J.A. Bolton | Thompson Family Reunion continues Part III

As the day of the Thompson Reunion is winding down, we make our way across the hollow to visit my great Uncle L.D. Thompson and his wife Aunt Rilla.

Why, you have seen pictures of old mountain homes sitting atop a mountain with a long winding road leading to the house. Well, this was it. If’en it had been raining much, we’d just walk up to the house, but most of the time our old ‘50 model Ford would make it to the top with a minimum amount of spinning in that red clay.

As we made our way into Uncle L.D.’s yard, they would always see us coming and were waiting on the porch to greet us. Uncle L.D. had long since retired from farming but he still liked to wear his bib overalls, a suit coat, and a pair of brogan shoes. Aunt Rilla was a rather short and stocky lady who always wore a homemade apron around her waist.

As we got out of the car Aunt Rilla would lift up her apron and wipe the Tuberose snuff from around her mouth. Then she would precede to give you a big hug and one of her juicy kisses. Seems like when you are a little fellow you have to endure a lot of things.

Well, I knew things were going to get better when Uncle L.D. would say, “Come on boy, let’s go out to the well and draw-up a gallon of fresh cow’s milk.” You see, they didn’t have an icebox so they would pour their fresh cow’s milk into a gallon jar and keep it cool by putting it in the well bucket and lowering it down in their hand dug well. It was my job, that day, to wind on the old wooden windless crank handle and bring the bucket to the top of the well.

After drawing up the milk from the well, we’d take it inside the house where Aunt Rilla would just be slicing a freshly made deep dish apple pie. Now folks this won’t your store bought pie, no-sir-re. Why them apples had been picked from a tree right there in her yard, peeled, sliced, and placed on a hot tin roof to dry out. Aunt Rilla also made her own homemade crust and baked the pie in their woodstove. After it was done, she would place the pie on the open window sill to cool. Why even the crust was so good if it broke off you dare not brush it aside but popped it in your mouth. Then I washed all this down with a large glass of fresh cow’s milk and no I didn’t care if it ran down my chin, chin, chin.

After all this, I was ready to take a nap, but the reunion day wasn’t over till I followed Uncle L.D. down to the barn to feed his old mule and cow. Some of the tin was missing off the top of the barn and it looked pretty well run-down but it stood as a memorial to the Thompson farm.

As we opened the barn door, there hanging on the wall were old mule bridles, singletrees, and several mule harnesses. Along the floor lay several old plows that had seen their better

days. Why an antique dealer would have thought he had died and gone to heaven in that old barn.

While Uncle L.D. fed the stock, I’d climb up in the barn loft and play on the bales of hay. To this day I can hear Uncle L.D. saying, “Boy, don’t you tear up my hay up there, you hear.”

Well, I’d play up there for a spell, then I’d jump out of the barn loft to the ground below where there just happened to be an old hay rake. The rake was mule-drawn and still had a medal seat with a hole drilled in it to let the water out and keep your behind cool.

Won’t long I would jump on the seat of the hay rake and pretend I was driving a team of two beautiful black horses with shiny leather harnesses; around and around a large hay field.

Bout that time I’d hear a car horn and I knew my folks were ready to go. I’d start up the hill toward the house looking forward to next year at the reunion.

You know as the years go by and I get older and older, sometimes in my mind, I catch myself looking back down that hill to the old barn. Also just across the hollow, I can almost hear the faint sound of good old gospel music coming from the little church in the oak grove. As my mind wanders back, I sometimes feel a little tear or two coming down my cheeks as my memories take me back to the days of the Thompson Reunion.