First Kiss, A Boys Path to Manhood

By Ernie Payne

Follows a young intellectual from graduation, loss of both parents, and alienation from the coal town. He encounters the man that allegedly killed his mother. The mother had challenged him to not kiss the girl until after he says, "I do."His paranoia causes him to live rough while evading the searching peace officers on his tail. Kiddo is a stray he befriends. There are many confrontations occurring in his way. One time he went to the home of the sheriff that was on his and Kiddo's trail. He finds love with a girl living and working at a truck stop. Paranoia again steps in , he flees the restaurant. once again, he is sleeping in the forest, and is doing well until he crosses with local poachers. he runs, but suffers a serious injury. This led him into a world of intrigue and deciphering secret texts. His end is in going back to the restaurant.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ernie Payne
• Release date: Mar 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005240035

Ernie Payne

Mr. Payne is a retired computer engineer, a retired cattle rancher, and a ten year veteran. He recently decided to visit hos home town via writing stories of the coal town era. There are five in this series. Hew lives with his wife of 57 years and a three-year-old and a two-year-old. His current work is a trip into white coal. most know of black and brown coal. Mr. Payne is an expert in the white coal arena. The title is 'The Last Bugly' that was a coal miner and a son of a coal miner. If my books do not sell, I will be a , former writer.

Book preview

The First Kiss

A Boys Path to Manhood

Written by

Ernest F. Payne

Copyright 2014 Ernest F. Payne

This story is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events in this novel

are either product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

I dedicate this book to my father and mother, a coal miner, and his wife.

So Peter opened his mouth and said, Truly, I understand that God shows no partiality" (Act 10:34) ESV

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Epilog

End

TOC

Chapter One

Fall 1926

Tomorrow will be Whitey’s first day in the twelfth grade. A new class always made him nervous and unsettled, but this one will be different. He is about to enter the twelfth-grade land of giants relative to a twelve-year-old. He feared the day because of his new classmates. Five boys, children of influential families, would be there. In previous grades, they were not a problem, but now they would be together all day. Singularly, he could handle one, but they worked as a team; five mean boys. He was afraid, and his fear clouded his thoughts." I can’t tell my Dad, but he won’t understand. I just cannot say I am afraid of those boys. What will he think of me" he thought.

He skipped a grade every year, beginning with the first one. As a result, his new classmates were always older and more significant size-wise than he was. The lower grades were not a concern, but in the upper classes, the disparity grew. Bullying occurred in some fashion at every level; it was usually verbal, or sometimes crowding or pushing him into a corner. However, in the twelfth grade, he is entering the personification of bullying. There were five boys, and they were always together. They tormented every student they could, and as he later discovered the teachers. Avoiding them was how he managed through the lower grades, but now they would be in the same room. He is twelve and fearful of what was coming.

The Five consisted of the big three and a little two; that is how he describes them. The other two were hangers-on, riding on the coattails of the power the others. Their strength lay in their size and that they were sons of prominent men in Page. The curious thing about them is they are straight-A students. He never understood why because they had no comprehension of the fundamentals of education. Instead, you know the old saying, They couldn’t add their way out of a paper bag The Boy’s grade promotions resulted from his mother’s diligence and the method she reared him. When he was four, she began teaching him to read. Every day they practiced a new word and its meaning. She skipped the traditional alphabet path and went to her method, which was memorization. When he entered the first grade, his vocabulary consisted of at least 350 words. He could read and comprehend a newspaper. On the first day of class, he asked the teacher, Why are we studying letters instead of words?

She answered, We need letters to make words.

I already know words; I do not need to know the letters, he countered with confidence.

She handed him a reader and said, Show me, please.

To her amazement, he did; she wrote a note and said, Give this to your mother, please.

When he arrived home, he handed the note to his mom. Mom, the teacher gave me this.

Son, it is the first day, and I get something from the teacher. What have you done?

The letter wanted his mom to come to school for a conference. He moved up two grades; his promotion to the third grade only occurred because he passed several tests. It was traumatic. He excelled in class but failed in social ability.

