By Allen Hamrick
Hey folks, Zeb here scratching some tales out for ya. It’s Christmas time here in the hills and time for all bad to become good and all good to just get better. Even the toughest here about, Buck Tater, grows out his whiskers for two days, sprays it white with a can of paint and puts on his best red suit for the kiddies. They love what he does, and nobody better say anything about it for fear of a lump of coal upside the head on Christmas Day +1. The hospital gets its normal run of men folk who are attempting to hang the prize lights on the highest part of their sheds and forget they have a ladder under them. It’s off to the hospital with busted backs and egos. The winner is judged by the local women’s’ secret society (all the wives) on the best overall look. Most of them look like they tried to hang lights on a running buffalo and got all tangled up in it.
The winner most of the years is Rood Dellar who refuses to be like everybody else, so he puts up his glowing chicken eggs which he calls his howling moon specials. He always gets the ribbon and proudly displays it on his rooster’s neck. He turns it loose to run so the whole community would know who won. Nobody knows how he does it, but he does. The annual Christmas parade, called the Jackass brigade named in part to all the Jackasses that are in it, is held. None of the local horses will brave the cold to participate. So, on they come smiling as only a jackass can do to the cheers of all who attend; it’s their day to shine and they do just that. They pull wagons, dance, (firecracker induced) haul the local yokels with their singing guitars and, of course, carry the Christmas Day Queen. This year, it is none other than Granny Izzle who, at 92, still looks like she is 22; not sure how she does that either. Some speculate that her and Rood Dellar use the inside of the howling moon egg to somehow make her younger, but the jury is still out on that. One thing that’s big on the lists that float through families this time of year is presents. I am gonna show you a gift you can whittle, and it’s one of my favorites to make. Being a wood lovin’ man, I like making my own traps from fishin” to huntin’ and you can whittle them from branches. One of my favorite gifts to give is knowledge, and in the coming weeks as wintertime holes us up around the fire place, pull out yer knife and give some of the tips I give you a try. Until then, from Zeb and family have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year.
