The Red Flannel Rag

the railing, and spread her legs wide open. She did not wear any under pants. John and I

looked and compared the view to a groundhog hole we had discovered in the fencerow next

to the pasture. On some occasions, we compared the same view to a muskrat slide that we

had seen when we placed our traps in Muddy Creek to catch a muskrat or two.

Aunt Mavis led a tragic life. As ugly as she was, she seemed to have no problem

attracting men and, she was accused of running around on her husband. He drank a lot of

moonshine and would come home and accuse her of running around with other men. He

threw rocks at her and, on many occasions, he told her to start running. He got his .22 rifle

and shot behind her heels until she was out of sight. He laughed as the bullets kicked the

dust up behind her.

Tragically, Aunt Mavis’s ugliness was used to discipline me, and I suspect, many of

the children in Hopkins Gap. When I misbehaved, my mother told me I looked like Aunt

Mavis. I was appalled and would have rather had a beating. I recall visiting Uncle Lurty

with the family one evening, when suddenly Uncle Lurty turned to me and told me I looked

like Aun t Mavis. I looked back at him and said, “Yes, and you are a son -of-a- bitch.” I was

about five years old, and my dad looked me in the eye and said, “You will pay for that when

you get home.” Sure enough when we got home he took off his wide belt that i n the eyes of a

five year old seemed at least ten inches wide, and whipped me all around the front porch

swing. He told me I must tell Uncle Lurty I was sorry for calling him a son-of-a-bitch. I

had no choice. I apologized, but I never liked Uncle Lurty after that occasion and waited for

the moment I could let him know I didn’t like him. The moment came when I was sixteen.

It was a Sunday morning, and he dropped by our house to visit. He asked me why I wasn’t

married yet. I responded, “I will never marry because the chances are I would marry a man

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