His Mom and Dad were of French origin. That is not precisely accurate; they spoke French, but he did not know their home countries. They immigrated to America and moved to this coal-mining town near the time of his birth. It was as though their past did not exist. From their actions, when the subject might come up, they steered clear of it. He sensed something terrible had happened. The past was past, and they wanted nothing to do with it. His Dad was a coal miner, a curious trade for an immigrant with his intellect. They both spoke English, but his mother’s accent made it difficult to understand her conversation. As he grew older, he became her interpreter for occasions when she needed him. She would speak; he would repeat what she said. It was curious, but his mother’s personality overshadowed her requiring a representative; to him, it seemed that was the reality. They discouraged him from learning French, so he obeyed. They spoke French, which excluded him from the discussion though he picked up enough of the language to get-around-in-it, hence his accidental French. It was their private communication, their intimate talk. He did not listen then. He is their only child, and his mother wanted something more for him.

Morning came too soon. He rode the bus to school in the past, but he stopped because of the aggravation of constantly being reminded he was very white. Instead, he walked to school. Everyone walked to the hard road at the bridge over Loup Creek that flowed through the town. Most roads in their village were dirt with no overlay. They called them hard-roads. The students would board the bus at the bridge and ride to school; it was less than a mile. Today, though, he would walk to avoid the five. At school, there was no way to get away from them. Each grade stayed in the same room with the same teacher for every class. The five would be a dark presence, more on him than the others would. He could not hide from them because he is white; his skin is very white, and his hair. One had to look closely to see his eyelashes and eyebrows. The only color on his body is his red eyes. Some said he could put a hex on them by staring them down with his eyes. Thus they avoided him. His hair was long and had large curls. This protected his neck from sunburn, and it naturally curled; his mom wanted it long. Being very white made him a target, and he felt it in his knotted gut.

Mom fixed oatmeal for his breakfast. Big day today, son, she said as he entered the kitchen. Without enthusiasm, he said, Yes, it is. "Dad left for work earlier. The boy dumped the food into his queasy stomach and headed out the door. He walked toward the bus stop, striding away on the dirt streets, crossing a small wooden bridge over Molly Kincaid Branch, a stream near the coalmine’s Superintendent’s house. Then he entered a large grassy area with a well-worn path. There were shorter ways to reach the bridge on the road, bypassing through the rail yards, but everyone crosses at the railroad crossing. The rail yards were busy with moving hopper cars filled with mined coal. At the railroad crossing, he turned right or south. Others were walking onto the bus stop as he made his way over the rail beds toward the school. Sometimes he walked on the tracks as a tightrope walker would do or stutter-step on the rail ties.

Arriving at school, the boy hung out in the hallway near his classroom, waiting for the big five to show. When they entered the room, he remained a few minutes and walked into the room. He located where they sat and headed to the place to be far away as possible. When they saw him, they hooted, Hey, the freak is here. Freak was a name used more than occasionally, so it was something Whitey learned to pretend to ignore. Some folks just did not understand. When one looked skinny and acted reserved, one determines it is best to ignore most things, especially unwinnable battles.

The teacher came, and they hooted her though they did not call her freak. Our books were at our desks. Thanks to his Mom, he previously read each book over the summer, a task he had duplicated every year. Miss Bruce went through the syllabi of each course that took the duration of the first period. She then called a recess at the bell rang.

Without any forethought, the boy headed for the restroom; so did the five. They blocked him from leaving and forced everyone else to exit. The largest one held him, arms behind his back and his stomach fully exposed and vulnerable. The others, in turn, punched him four times in the stomach and once in the face. He counted each blow to know when it would be over; it is fundamental math, five by five is twenty-five. He tried to tense his stomach muscles to lessen the impact. He watched the fist of each assailant, which allowed him to move his head in such a way that the punch would land on his forehead and not his nose. The former did not help, but the latter resulted in some yelps of pain when a hand hit his forehead, and he did not get the whole twenty-five. He read somewhere the forehead is the most rigid bone in one’s body. He hoped for some broken hand bones. At the conclusion, his body summarily dropped to the floor and curled to the fetal position. The biggest one left, then returned and kicked him in the chest and then walked away without a word. The bell rang. Recess was finished; so was the Whitey.

