|
Leslie
Underwood’s family were members of an Anabaptist sect of Christians that,
like the Amish, stressed humility, family and community, but did not
particularly promote separation from the outside world, i.e., they didn’t
have televisions or subscribe to secular magazines or newspapers, but they did
own utilitarian pickup trucks, modern farm equipment and fired up old radios
to listen to the news and farm market reports.
They
were renowned for their hard work and though they liked to consider themselves
"plain people" they were held in great esteem by the rest of us.
While the agricultural economy back where I’m from stalled and other family
farms were lost to the auctioneer’s hammer, Leslie’s people seemed to
prosper.
The
ladies of the community sold homemade pies, cakes and cookies at a small
bakery on part of their property adjoining the state highway that runs through
the county. The men from Leslie’s clan were farmers… very efficient
farmers.
They
had a ready-made work force within the families. They bred their own beef
cattle and had dairy cows for milk, butter and cheese. They also raised
chickens for meat and eggs and had a smokehouse with rafters sagging from the
weight of pork. They’d repair old equipment instead of buying new and built
their own houses and out buildings.
The
children of these farmers worked in the fields or apprenticed for a skill
instead of wasting their time interacting with less hardy people like us.
Pretty much all they did was work. So, to say that Leslie Underwood was all
but oblivious to what was happening in the real world would have been an
understatement. He’d been with his father and uncles around the state and
even into other states to buy equipment and livestock, but that was about as
far as his travels extended.
Their
self-sufficiency kept their heads above water, but they also stayed informed.
They kept abreast of the latest technology in agricultural inputs by keeping
up with what was offered at their Co-op store, by talking to their county
agent and by attending farm shows.
One
of the biggest Farm and Equipment Show Extravaganzas ever was going to be in
New Orleans and Eugene Capps, another young farmer, asked Leslie if he wanted
to go with him and a couple of other guys for the two day event. Since he was
old enough (he’d just turned 21), the crops were in and it was too rainy to
do much of anything else, he decided to go.
Leslie,
first of all, didn’t understand, when they got to the hotel, how Eugene
could just hand his car keys to a perfect stranger and watch him drive off. He
couldn’t figure out why a fellow in a red army uniform with a funny looking
hat kept trying to take his luggage. He walked to the reception desk looking
up with mouth and eyes wide opened. He reckoned this place to be bigger than
the Indian cave near Hick’s Hollow. He hadn’t gotten over the queasiness
of the elevator ride when he crept out onto the terrace of their room. They
were on the 23rd floor…by far, the highest off the ground Leslie had ever
been or ever wanted to be. Eugene suggested that they all go find something to
eat. Leslie insisted that it was nearly 9 p.m. and that nothing would be open.
They laughed all the way down the elevator as Leslie sat on the floor with his
head between his knees to avoid further nausea.
The
other young men had been to New Orleans and knew about some really good oyster
bars. Once in the restaurant, Leslie agreed with his friends that an oyster
did look like something from an ox’s nose and with considerable trepidation,
agreed to try one with a Saltine and a goodly portion of horseradish sauce.
And then he had another. Then another, then another until he’d eaten upwards
of two dozen. He would have eaten more if it hadn’t been for the insistence
from his buddies that they had a lot to see and had to sleep some before the
next day’s show.
He’d
never seen anything like it. Before that night, the most people Leslie had
seen in one place were at a couple of high school football games he had
attended with Eugene. This was incredible. It was midnight and the streets
were wall to wall people: skinny people, fat people, tall people, short
people, people with suits on, people with tunics and robes, men with capes,
people dressed like American Indians, people of all colors and nationalities…all
there on the street with him.
He
was grinning uncontrollably when suddenly everybody ducked and shuffled toward
the side walk, pulling him in tow. He looked back to see a very tall, muscular
woman with a deep voice and a three o’clock shadow waving a stadium glass in
one hand and a Derringer in the other while shouting hurtful words at no one
in particular. Almost as soon as it started, the big woman stuffed the little
gun in her bustier and staggered into a darkened doorway. Leslie thought that
he could live to be as old as Methuselah and never see anything like that on
the farm!
Street
musicians were on every corner…and they were good! Never seen that back
home. A man was spurting flames out of his mouth, straight up into the air! He’d
never seen anything like that before. A contortionist tied up in a knot while
balancing on a stool! Never again would he see that. So many people had
tattoos. Nobody on the farm did.
When
his friends told him they were headed to a gentlemen’s club, Leslie thought,
as he followed them, how his momma had always been on him about being polite
and watching his manners. Having done these things properly all his life, he
surely must qualify as a gentleman by now. But, no sooner had his eyes
adjusted from entering the glaring red, yellow and green neon lighted doorway,
did he grab his face and nearly knock a bouncer down as he ran back into the
street yelping something about going blind! Strangely enough, Leslie HAD
experienced something like this back on the farm. At about age 12 he
accidentally walked in on his visiting cousin Sylvia as she stepped out of the
shower. Eugene was lucky to have chased him down so soon there in New Orleans.
After the Sylvia encounter, it took his folks the best part of a day.
Disclaimer:
The story you just read is based on reality. The names have been changed to
protect the innocent. Any likeness any character in this story has to you,
your family or anybody you know or have known is completely coincidental.
|
