Among the Mud Puddles

By Jason Burchard

Based on the true story of a grandfather's long kept family secret, the story unravels as Ollie Parker's grandson Chase sets out to write a book about his grandfather's amazing life.

When the Parker family seems to be at its lowest, young Ollie and his brothers find themselves getting into trouble and increasing amounts of danger as they approach becoming young men.

The novel "Among the Mud Puddles" journeys back and forth through time, following both grandpa Ollie Parker's troubles as well as grandson Chase's own struggles. The parallels in their lives are many, even though they lived in quite different times. Two men. One bloodline. One last name-- PARKER.

"Among the Mud Puddles" is the first novel from author Jason Burchard, and is loosely based on his own grandfather's challenging life. It's a story about struggle, heartache, his grandfather's love and excitement for the Indy 500, the sacrifices we make, and most importantly-- FAMILY.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9781304635570

Book preview

Among the Mud Puddles e-book cover

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Among

the

Mud

Puddles

By Jason Burchard

© Copyright 202 4

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Among

the

Mud

Puddles

By Jason Burchard

© Copyright 2024

First Edition E-book

1.1

No part of this book may be reproduced without the expressed written consent of the author Jason Burchard and Burchard Creative. All rights reserved. Some characters may be based loosely on real people, but no events, descriptions or conversations are considered true to life or taken directly from real life events etc. This book is a fictional account loosely based on family. No parties other than author and publisher are due any payments, royalties or judgements. Pictures at the end of book were by express permission of all living people in the photos or were edited out.

For more info and books/products from Jason Burchard and Burchard Creative visit:

www.BurchardCreative.com

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ISBN 978-1-304-63557-0

Imprint: Lulu.com

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This book is dedicated to my grandfather.

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CHAPTER 1

T o many, he was just Ollie Parker. To me, he was Grandpa.

The wildest thing was, grandpa had quite a crazy life. He got into a lot of trouble when he was younger and, to the best of my knowledge, none of the rest of the family knew about it until years after his death.

        The best place to begin would be about a year before I, Chase Parker, started writing this book. Ever since grandma and grandpa passed away, our family hadn’t gotten together as often as we used to. My grandma, Abby Parker, was the facilitator of most of the holidays and get-togethers. It seemed like forever since the last time the family had gotten together at all. The last time I could recall, other than grandpa’s funeral, was a few months before grandpa died. We gathered at everyone’s favorite steakhouse in Buxton, Indiana: Buddy’s-- Great steaks, right off the highway! It was great food in a great location-- not roadkill.

        The family had been apart for too long and I decided to plan a nice dinner and get-together at Buddy’s again. Of course, there would be at least one less Parker there since the last time.

        I organized it all and planned it two weeks in advance so that everyone could make arrangements to try and attend. It really was a big deal because it had been about five years since we’d all been together. Most of the Parker family still lived in the same Mulberry County we came from, as I still did, but a few lived a bit farther away. It wasn’t easy for everyone to show. My cousin Gabe and Aunt Lorraine couldn’t make it because of work. My brother Nick lived about three states away in North Carolina on an Army base with his wife and three children, so I knew they couldn’t come either. But, most of the rest of the family made it.

        I showed up at the restaurant fifteen minutes early since I was the one who planned the event and reserved the space at Buddy’s. The waitress led me up to a small room they had upstairs for their bigger groups. There were several large round tables with enough room for six people at each. There was even a bathroom off to the side nearby. It was almost like we rented a building and had it catered; it felt quite charming and special.

        I sat my fancy Nikon digital camera, and its long lens and carrying case, down onto one of the tables in the center of the room. I opened the bag to double and triple check my battery was charged and that I had a memory card inserted with plenty of storage space. I wanted to be sure and get some good quality pictures of the rare family assemblage.

        My Aunt Mollie walked into the room as the waitress showed her in.

        Nobody else here yet? Mollie asked, sounding surprised.

        I laughed, and replied, Parkers? On time? You know better.

        I know, right? she said as she laughed with me. Where’s Lilly?

        I don’t know, I said. I couldn’t get a hold of her.

        How old is she now?

        Thirteen.

        Ohh… Mollie said. That explains it.

        Tell me about it.

        I brushed my fingers over the table next to me and spun a set of silverware wrapped up in a napkin. Spun it again and again.