He lay on the floor for a while without moving; He took some accurate shots in the stomach; he almost cried. He thought, "I should have known; I should have watched them." Looking back, he thought it was strange that no one came looking for him, but now he needed to get home. He needed to get up and survey the damage, so with absolute determination, he rolled onto his hands and knees and then forced his body up quickly. He did not feel as bad as he thought it would. His stomach was not sore; it hurt inside. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he knew a black eye was coming, but the redness of his forehead above his left eye meant they missed more than connected. He walked out the bathroom door, turned away from the classroom, and made for the exit, pushing out and heading home. As he walked, his stomach started to pain; it made him hunch up at the waist and walk decidedly bent forward. Upon arrival at home, he explained what had happened. Mom surveyed the damage and put him to bed. We will wait for your father to come home. She spoke as though it were a minor scuffle.

Whitey was asleep when his Father arrived. He awoke the boy and checked him over. He said, We will talk tomorrow Whitey rolled over but did not go back to sleep. What his Father meant was, Let me think about the proper response to this Whitey rose before dinner and tried to have an ordinary evening despite what lay ahead. He did not say it, but Whitey thought his parents looked at this as part of growing up and learning how to live with people. They were aware of his lack of standing with his peers, and they let him work it through in his own way. God would determine his path through life, and he had to walk it depending on God.

When his Dad arrived the next day, the boy was up; Mom had kept him from school. His injuries were a tender midsection, and he could not see well out of his left eye; there was an accompanying knot above the black eye. They ate dinner and did not speak about any of the altercation or beatings. While Mom cleaned up the kitchen that was usually the boy’s assigned chore, Dad said, Let’s sit on the back porch and chat.

He started with, You know if you do not do something, you will have to put up with this the rest of the school year, maybe even as long as you live here. Those boys will always be around. You could go to the principal, but you still would have to face them. I hear they fear no one.

What should I do?

Well, son, you need an equalizer. You also need to understand a bully, and that is what those five are. In a group, they are fearless. They get their power from the leader, the stronger one. Alone, they are not as brave; even the strongest one gets his power from his followers. Here is something to give you the upper hand. Tomorrow, go in late, say lunchtime, when everyone is outside. Use this and walk up to the biggest one and hit him with it; hit him as many times as you can. Run if he starts after you; do not let him hit you again. If you fight back, the bully will back down; once they see you will stand against bullies, they will move to a weaker target. He handed Whitey a wool sock, and inside was a rather large sweet potato. He explained, Use it as a club. It will give you an advantage, and when they see you will fight back, they will cease troubling you.

