Cap Smith, Part 2

I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas! If only for one day there would be peace in the land and no deaths or sorrows, that would surely be a day for dancing a jig or two. Several people called me to wish me a Merry Christmas including Rachel, David and the little dog. He even sent me a Christmas card…his picture. He visited me with his human people back in the summer. I would like to say over the past few years I have made many friends and renewed many acquaintances and I appreciate all your calls, cards, letters.

I wonder how many people are making New Year’s Resolutions. I always make them and sometimes I even keep them. A friend of mine via facebook did some genealogy on my family and I found a lot of relatives. As I looked at the myriad of names, it saddened me that I didn’t know any of their stories. The first one was a Frenchman back in the days of Louis IV and he was Captain of the Guards. What stories he could tell! I would like to encourage each of you to write a journal, no matter what your age. I have not kept a journal and I wish that I had, but I feel that my books and articles reflect who I am and how I have lived and I can only hope that somewhere down the line some great great grandchild will pick up where I left off with my writing. So much history is being lost. I grieve each time an older person dies around these mountains for I know they are taking so many things, memories, history and a wonderful part of these mountains that is known only to that person. No one else has the same memories as you. So think about it and make a resolution to write down all you can.

Here is another chapter of Cap Smith:
“I knowed thet adder we moved ta th camp house, hit would only be a day er two afore I started ta work. Pa worked seven nights a week and he war tared all th time. ‘I’ll be right happy when ye go inta th mine with me, boy.’ He said hit over an over. I didn’t tell pa but th truth be tolt now…I war awfully afeared. I war jest a little boy an I wanted ta be able ta run th woods an go fishing an sich. I had never been inside a mine in all my born life. Hit war scarey ta me…all thet darkness. Pa gived me a right good carbide lamp. It sorta looked like a teakettle ta my mind. He showed me how ta light hit. I hed ben around carbide afore. My buddy had some in his pocket onct when we went gigging fer frogs. Hit got wet and ye never seen such hissing and bawling; hissing from the carbide and bawling when it burnt the fare outa my buddy. Ma give me a lard bucket to pack my dinner in each night. Pa worked th night shift from seven at night ta seven in th morning. When he got home each morning, he would sot and drank his coffee and smoke cigarettes fer a hour er two. He would take a bath in a wash tub from the hot water Mam het fer him. Mam would shew all the younguns out of the kitchen and she would take a pan o water and a bar of Lye soap and wash Pa, starting with his head first. I knowed this cause I allus war nosy and I peeped through a crack. Adder she soped him up good she would pour pan after pan of water on him, with him still astandin in th tub. Then she would dry him off. Adder thet she would pour him another cup of coffee and he would saucer hit an when hit war finished he would go ta bed. Hit bothered me right smart ta thank thet Ma would warsh me thet way. I warn’t no baby! Hit war different with Pa, but iffen Ma warshed me then hit would git around an boys would laugh at me…girls too, fer thet matter. So with my fear of going underground thar war also my fear of my Mam warshing me an I rightly don’t know which war worse in my young mind.”

“I decided ta talk ta my Pa about hit. I said, ‘Pa, hit don’t seem right thet Ma would warsh me th way she does ye when ye come in from the mine!’

‘How did ye know thet?’ he ast. I jest hung my head. ‘Yer Ma allus kivers th winders so ye ben lookin, ain’t ye?’ I held my head down even further this time. ‘I guess I have, pa.’ I tolt him. ‘well, son, I’m afeared ye is agoin ta have ta warsh yeself!’ I run out o the house. ‘Thank ye, Jesus!’ I shouted, fer hit couldn’t wait fer church. I never did peep through no cracks adder thet.

Thet first morning I war kinda proud. Hit war in the fall o th yar but hit war still pretty warm. I war kinda upsot thet Mam made me war long johns. I thought I would pert near burn up til I got ta th mine. My pants war too long an Mam had cut them down an now they war too short. Sommin hed gived them ta me. hit war an old Polish womern who couldn’t speak a word o Anglish. She brung the clothes ta th house fer me an I saw tears in her eyes. She spoke ta Mam but Mam couldn’t understand her either. I spect she war upset thet I war goin inta th mine. I larnt later thet she lost her older son in th mine th year afore. She had four workin thar now along with her man. Th boy who war kilt war her youngest an he war eleven yar old. She war a mighty good womern fer she made th best bread in the world an she allus brung some fer us. The evenin I war goin inside the mine she brung me four fried apple pies, made from dried apples and wropped up in a paper poke. I gived two ta pa an I et two when hit war time fer dinner. Mam fried us taters an cooked green beans thet she had canned in the summer and give us a big hunk o cornbread. ‘I wist thar war some way we could keep our food warm in har.’ He would say every born day. ‘iffen we had a bucket with a bottom whar we could put hot water in hit an put our food on top, hit would work right fine.’

The mouth o thet mine war deceiving like. Hit war big enough fer mules ta come out apulling a load o coal so I thought thet surely hit would be th same inside. We went inside fer a ways on thet same ol mule an sled, but then hit war like being in th darkest cave. I war thet scart! Pa had gived me a pick ax ta work with, an I had a hard hat on and carried my dinner pail an I war shakin in th boots thet war too big on me, and th pants thet war cut off at th bottom an tied at th waist with a piece o clothes line. Pa bent his head toward the hole an shined th light right thar. ‘Pa, is thet whar we got ta go?’ ‘thet’s hit son,’ an fer a minute with th carbide lamp shinin in his eyes, I war shore I saw tears.

Hit war hard, hard work and the clinkin sound o them pick ax went on and on right ta the time I went ta my bed, plumb smack wore out. Even in my sleep, I heared them, clanging, clanging against thet black coal. Thet carbide lamps shinin on them walls seemed like hades would be. Thet an th clanging o them picks. By th end o th day I war almost too tard ta walk home. I bagged Mam not ta make me take a bath. I think at that time, I woulda gladly let her warsh me like I war her baby agin. I remember her tears afallin on my face when as I drifted off ta sleep.”

Well, I guess that is all for today. Remember to smile and to say a prayer or two for your enemies; and always always be kind to yourself! Have a Happy New Year and don’t forget to start writing those journals!