Brother

        Back in the days the boys were full of pranks...they still are of course, but it was a different style back then. We lived by the river and when it rained a lot and the flooding came, the muddy water would wash the bridge out. Now back then the county didn't take care of those things. Neighbors would get together and build a bridge or like my friend Mary Joan Cornett and her brothers, they would have to paddle a boat across the river, all year long. It was a cold job in winter but in the spring, summer, and fall, it was an adventure for young people and especially boys, I'm sure. But that old bridge beside our house afforded a lot of fun for us. The boys would fish off it and swim under it. Many people would throw their garbage off the bridge and it would float downstream to the next bridge where it would often get tangled and stay there. I have seen people shoot off the bridge, the sound reverberating through the swish of the water. It was a hanging out place for many. I have sat on the edge many times, my feet dangling, thinking of something or other. If a car or truck came across I would get talked to for sitting there.
        Once when I was no more than four, we got a flood and my brother and his friend Jack were on the bridge on their bicycles. The water was getting close and the bridge was making sounds that should have worried anyone except two young boys.  Neither of them had new bicycles. They were probably an assortment of pieces put together by two boys who loved to tinker and were merely practicing for when they could replace them with an old car. In my minds' eye, I can see them: leaning on their bikes, snickering at their daring, when one decided to be a bit more of a dare devil. I don't know whose idea it was...but like many of their pranks, it had potential for danger.
        They dared each other to ride off the bridge into the water. I don't know how they decided who would go first, but Jack was the chosen one. He rode across the rough bridge a few times, trying to get his courage up or perhaps showing off to the other boys, who had gathered around, and then amidst cheers of  'I double dare you!' he rode off into the dirty, swirling, fast moving water, as cold as ice. My brother was supposed to be next. Perhaps he had second thoughts, perhaps Mama came out of the house to see what was going on, or perhaps my brother was now fearful for his friend's life. He didn't go. Instead, he rode his bike into the yard, got off and ran down the river, watching as a head bobbed up and down, and bicycle parts were here and there. Several others had followed my brother and they yelled and encouraged Jack. Now Jack was a good swimmer, having spent a lot of time in the river, but there was no swimming in this flood swollen, fast moving river. I think there  truly are angels who watch over children for they were there that day! Jack was pulled for a good half mile before he got near the bank and the onlookers pulled him out. The first thing he said was, 'I thought you were right behind me!' to my brother. 'My old man woulda killed me if I had done something like that!' he told Jack.
         Jack was 'biling' mad at my brother for a day or two, but soon they were right back into mischief. As I think back on it, I think there was such a special bond between boys and their friends, forged through hard times and the challenge of making do with what they had. Jack's mother died in childbirth when Jack was about ten years old, leaving three small children and a baby. He spent a lot of time at our house, eating at our table and planning mischief with Hagert. They fished and hunted together and one time when they were about sixteen, Lee Creech who owned a coal mine up in the holler, had an old mule who died. He offered the two boys twenty five dollars to get rid of it. Now, he didn't specify how to get rid of the bloated carcass and twenty five dollars was a lot of money; twelve fifty each. Jack's family had gone away for the weekend and they hot wired Jack's old truck and drove it up the holler to the mine. Neither boy had a license. Now they backed that truck right up to the mule, gathered up some wide planks of wood and some rope. They then got two other mine mules and tied the rope to them and put one on each side of the truck and pulled the mule up over the boards and into the bed. It was no easy feat, but twenty five dollars was riding on their accomplishing it. Well, they got the mule in and my brother drove up to Sand Hill and nearly to the top of the mountain where there was a trash pile that people for miles around brought their trash. It burned all the time it seemed, and the smell was horrible.
         They found a spot where they could back the truck up and dump the body. It was a lot easier to get it out than it had been to get it in. They used the boards to push its body off the truck bed. They had backed the truck as far as they could and they got a little nervous as the mule sat on the edge of the truck, for all they could see was garbage down the hill. They dumped it and watched as it rolled down, down, down. They went back home to get their twenty five dollars and they fixed the truck back as though nothing had happened. Boys. shirley's quilt pieces blog