Whitey took the sock and swung it around as his Father instructed. Whitey struck the railing, which had a raincoat draped over. It popped, and he said, Okay, I am ready. Tomorrow I will go back to school.

~~~~~

During the night, Whitey visualized himself hitting every one of the five simultaneously, one after the other falling under his blows. He wanted all of them at once. In his mind, the son swung the sock time after time. It was a restless night as he troubled over the assault. He left for school at the usual time and took the same path he did the first day. When he got to a certain point going via the tracks, he crossed over the creek. Stepping stone to stone, he searched for a rock the size of the sweet potato. Finding one, he exchanged the sweet potato for stone, putting the sweet potato into his pocket. His Dad instructed, but Whitey did not think the potato would hold up against the five. After arriving at the creek’s bank, he removed the rock and tossed it back into Loup Creek, replacing the sweet potato. Speaking aloud, he said, That may not have a satisfied dad if I didn’t do it his way.

In the hallway going towards his classroom, he saw the five make their entrance. He wanted them in their seats. He came with the sock in his right hand, nothing else. His swollen left eye looked closed, but he could see with the right eye. The path to his seat was straight, but he turned left to pass beside the five. After battering them, he crossed behind the other students, arriving at his place without difficulties

The room erupted into a melee; everyone was crowding toward the five. The boy was confused, and Miss Bruce was in a dither, wanting to do something. She dispatched a student to fetch the principal. Finally, he came in, and minutes later, the doctor arrived. The doctor immediately decided they needed hospital attention. Soon ambulances came and carried them off. Someone escorted the boy to the principal’s office as an ambulance arrived.

His mom showed up, but she did not speak to him. She was not angry, and it was not the proper time for anger. So she stood watching and waiting.

Mr. Hensley started to interrogate Whitey, Why did you do this to those children? he demanded.

He replied, I did nothing to those boys.

Mr. Hensley was the school principal, and one of the boys was his son. Miss Bruce, what did you see?

Whitey, why are you deceptive? I saw you strike those boys with that sock you had; don’t deny it.

Whitey stuck to his story, I did not do it. Mr. Hensley asked to have one boy come to the meeting. Jerry, were you beside my son when he Whitey attacked him?

Yes, sir.

What did you see?

I saw Whitey come into the room, and as he walked past James, he struck James with a sock, and James fell to the floor. He then proceeded to do the same to the other four boys.

Did Whitey say anything to James?

He said, Whiteboy say how you like those apples, James.

The school principal’s son, James Hensley, was the biggest and leader of the Five. Then it was Tim Pencil, the 2nd son of Walter Pencil, who happened to be the School Superintendent, and Jimmy, the oldest son of John Harper, the Mine Superintendent. Brothers Owen and Larry French followed them.

Mr. Hensley asked for the sock, and the boy handed it to him along with the potato.

Why do you deny it when you have a weapon in your hand? This is what you used? What you say could not have been so; you did too much damage.

Whitey remained silent, but Miss Bruce rose to defend him. I warned you about your son Mr. Hensley, and the others. Stop harassing this boy; maybe those ruffians got what they deserved. Look at this boy’s face; your son did that to him the first day. Wait for the Constable; he can question him.

His mom finally weighed in, Whitey what have you done? she exclaimed in an overwrought voice. She had held her silence until now, and she realized she should have remained silent.

Whitey is his name, and it comes from White Boy. Aunt Jay, his mother’s best friend, delivered him. Supposedly, she exclaimed, Oh, It is a very white boy. Therefore, the name has stuck; He did not know his real name. No one ever used it around him. No one ever called him by Taylor, his last name, like other boys.

I did not do what they say, Mom, even though everyone says I did it.

Miss Bruce had come to the principals’ office right away to protect him. After all, it was Mr. Hensley’s son, James Hensley, unconscious on the classroom floor. Soon the School Superintendent Walter Pencil, Tim Pencil’s Father, arrived. However, the Coalmine Superintendent, and Father of Jimmy Harper, did not show up. The school board would decide his fate, and they grudgingly set the boy free. Whitey went home with his mom.

On the way, suddenly, the boy said, Whitey say they not fair to Whitey.

Mom said, What did you say, Whitey?

I did not say anything.

You did not say anything about your being mistreated?

No, I have not said anything since we left the school building.

Now Whitey is a problem; Mom thinks the Boy changes into another person when he is stressed or fearful. Whitey became Whitey. Usually, Whitey is a coward but feels the need to care for others, especially those that cannot defend themselves or violate any sense of fairness. His protector is Whitey, and when he is active, he becomes his alter ego. Sometimes Whitey becomes agitated and talks erratically. Whitey was not convinced it was real until now. He did not know where Whitey ends, and Whitey begins in this scenario, but he did know Whitey did not pick up the rock.

Dad came home. He had heard most of the stories before he arrived. He said, That was plenty of work for a sweet potato.

I guess I am stronger than I thought, Whitey muttered, automatically a pretense by implication. It was his sin of choice.

He followed with, You did well standing up for yourself. That is what you should always do. I don’t understand the denial of hitting the boys; you act as though you don’t remember the action or incident. Do you have an answer to that?

Honestly, Dad, I don’t remember doing it; I went over and over it in my mind all night long; what I was going to do. I guess I did it without thinking.

Well, we will let it rest for now. Go to bed.

It was early, but he obeyed and went to bed. He hurt in many places and had too much excitement for one day. Shortly, there were voices outside. Mom came in and said, You have company, come into the living room.

It was Mr. Victor, Mrs. Randall, Miss Jacobs, and Miss Bruce. Mr. Victor asked, How are you feeling. We are so sorry for what has happened to you.

I am sore from the punches, but otherwise, I am fine, he responded.

Miss Bruce continued, We want to thank you for what you did.

Surprised, he questioned, Thank me? That was not what he expected to hear.

Yes, those boys have pushed the teachers, including me, around for years. They demanded good grades without working for them. Their parents were too powerful, and we just couldn’t stand up to them. I hope you understand. I guess we were just cowards. Mrs. Randall spoke with real intensity.

Confessing to a child was something unspeakable to him anyway. Well, it staggered him. Whitey answered, Well, yes, I understand. I was afraid of them before I arrived at school. They had a reputation, as you know.

Miss Bruce continued, You are brilliant, and we are going to take care of you and your schooling. Anyway, we are going to push to have you graduated as of now. Most of the teachers say you know more about our subjects than we do. We are all in agreement on the graduation, and we will be at the board meeting to have our say in the matter.

In the class, Whitey possessed an irritating way of pointing out that what a teacher presented did not always square with the book’s content. Occasionally, he also added that he did not think either the book or teacher was right. Of course, then The Boy would offer his thought on what was the correct notion. It irked the teachers and the other students; sometimes, he would talk for ten minutes on a subject. Ironically, Whitey had vowed to himself to keep his mouth shut during class throughout this final year. He never made it entirely through the first day of the course, but he did keep his vow.

Wow, all I can do is say thank you. She had called him intelligent, but he was not really that way. It is just that he read a lot and could recall what he learned.

Miss Bruce hugged him hard and left.

