For Millie and Drew

 I’m walking down the street, lost in my thoughts. The work week is over and I want to do is go home and drown my sorrows. Now that I’m single again, that’s about the best I can hope for.

I don’t notice the busker until the toe of my shoe bumps into his guitar case.

The case is open and there is some money in it. Mostly coins. I see quarters, dimes, and a few pennies. Not much in the way of currency. I see a few fives, a ten and several ones.

Behind the case stands one of the least prosperous looking hillbillies that I’ve ever laid eyes on and, brother, that covers some territory. Tall and bony with long and stringy blonde hair. He evidently hasn’t shaved in a few days and has the beginnings of a patchy beard. He wears bib overalls with no shirt underneath and flip flops on his feet.

He does play his battered guitar quite well and his voice is high and thin, but not unpleasant sounding. It’s obvious that he and his music come straight out of Appalachia. He sings:

“A place is prepared in Heaven on high,

Where little children of God have no need to cry

Oh when I am gone Lord, let it be said

I thank you dear Lord for this one loaf of bread“

As I listen to his mournful tune, my mind drifts back to a time and a place that it hasn’t visited in quite a while. Thirty some years ago….

#

When I was 10 years old, my family and I lived on Boone Holler Road, about five miles outside of Hickmanville, Kentucky. Boone Holler started as a blacktop road, then turned into gravel, and, by the end of the road, or “head of the holler” as people in Eastern Kentucky call it, it was dirt. The road dead ended at Boone Holler Church, a small white building that had seen better days and where my Daddy was pastor. Our house was next door to the church.

Most of those who attended Daddy’s church were older folks mostly came out of habit. Two exceptions were Millie and Drew Osgood. Millie was fourteen and Drew, her kid brother was five. Their main reason for being there was sad. Their parents stayed out all night on Saturdays and were not pleasant to be around when they were hung over on Sunday mornings. The Osgood house was a half mile walk for the two of them. They were our closest neighbors. Every Sunday, after church, Mommy would invite them to eat lunch with us. Our three bedroom, brick home was nothing fancy, but they seemed to be awestruck by it. Daddy surely wasn’t a rich man. He never accepted a salary for preaching back then and his job was managing Dixon’s Hardware in Hickmanville. But he and Mom always seemed to be helping somebody who needed it.

The Osgood house was what Daddy called a “shotgun shack”. Once, my little brother Bucky, who was six, asked why he called it that.

“Why, Bucky, that means that you can shoot a shotgun through the front door and the shell would go right out the back door!” Dad told him.

Millie and Drew were both small for their ages. Judging from how they wolfed down their Sunday lunch, they didn’t get much to eat at home. Maybe, it was because my parents were nice to them or maybe because we both had younger brothers, but Millie and I got along really well. I honestly believe that Millie was my first love.

I had started being interested in girls a few years earlier. It started when they started showing Big Valley reruns on the one channel we could pick up on our TV. The first time that Audra Barkley walked across the screen, I had a feeling that I had never had.

Millie was small, as I said earlier. She had long blonde hair that was usually in a ponytail. At church, we would sit next to each other on the back pew. Most of the time, she would hold my hand. Sometimes, she would slip off her shoe. Then, using her toes, she would slip one of my loafers off. After that, she would rub her foot against mine. If my parents had ever seen this, I would have probably got a whipping. She and I never really talked about this, but the physical contact with a girl made me feel like I was something special. Most high school kids, like Millie, didn’t even acknowledge grade school kids like me.

In fact, Millie never said much at all. I never heard Drew speak until that cold day in October. I’ve tried to block that day out of my memory. It chills my blood to think about it.

Bucky and me were on the front porch talking about Trick or Treat. We actually had store bought costumes that year. I was going as Batman and Bucky would be dressed as Robin. We were both really excited about this. Bucky had given Drew his cowboy costume from last year. Drew reacted as if the costume were made of solid gold.

That’s when we heard it. A plaintive wail, almost a scream…

“PREEEEEEEEEACHER! PREEEEEEEACHER!”

Then we saw him. There was little Bucky Osgood. He was running barefoot up Boone Holler. It was starting to get cold and the kid was wearing nothing but his underwear.

I opened the front door and hollered inside, “Daddy, you better come out here!”

Dad walked out onto the porch just as Drew ran into our yard. Tears were streaming down his face.

“Drew! What’s wrong, buddy?” Daddy asked him as he scooped the tiny boy up into his arms.

“It’s my dad!” Drew responded. He was frantic. “My dad got him gun and I’m afraid him gonna kill my mom and my sissy!”