        Mollie sat her chocolaty leather purse on the next table over.

        Who all came with you? I asked her.

        Oh, Bryson and Andy are coming up.

        Bryson was my cousin June’s son and Andy was Aunt Mollie’s husband. He was probably smoking outside before he would help Bryson hike upstairs. I didn’t realize before then that being upstairs would be quite inconvenient for Bryson who was handicapped. He was only nineteen and recently lost a leg in a car accident. He was a great athlete, headed to a small college on a baseball scholarship, until the accident derailed his plans. My aunt saw the surprise on my face when I realized Bryson would have to go up the steps.

        It’s fine, she said. He’s tough. He’s still trying to feel normal and not helpless.

        I nodded. He was tough. For almost a year, he had still been walking around on crutches instead of resorting to a wheelchair. He was stronger than most. He was holding out hope that he could get a prosthetic through insurance.

        What’s new? I asked her as we sat down and waited for the others to show.

        Well... she said, as she let out a long breath.

        Yeah? I prodded.

        Oh… she began. I found some stuff out about Dad.

        What do you mean? I asked.

        Well, you may not want to know, Mollie said. But, after dinner when everyone’s here, I think I’m going to tell everyone some things I found out. I guess I might have to warn some of the family that they may not want to know.

        Why wouldn’t we want to know? I asked.

        You’ll see later.

        I sat there wide-eyed, on the edge of my seat. My plan for a simple family get-together just took a big, climactic turn-- and it hadn’t even started yet! I couldn’t do anything but stare off into space. I wondered, what in the world could she have been talking about? My grandpa Ollie had passed away nearly five years before. How it could be worse than any news I’d gotten about grandpa already?

        Once I had returned from space, or staring into it, I noticed that a few other relatives had arrived. Bryson and Andy sat down with Aunt Mollie. My Uncle Marty came in sporting a new leather biker jacket that he was showing off to my cousin Troy; both avid motorcycle guys. Then, my Dad, Terry, a Harley-Davidson fan himself, came in the doorway by Troy and Marty. He immediately started to poke fun at Marty’s jacket because it had too many zippers.

        You’ll look like a wanna-be on your motorcycle, he told Marty.

        You haven’t seen the best part! Marty said as he turned around to show the back. A big Indianapolis Motor Speedway logo patch spread from shoulder to shoulder. The logo was eagle wings coming out the side of a large racing tire and racing flags above. Indianapolis written on the left wing, Motor on the tire, and Speedway on the right wing. I had it custom made and attached.

        Ahh! Dad would’ve loved that! Dad said. Grandpa loved the Indy 500 race so much. Race day, which was always Memorial Day, was about the only day you’d find him in front of the TV all day– not even leaving to tinker on one of his cars. Well, race day or whenever Indiana Hoosiers Basketball games were on.

        Yeah, that’s the reason I got it, for Dad. One of the things he loved the most was that race.

        Looks cool! I said as I patted him on the back just above the logo. I’ve still never been to an Indy 500 race.

        We should all try and go this year? Dad said.

        Marty and I wholeheartedly agreed.

        Just then, my cousin Mitchell, Aunt Mollie’s son, walked in.

        Hey! Mitchell said as he came into the room, all excited to see everyone. The gypsy of the family, he traveled and moved around the country—doing who knows what for a living. We ask, but he won’t tell. I always wondered if it was embarrassing or top secret. I’d bet it would be interesting to find out.

        Before long, most of the remaining Parker family was sitting around and staring at Buddy’s laminated menus. Cousin Jennie and her 3-year-old twin girls were the last to arrive. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but her shy little ones were all dressed up and walked closely behind, they looked too cute in their black and white floral dresses.

        I sat at a table with Dad and Uncle Marty. I remember thinking that it would have been nice to have my teenage daughter sitting in the chair next to me, but it was complicated. She was thirteen, lived with her mother I’d split from years ago, and was usually busy with her friends or her mom's side of the family.

        Where’s Lilly? Uncle Marty asked me.

        I shrugged my shoulders as I looked at him and said, I don’t know. She’s a teen now and half the time she doesn’t want to do much with me.

        Marty laughed at my familiar situation. Yep, they get to that age they want to hang out with friends and not their parents anymore. He and Dad looked at each other and agreed.