~~~~~

They scheduled the board meeting for Friday evening. Dad called a family prayer meeting. They gathered around the kitchen table, held hands, and Dad asked God’s blessings on them and for His will to be completed at the meeting.

Mom said, Whitey, I want you to admit striking those boys; I don’t want anyone to know there are two of you in that body. I want Whitey to keep his mouth shut, period. Is that understood?

Yes, Ma’am.

Mom and Dad had to walk to the school, which was embarrassing for them to do that. As they neared, the school Mom asked, Whitey, did you use a rock to hit those boys?

No, it was a sweet potato, Ma’am.

Do you see how much trouble you would have brought to us by disobeying your Father? At least you did that right.

Yes, Ma’am.

People packed the room when the family walked in, and they were early. Someone escorted them to the table in front of the room. The sounds and rhubarb of intense arguments and conversations filled the air. The boy sat too nervous; his stomach was tight and knotted.

Mr. Walter Pencil called the meeting to order precisely on time. He said, Welcome to this meeting for unprecedented violent behavior that occurred several days ago. He gave instructions that we will maintain order. Everyone would get his or her turn to speak but in an orderly fashion. One had to stand for recognition. One man stood immediately, and then two more did likewise.

Mr. Pencil quietly said, We are here to determine the result of the actions of one Whitey Taylor; nothing else is on the table.

He looked at Whitey and asked, Did you strike five boys in the classroom of the Page high school?

Yes, sir; I did, and I am sorry. I acted rashly.

I’m pleased you are now admitting to your actions, but there is a severe corollary to what has occurred.

He looked down at the table and said, The injuries to the boys are not life-threatening, but two of them will need some additional medical treatment. I consider this a serious crime, and I will treat it as so. However, I will leave that to the authorities.

Now, we will go to the discussion before the board makes a decision. The first person standing, what is your comment or question?

How can you be fair to the boy considering your son’s involvement? I think you should step down and let some others make a decision about this.

There were many in agreement with the first man.

Mr. Pencil went on, It is true what you said, but I believe I can be fair and impartial in judgment. We will consider it; next.

The second person fiercely said, I have nothing against the boy, but I don’t like him putting hexes and spells on individuals using those red eyes. It just isn’t Christian like to do such things.

