Victor just looked at the penny with awe.

Aby only seen where Pappy gave Victor the penny, and smiled her approval. Little did Pappy know, Aby and Zeke would not appreciate having Victor's imagination fired up even further.

. . . . .

In the next Woodpile Report:

My Son Victor - Chapter II of XVI

The Spaceship Club

. . . . .

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