It was a beautiful fall day (that’s hillbilly talk for meaning you can see your breath) and I stopped at the Jack Cunningham place to visit a spell.
Mr. Cunningham, born in 1913, was an interesting man. Now, interesting could mean a whole passel of things for different folks. But for me, and in this instance, it means Mr. Cunningham enjoyed sharing stories from the past (mostly concerning the hill people), and I enjoyed hearing them.
This particular day, he had a very interesting story that was not from the past, but the present. You see, it was deer season, and one of his sons (I think it was Charles) and several of his friends were up on the hill directly south of Mr. Cunningham’s home. Now, that hill, as many of you know, is quite the hill – one could even call it a mountain, and it wouldn’t be stretchin’ the truth no further than from a tadpole’s head to his tail. So, them men were up there on that hill searching for a big ole’ buck that several had seen prior to deer season. He was a real “thumper,” as we would say.
Well, Mr. Cunningham stood grinning at me in his driveway; and anyone that remembers Jack Cunningham knows that he had one of them grins that took up his whole face.
He then proceeded, “I know where he is.”
Now, I could tell by the gleam in his eye that he meant just what he said. Don’t you know my trigger finger began twitchin’, and I was all ears.
He continued, “Yesterday mornin’ when I went to do the chores, it was still dark enough so that one could barely see, and I caught a glimpse of what I thought was that ole’ buck going inside the barn.”
What?! That massive buck is a hidin’ just a short distance down this dirt road in that barn? Again, Mr. Cunningham just grinned, and proceeded with his story. “So, late yesterday evenin’, I slipped over there in the pickup, and just sat and waited. Sure enough, when it got so dark that a man wouldn’t be able to see the sights on his rifle, that ole’ buck came out of the barn the same way he went in. Now, I figure we ought to just leave that wise old fella alone, and let them chase his ghost all over that hill. What do you think?”
I replied the only way that seemed fit, “Yes sir.”
Now, you readers must understand somethin’: I was just in my teens, full of sap and vinegar, and I would have liked nothin’ better than to bust me a big buck (and Mr. Cunningham knew that). But what he said to me, or maybe it was the way he said it, kinda took the fight out of me so to speak; made me stop and think. His question, coupled with the look in his eye had depth, made me feel like I was being invited to something important. Now, I am probably not capable of explaining this the way it ought to be. But, what Mr. Cunningham was trying to teach me was that there is a whole lot more to life than acting like a wild Indian.
And, he wasn’t talkin’ about deer huntin’, either; had nothin’ to do with it, really. In the Bible, it’s called being sober minded: “Young men likewise exhort to be sober minded.” (Titus 2:6)
I will just leave that right there for you folks to ponder on.
Michael Everett Jones is a Texas County native, old fashioned historian and purveyor of traditional Christian values. Email ozarksgrandpajones@gmail.com.