Mr. Pencil asked, Pastor, do you have an answer to that question.

What the gentleman is suggesting is ludicrous; no spells are coming from people’s eyes. If we start believing that nonsense, we just as well ditch Christianity and practice Voodoo or Hoodoo. The boy cannot do anything with his eyes but see the same as everyone else does. People, please don’t start believing such claptrap; we have enough issues without adding nonsense to the mix.

At that moment, the teachers stood as a group. The sound of so many people simultaneously rising caused a buzz. Mr. Pencil looked their way and was surprised. What do you have to add to this?

Miss Bruce started, Mr. Pencil; I speak for the entire teaching staff; you are exclusively responsible for what has happened. You allowed your son to terrorize every student and teacher as well. You and I have discussed his attitude and behavior many times; you have condoned what he did, and, as a result, you are guilty of his action. Your son is not in any fashion an ‘A’ student. He obtained those grades through extortion and threats; furthermore, he used your name to get his way. Whitey Taylor is an ‘A’ student; he is the best student I have ever taught. Not because of his knowledge, but because of his diligence. She paused to take a breath, and she looked around the room for a moment. Your staff members, the teachers, have agreed that Whitey Taylor should be graduated with honors as the result of this meeting. He is the first person who stood up to the school bullies, and, frankly speaking, you should be ashamed of yourself for a father.

She sat, and applause broke out in the room.

Taken aback a little, Pencil said, Does anyone else have a comment? A long silence ensued.

What about the Taylor family, is there anything else to add?

His Dad stood. "Mr. Pencil, my son’s actions are not the unprecedented actions to occur in this school; that honor goes to your son and his friends. I ask you to look at my son and his especially face. This happened in his first hour of the first day of school. Your son planned from the outset. Whitey missed two days of school because of his injuries. I personally instructed him to stand up against those boys, and he did. Any action he took was in self-defense because those five boys would not have stopped after one time.

Additionally, as Whitey noted that not one person came to check on his whereabouts. He lay on the restroom floor for a lengthy time, that is until he was able to gain his footing and walk home. Your son led a group of thugs whose only intent was to entertain themselves by making others fearful of them." He sat, and the room broke out in applause.

Suddenly, a man stood and said, I have pertinent information to this case.

Hensley recognized the local Constable Orville Heades and said, Yes, Constable, you have something to add?

I have just returned from the hospital. The boys will all survive, but each has at least one bone broken in his body, about the face mainly. I can assert what the Father has said is true. Those boys did what you can see what is obvious to everyone but you. Therefore, I will not press charges against the lad. I think he was acting in self-defense. The five boys would have continued to assault him and others if the boy had not acted independently. Perhaps, I will look into charges and arrest them while they are hospitalized, followed by jail upon their release, thank you.

We will adjourn for thirty minutes.

When they returned, his high school days abruptly ended. The board voted to expel him, but he would receive his graduation diploma.

TOC

Chapter Two

The events of those four days slowly hung on the boy, and emotionally, he felt drained. The challenging year he had built up for was suddenly over. He received his diploma in a frame; Miss Bruce delivered it personally. She explained, Your grades are exemplary and have been made official by being entered into the record.

He smiled.

