As I remember, I was pretty much raised in taverns. When I was very young my mother started sending me with my father to union meetings. She always said union meetings were for men to listen to somebody talk and then go drink beer. I figured out later that she did not trust him being out drinking and being around tavern girls who may have had somewhat loose morals.
My uncle Tom and aunt Irene always had a weekend place in Calhoun county, Illinois. They tried to have children and failed for many years, so they would take me with them to Calhoun county ostensibly to go fishing. Sometimes it would rain all weekend long. No problem, they would spend the weekend in the Crossroads tavern and I would be there with them. Early on, I had to use the restroom there, the multitude of soda pops forced me to go to the restroom. The restrooms there were labled Pointer and Setter. When I came back my aunt asked me which I used. I replied I was not sure which to use, but I did not know what a pointer was, but I knew a setter was a big dog, so I used that one. Bad choice, but I was that young I did not know.
When I was in late grade school I had braces on my teeth and that required adjustments every two weeks. My grandfather would take me to the dentist because he worked the 6 AM to 2:30 shift at the postoffice and was there to take me to the dentist. We would always go to the tavern there afterward. He introduced me to pin ball machines there and started my gambling experience,
Later in high school my father and grand-father bought a club house on a slough off the Mississippi river. Grandpa still worked at the postoffice and he was always ready to go fishing after I got home from school. Every trip started with a stop at Russ and Mary’s tavern where he could get bait, a hamburger and a six pack to take to the clubhouse and fish. I was okay getting a six of Frosty rootbeer. We usually stopped at Russ and Mary’s afterward so he could drink a little more beer on the way home. Russ and Mary’s is still there today, although I am sure they are both long gone at this point.
My uncle Kenny used to stay on Saturday nights at the clubhouse and when Sunday morning came he would drive me and my brother and father to church in West Alton, Missouri. He would drop us off at church and I remember asking him why he did not go into church with us. He would say he was going to his church just down the street. We would walk down there after our services were over. His church was a tavern and he and dad would have a couple of beers before returning to the clubhouse. In his defence, Kenny had been through several invasions on Japanese islands including Saipan and Guam and more I do not know about. I suppose that was enough for him to think differently about going to church. I know now that he saw things no human being should ever have to see. I suppose he gave up on church after that.
All of this is no excuse for my drinking, except for possibly holding up the family tradition. I do not know where my father or my uncles went after death, nor do I know where I will end up; but they were for the most part good men and I hope they ended up in the right place. My grandfather was a wonderful human being and I know he is in heaven. It is my thought that all U.S. combat veterans should end up in heaven, because they have already been in hell. May God bless them all. Wherever they are I want to be with them.
No comments:
Post a Comment