The Coal Mine

[An oral essay taking place in the 1960's...A small boy speaks his mind on the merits of a coal mine, teaberry chewing gum, and his own fight to preserve a small part of his spirit. A selection from the apple tree conversations.]

          A talking about that old cabin up there, Trey. Might be, I'm a fixing to tell you the tale I made a mention of back a yonder way. A way up a yonder on the side of that mountain there is a big, dark hole a resting itself, Trey. If a fellow was to let a notion take him, he could take an easy stroll up along that holler that was lying there between that mountain and the one on the other side, just a following along behind that notion. Might be, if there wasn't anyone a pushing on him, a telling him to do that or this, a fellow might could have himself a right pleasurable walk.

          If it was the same day on which he had woke up that morning, a carrying that last quarter in his pocket left over from when he had been working up at the Kazee's the other morning, he would have already been downt Taylor's store. In case all these things was the truth, he would still have the taste of those sticks of horehound candy that he had eaten on the way here a rolling around in his mouth and a soothing his throat. In his front, left side, shirt pocket there would be a pack of chewing gum. Whether it be Teaberry, which was his first choice, or Beeman's or Cloves, there it would be in his shirt pocket. If all these things was the case at hand, he was truly blessed, and it wasn't no mistake. It truly was one of those days when the heavens had looked down at him and smiled. And he might even be carrying a pack or two of peanut butter kits in the pocket of his jeans.

          Of course, he was carrying his slingshot in his hip pocket, and resting up agin it was one of those Louis L'Amour paperback, western novels in case he wanted to take him a rest and read a word or two. Supposing he had already been blessed that much, maybe it was a situation where he had truly drawn the favor of God and it had rained like a bushel of the dickens only a couple of days afore this. All the springs were a flowing, the creek in the holler was full and the sweet smells of honeysuckle and wild roses were a quivering in his nostrils. A smile had been born into his life for this one day, had painted itself in his heart, and was looking out through the blue in his eyes.

         ...And if he had anybody that he loved, he was thinking about them and a wishing they were there. Of course, he had somebody that he loved. There was Trisha and Debby, Mama and Daddy, Nita Sue and Gretta, Pedro, and there was Lea, his sister who was always with him, 'cepting when him or her had slipped off from the other one. See, of a time, a fellow or his sister just plain had to be their own company. Like today, his heart was a thumping raggedly in his chest this morning when he woke up, and the honeybees were a buzzing in the clover outside his window. The whippoorwill's song that was calling him late last night still rang in his ears, and he was most nigh fidgety. He knew that today was his day. He would slip off on his own today, a playing and a carrying on, and see what come of it.

         Anyways, Trey, between that old cabin and that big, dark hole up a yonder, there's a tolerable few things that a fellow might be drawn to. If I got the time, and you was a wanting to hear about them, I would be right proud to be the fellow what done the telling. Right at this moment, though, that old hole is a telling me that it wants to be the thing that is spoken on, and I don't see fit to argue with it none, ifen it was all the same to you.

          Trey, you wouldn't go and hold it agin me, was I to speak bad of myself, would you? Reason I am a asking, is cause of I have got my heart set on you, Trey. I wouldn't want to disappoint you, Trey. Not ary bit.

          Sometimes, Trey, a man has to do things that go agin his raising, even if he thinks the angel of the Lord is a riding on his shoulder. Comes a time, Trey, when a man has just got to fight back agin the thing that is a killing him. Sometimes, a man will do a whole heap of things he is ashamed of doing, but if he had not done those things, his spirit would have done been pulled out of him and he would not have been of any use to anyone, not even his Mama, without any spirit in his heart.

          As I was a saying, Trey, if a fellow was to find himself of a mind, and he had done taken himself a notion he was a wanting to follow, he could just follow that notion right up the side of that mountain. If he was a walking behind it true, it would lead him a walking right up face to face with that big, dark hole in the ground up a yonder. ...And he would be a standing there, Trey, a looking that hole right in the eye. Might be, he would say him a prayer as he was a looking at it and it was a looking right back at him.

          He was ashamed, Trey. His legs trembled and his heart moved violently in his chest as their eyes locked. At that moment he spoke the first lie he had told himself, I am not afraid. I will walk into this hole today and I will smile as the darkness covers me over. On the tail of this thought, his heart spoke of the countless tomorrows when his Daddy would send him here to mine coal. He knew his enemy was standing there in front of him and it was going to laugh when his tears began to fall. He began to think, I will not cry.

          ...And he would stand there, Trey, a thinking about it a bit, whether he was brave enough or not, to step a foot inside that hole and go right on a walking till the daylight died behind him. He was a standing there, and if it was as it had been in most cases, a bag full of nervous would come a floating through the sky and settle down right over him. He'd reach in his shirt pocket and out would come that pack of chewing gum. He would open him up a stick of it and start in a chewing on it. ...And if it be Cloves he was a chewing, after a bit that bag full of nervous would fade right on away from him. Up would come his right foot and he would walk casually into the face of darkness.