Daddy ran into the living room. Mommy was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Daddy put Drew on Mommy’s lap.

“Here, Kay, “ he said. “Take care of this youngun! Something bad is going on down at his house!” Daddy ran out of the room. A few seconds later, he was back in the living room, carrying his King James Bible.

I believe in the Holy Word as much as anybody, but to this day, I’m not sure what good a book would do against a firearm.

“Call the law and tell’em there’s a guy threatening people with a gun down there!” he told Mommy. Then, he told Bucky and me, “You boys stay here with your Mommy!” With those words, my Daddy ran out the front door. I don’t think that I have ever seen anybody else move that fast!

Mommy called the sheriff’s department and reported what was going on. Then, she just held Drew, rocked back and forth, and stroked the little boy’s hair. Every few seconds, she would whisper “Dear Lord Jesus, oh, Lord Jesus!”

About ten minutes later, we heard the sirens. Bucky and me looked out the picture window. We really couldn’t see anything. Bucky went over to the couch and snuggled next to Mommy. Drew wrapped his arms around my little brother’s neck and hid his face in Bucky’s hair. Everybody on the couch began to sob.

This was too much for me to bear. I slid to the floor, covered my face with my hands, and wept uncontrollably.

I’m not sure how long I had been crying when I heard the front door open. I looked up. My Daddy stood there. He was weeping, too, and he was trembling uncontrollably. He looked like a ghost. I had never seen him this way and it scared me.

Drew escaped Mommy’s grasp and ran toward the door.

“I’m a goin’ to my house!” he screamed.

Daddy reached down and lifted Drew into a hug.

“No, there ain’t nothing you need to see down there!” Dad said. He was still weeping and it sounded like he choked on the words.

Later, after Drew and Bucky had gone to bed, my parents and I sat at the kitchen table and Daddy gave us the grim details. From the looks of things, Donald Osgood, Millie and Drew’s father had been shooting his handgun wildly in the living room. One of his shots had hit Della, Drew’s mother right between the yes. Another shot had hit Millie. Before he could say anything else about Mille, I broke down. He stopped talking and Mom held me until I was able to calm down enough to go to bed. That’s all that I heard that night. I’ve never asked for any more details.

Quite honestly, I’ve never had the guts.

Donald Osgood got hauled off to jail. He was sentenced to two concurrent life sentences. Every time that piece of white trash has a parole hearing, Daddy shows up gives them his version of what happened. Parole gets denied every time.

Drew’s grandparents came down from Massillon, Ohio, and made the arrangements. They had Daddy preach the funeral. Mr. Crowder, the funeral director, gave a big discount, but there was still no way Drew’s family could pay. Daddy passed an offering plate after he preached. The people from our church were not well off and there was still quite a bit left to pay. I found out later that Daddy brought fifty dollars to Mr. Crowder every month until the funeral bill was paid.

That’s the old man for you.

#

“Three little graves just outside of town,

Where a family in prayer all gathered around

To gaze at a stone, these words they have read

They break no more windows, they steal no more bread,

I begged an I cried for the other kids sake

Not a penny or nickel or a dime could I make.

A little light shone bright off a stone up ahead,

I broke out a window for one loaf of bread.”



I just stand there and think of Millie as I stare at the money in the guitar case. I guess I stand there for longer than I thought . I hear the busker clear his throat. Then, he speaks.

“Hey, bud, I sure hope that song didn’t offend you somehow, “ he says. I detect genuine concern in his voice.

“No, it’s a fine song. You sing and play really well. My name is Mart, “ I say and offer my hand.

He shakes with me. His hand is calloused. A working man’s hand.

“I’m Wally Wallingford, shiftless drifter and guitar slinger.”

“Pleased to meet ya, “ I say. “That song just reminds me of a few kids I grew up with.”

“I truly hope they didn’t meet the same fate as the kids in the song.”

“One of’em did,” I can’t get the words out without choking up a bit.

And I honestly don’t know what became of little Drew. His grandparents took him back up to Massillon with them. Mommy would send cards for his birthday and Christmas. The last one came back marked “Return To Sender’. I hope he’s well.

I pull out my wallet, pull out two twenty dollar bills and drop them in the case. That was meant for a case of beer and a pizza. I guess I’ll settle for a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk. That will be better for me anyhow.

“Hey, many thanks, bud!” Wally Wallingford hollers.

“That was for Millie and Drew, “ I holler over my shoulder.

“Well, God bless’em!” Wally says .

Yeah, God bless’em!