She continued, We gave you a ‘B’ in Social Studies. You would have gotten an ‘A,’ but you were considered too unruly in class. She laughed and laughed at her joke. She thought it was funny.

~~~~~

Whitey and his Dad cut down two oak trees during the summer. They bucked them into six-foot sections with a two-man saw. It was near a mile distant from their house. They had no other transportation than their feet, so Whitey’s responsibility was to get sections of the tree to the home-place. The only way he could accomplish this was to roll the segments to the woodpile. He dressed in his oversized shirts and wore a wide-brimmed hat to protect his white skin from the sun. It was downhill the entire distance, which was a tremendous help. Getting it past the stumps of cut trees and standing trees required him to guide the logs by using a pry bar to lift one end and to steer the wooden-log along the path. After getting it out of the forest, he rolled it downhill towards their house through a large field of sagebrush. Since the logs were always rounder in diameter on one end, the timbers turned in a slight arc. It required constant lifting and pivoting to keep the lumber-logs moving in the right direction. That was his task starting three days after the school board meeting. While he labored rolling the sections, he repeatedly played over in his mind the events of the first three days of school. His lack of remorse turned to second-guessing. He wished he had tried something different, but there was nothing further to do except not going to school. Three or four pieces became his measure in a day; usually, he could move two in the morning and two in the evening. His mom would not allow him out during the midday sun because of his skin, covered or not. He spent the middle of the day reading textbooks or the books he obtained from the Oak Hill Library. It took a week to bring down the larger pieces of wood.

His work centered on cutting limbs off the treetops into manageable lengths when the mine danger siren sounded. The siren blared when there was an incident of some sort occurring inside the mineshaft. With that blare, every person who had a relative or friend working in the mine said a prayer. It was, Please, God, not mine. Being not yet halfway home with a piece of oak, he left it and ran for the house. Mom had a look of concern when he entered. He said, It is Daddy; I felt him.

Yes; I felt him also, she trembled as the words tried to become audible.

I saw his face, Mom. He said, ‘I am okay, don’t worry.’

Whitey, never tell anyone what you just said. That was Jesus taking your Father home.

Mom, I saw his face before the siren sounded.

Oh, child; please don’t say that again to anyone! You know how they feel about you and those eyes.

What do we do, Mom?

She knew from experience seeing other family’s reactions. Wait until they notify us, and then we will go see the body. Your Father will be lying on the table in the mine conference room covered with a sheet. We will see his face and then go see the preacher have him buried tomorrow. That is all we can do.

Less than an hour later, there came a knock at the door, and they knew. Mom answered the door, and the boy stood behind her. It was Mr. Harper, the Mine Superintendent, and an unrecognizable man. Mr. Harper said, I regret to inform you that the mining accident has killed your husband. Unfortunately, there were two other men involved. There was a significant coal fall, and it struck him on their heads. The other miners got to him as fast as possible, but there was nothing to do. They were too late. The only comfort I can offer is he died instantly and did not suffer. I am truly very sorry.

Mom said without showing emotion, We knew it was him when the siren sounded. We both thank you for coming and informing us. She closed the door and waited, looking out the window until they drove off, and then Mom wailed in sorrow. They held each other, and she cried for a long time. When Mom had cried out, she had no tears left. She said, We have things we must do. His body is at the mine office building. That is where they went; it was a two-mile walk, an hour. His body lay covered on a long table as Mom said it would be. Mom lifted the corner of the sheet and looked at him. There were dark black marks, with large streaks on his forehead; blood caked his hair. Mom turned and started to say something when she saw the preacher standing nearby.

He offered condolences and asked, What can I do to help?

Mom rattled off a list of things she wanted. She said in her butchered English, mixed with French words. I want the funeral tomorrow, and I want him buried in the church cemetery. I want all of the pallbearers to be only miners. Thank you.

The preacher helplessly looked at the boy, not understanding what she said. He interpreted, Mom wants the funeral the next day, and she wanted him buried in the church cemetery with miners as pallbearers.

It was difficult for the boy to grasp, recognize, and characterize how he felt about his Dad’s death. He did not know how or what to think; he did not discern what he sensed except the boy knew he missed him; his heart hurt deep inside his chest. Mom was emotionally strong until the funeral was over, and they walked home alone. He had his arm around her shoulders, holding her close so as not to lose her also. They went to the house, and the life they knew would be different. They did not realize just how different it would become. If they had known, maybe they would have stayed away.

Whitey she began as they walked, I want you to promise me some things. You know your Dad had a drink when we went to Oak Hill on Saturdays. Well, I want you to promise me you will never take a strong drink. Do you promise?

That was easy; he did not intend to follow his Dad in that manner. Yes, Mom, I promise.

Good for you; now I want you to promise not to smoke tobacco or curse; promise me?

Yes, he said. He wished Mom had made him promise not to lie; it was easy for him to do that.

"Now, there is