          His first thought as he stepped acrost the line that was a dividing the light from the darkness, was that right about then, he wished he could reach up to his head and get him a feel for that old, mining hat of his Daddy's that ought to be a sitting there, get him a feel for that hat, and let his fingers walk right on to that carbide lamp that would be sitting on it. He would give that little, old, brass knob a twist for priming, jump him a streak of sparks acrost the stream of gas that was a floating from the hole in the lamp, and he would have him a hissing streak of fire that was a spitting and a sputtering, a pointing out the way in front of him. Wasn't no use in a wishing, though. That hat wasn't a going to appear on his head out of nowhere, he knew that.

          Right about then a fellow would start in a listening. A seeing if there was anything a coming out of the darkness living in the hole that he might need be mindful of. There's a whole heap of things a fellow don't know about himself till he has been in a place like that, with nothing but the darkness looking back at him, while he's a looking into it, a trying to see something. Things ain't the same in the dark, Trey. The things you will think of ain't the same. A fellow might be in the hole and he might take up a thinking. If a fellow did, the things he would be a thinking would not be the same things he would be thinking if he was not in the hole in the first place. He's going to be a thinking what may be on the other side of the dark, or what kind of a thing may be in there with him and he ain't a knowing it, because his eyes ain't seeing too good right at that moment. A fellow could be sitting there and something might get a holt of his heart, set it to beating till he can just feel the flesh of his chest a rising up every time it takes it a beat. A black ribbon of thought might settle down over him and start in a winding its way through his mind. He might want to rise up from where he is sitting and run with the wind of a cyclone a pushing him, a pushing him toward the light.

          ...And he was a standing there, Trey, on the dark side of the line between night and day. Of a sudden, he heard a familiar sound a going down that tunnel behind him. He knew he was hearing the sound of running footsteps a fading away toward the light of day. He turned quickly and caught himself a glimpse of what it was a making those footsteps right afore it hit the sun and disappeared. It was his own nerve he was a looking at, Trey, done up and abandoned him right at that moment he had been a fixing to call its name.

          He felt something inside of him, and it was telling him what to do, a guiding him in his moment of need. He started in a thinking. My name is James Earl Jackson Holloway. I am thirteen years old. My Mama's name is Nancy Louvene Justice, and my Daddy's name is William Martin Holloway. Whatever you are in there, I am not afraid of you. I am coming in there right now, and I am aiming to introduce myself.

          My Mama's Mama was Pauline Dolly Mead, and her Daddy was Gilmore Justice. Grandpa Gilmore's Daddy was Aaron Justice, and his Mama was Nancy Jane Blackburn. Great Grandma Nancy Jane had her a brother who was Harmon Richard Blackburn. Harmon Richard got married to Rebecca Goff, and their daughter was Virgie Blackburn. Virgie married Harry Franklin Wilkinson, and Nina Mae Wilkinson was born to them.

          Way back there behind him, he heard the faint echo of a footstep or two, and he went right on a thinking, a knowing he was hearing his nerve have second thoughts about a leaving him like it had. He began to concentrate his thoughts into a hard wall, a trying to coax his nerve into coming on back to him. Harmon Richard and Nancy Jane's Daddy was John Blackburn. My Mama says he was killed in the Civil War. John Blackburn's wife was Pricey Justice, the daughter of Peyton Justice and Elizabeth Keen. After Great, Great Grandpa John Blackburn was killed down at Louisa, Kentucky, Pricey Blackburn married Gilmore Justice, who was Great Grandpa Aaron Justice's Daddy.

          My Grandma, Pauline Dolly Mead's Daddy was Rhodes William Mead. He was in the 39th Kentucky Infantry during the Civil War. The Confederates captured him and put him in a prison over at Christiansburg, Virginia. Rhodes married Nancy Louvene Billiter, my Mama's namesake, along with Nancy Jane Blackburn. Rhodes' Daddy was Rhodes [Big Rhodes] Mead from over at Little Mud Creek in Floyd County, Kentucky. Big Rhodes had him some land over here in Pike County, and he would live at ary place he took him a notion on. Big Rhodes was a Christian Baptist preacher, and some of his boys was. His son, John Printer Mead was a census taker, and a Justice of the Peace over at Prestonsburg in Floyd County. Printer, Kentucky is called after him.

          He could hear those footsteps coming a little bit closer. He sensed his nerve was feeling ashamed of itself for what it had done, and was working its way back toward him, a aiming to apologize. My Great, Great Grandpa Gilmore Justice was a brave man. He joined the 39th Kentucky Infantry, Company I, in November of 1862. Reason it be that Gilmore up and quit the Yankees of the 39th, only Gilmore is a knowing, but in March of 1863 Gilmore joined the Confederate Army, and it be the 10th Kentucky Calvary he was a riding with. Diamond's Yankee Chasers, the 10th was called. Gilmore was also a part of the Kentucky Mounted Rifles when he was a riding with the Confederate States of America. He was with Company C in the 3rd Battalion. In 1890 Gilmore filed papers for a pension for his service with the 39th. It is false common knowledge that Gilmore died in July of 1899. The question I ask myself about that item is: What was Gilmore, his daughters, Mary, Martha and Lillian, and his son John A., doing on the census of 1900, which was counted near July of 1900, ifen he was a year gone and dead?

          He was a standing there as still as one of his sisters' teddy bears a lying on the bed, and of a sudden, he sensed that his nerve had returned from that little vacation it had been a taking. He turned toward that darkness and flung a final challenge at it. "My Mama is as pretty as a slender, first-blooming, dogwood sapling, and my Daddy, they tell me, is the toughest and meanest man in Pike County. So, you ain't a scaring me none. I'm a coming in there right now, and there ain't a thing you can do about it, except peel potatoes." Abruptly, he walked into the eye of darkness.

          That hole he was a walking in did not come to be natural-like, Trey. It was born of a shovel that was its daddy, and nursed to life by the coal-dusted sweat a falling off of a fellow's brow, a tearing the soul from him. Nary a blessed mother claimed that dark child as the sprout from her seed. Nary a father, 'cepting a shovel, showed it to the way of life. Base born she was, and base born she will be till the day she caves in on herself...a motherless child a crying in the wind a whipping acrost her mouth.

          I can still remember things, Trey. I do not know why...The songs come riding through the darkness, and I sing the songs. Pick out the bone, pick out the bone!

         A voice cries within me... The winter wails out for the hard, black coal you sweated offen the seam it lay in. Bring me the coal, and a generous helping of the fine kindling wood you scoured the mountains clean of, and I will set the plate for the fire. Give me a big wad of the read copies of the Williamson Daily News, just one match from the kitchen, and I will strike it to the fire. The lit fire in winter will burn the tears from your face.

          Go on, son. Get me that bushel basket full of kindling, the one you always cheated me on in the gathering of wood from the hills. The one you would always build false bottom tepees in afore you covered it over with kindling sticks. ...and a thinking I wouldn't notice. I noticed, son, but my heart was not that hard. I give you your way in that. I knew that a boy must need have him some pride in a thing, no matter how small a thing the pride comes from. I didn't deprive you of that. I stood there and watched you empty that basket, son, and the smile in my heart told me just how proud of you I was for a standing up like that.

          Get me that old basket, son, and take it to the hills. When you come back and set that basket at my feet, I need that basket to be full of the finest kindling wood ever to be brought from these hills. ...And I don't care, son, if you have to go all the way to Chattaroy, West Virginia to do it.

          I keep on a hearing that voice a talking to me, Trey. It will not be silent. I never was a one who cared to hear a voice speaking in his head, Trey. I mean...I have already heard the words the first time they were said, and I do not care to have someone trespass in my mind. Along with my heart, my mind is a sacred place where only I can go.

         ...And I hear another voice crying out to me. I am momentarily stunned when I recognize it as my own. The voice is filled with misery, despair and anger. Concealed beneath these three temporary occupants, there lies hurt, disgust and the special love a son carries for his father. The voice is singing a song, a little ditty, and it goes like this: Pick out the bone! Pick out the bone! Pick out the bone, for it won't burn. Pick out the damn bone, boy. It ain't no good, for it won't burn.

          Trey, bone will not burn. I state my evidence that I have been burned on the bone's account more than once. See here, Trey. I want to make it plain what it is that I am a saying. I ain't a talking about your ordinary, every day sort of bone, like a ham bone, or nary other sort of bone akin to it, what be a coming from the flesh. No sir! The bone I am calling down the why fors on is the kind that a man could say, and be a speaking true every word that was a coming from his mouth, Wherever a man be a finding coal a dwelling, there also, he will find a measure of bone a living in the same house with it.

          See, Trey, bone is what accounts for those little mounds you can see all around the mouth of a coal mine, and there is some folks what call it slag. There is a place for everything, Trey. Take that bone for a talking about, it has to be somewhere, Trey. I reckon that bone taken and thought on it and decided to take up a dwelling alongside of coal. Now, whether it made that decision out of its bitterness in not a being a useful thing, or whether it done it in order to make a honest man cuss when he's a mining for coal and a digging nothing but bone, that right there is a thing for the bone to confess, cause I ain't a knowing me the answer to that question.

          There is a thing I am a knowing about bone, Trey. If it is a hiding right in amongst the coal, who is the man that will fault a fellow ifen a portion of it is mined along with the coal? There is always that man a standing there, Trey. He is the man who always has those words ready on his lips to fault the other fellow, when it is only a matter of letting the nature of things of this earth take their rightful courses according to the laws set out for them. He is the man who wears a smile on his face when he sees pain has taken a tight grasp on your heart.


in progress...