        I don’t remember going through that stage myself. I think my brother and I always hung out with Dad like he was a friend.

        I just nodded slightly and gave a weak grin. Then, I stared at the empty chair next to me again. Or somewhere beyond the chair, beyond the second floor we were on and even beyond the first floor, the bar area, of Buddy’s past the pool tables we were probably hovering above. I stared, to who knows where. I opened the menu in front of me and quickly decided on what I wanted, but then I zoned out somewhere in between the lines—thinking about Lilly and how she should’ve been there at the dinner and heard this news about grandpa with most of the family. And the news. What could it be? Did he get away with some crime we never knew about? Was he actually someone else in disguise? I didn’t know what it could be, but I wanted to know right away.

        For you sir? a young, angelic waitress said as she gently poked me on the shoulder, since I was looking in the other direction. I totally hadn’t noticed her come up and take Dad and Marty’s order and then stood there waiting for me to snap out of a trance.

        Oh! I said, being startled. The eight-ounce sirloin, medium rare, baked potato and fried apples.

        What’s the deal with you? Dad asked, as he realized I was not all there.

        My mind is just racing, I said.

        Why? Uncle Marty asked.

        I looked over at Aunt Mollie at her table.

        Mollie said she found some crazy stuff about grandpa.

        What!? both Dad and Marty replied simultaneously.

        We all looked at Mollie and she noticed as we all turned our attention to her.

        Oh, I guess I should say something, she started. Well, let’s eat first and then I’ll tell everyone. I found out some crazy, kind of bad news, about Dad. It may change your opinions of him, but if you don’t want to know, you don’t have to stay and listen after dinner.

        Beyond that, I don’t remember much of what was said during dinner. I do remember that my steak wasn’t quite done right. I didn’t want to bother the waitress and to have to wait longer and be the last one finishing up eating, as I normally always was anyway. So, I ate my not-nearly-at-all medium rare but quite rare steak.

        Finally, everyone finished eating. The twins were playing off to the side where there was a kids kitchen set and a couch they climbed on.

        Uncle Marty said goodbye as he put on his zippery Indy 500 jacket. I wondered if he already knew what she had found out, since he was the oldest child of grandma and grandpa’s.

         The room went silent. Even Jennie’s girls calmed down, went over to their mom and clung to her, looking worn out. But even Jennie stayed. I thought everyone else was curious to see who may leave next. Ultimately, the rest of us all waited in anticipation to hear the news.

        Aunt Mollie grinned a little as she knew everyone who still remained wanted to hear the story; Dad and I, cousins Jennie, Mitchell, Troy, June and her son Bryson, my Uncles Ryan and Andy. Marty was the only one who had left. I wondered then, as we sat in silence, if Marty knew.

        Mollie got up and everyone shifted in their seats. Everyone.

        She walked over to the dining room door. She shut it softly. The noise from the rest of the restaurant slowly faded out. I had thought that the room was already quiet, but it seemed to get even more silent as the door shut. And more as Mollie walked back to the middle of the room rubbing her hands together as if she had put on lotion. Was she sweating? Perhaps. Nervous? Unquestionably.

        I know we all loved Dad, she started. I don’t think any of this stuff I found will change that, or I wouldn’t tell it. It’s just very shocking.

        ‘Shocking?’ I thought. She said ‘crazy’ before, but not ‘shocking’.

        Then she began to tell the story of how it happened.

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CHAPTER 2

        In a dark train car, two young men in dirty white short-sleeved dress shirts sat a few feet from each other, with their backs against the wall. One wore a light gray fedora and the other sported a fresh buzz cut.

        The boxcar was mostly empty, save for a few wooden cases and some other boxes on the end opposite the young men. The whole car rattled as the train sped along. The sliding door was left open about a foot. Glimpses of moonlit scenery, mostly trees and empty gravel roads, whisked by within the door crack.

        The man in the fedora shuffled his legs and turned his body towards the other. He tried to speak at a normal volume. The other just shook his head and glared back and pointed to his ears.

        Can’t hear you! he shouted back. Speak up!

        I’m getting hungry! the fedora-wearing man yelled. How much longer?

        The other shrugged his shoulders and turned back to look at the crack in the boxcar door. He turned back to his friend before he spoke again.

        Can’t go anywhere ‘til it stops or slows!

        The fedora’d man just nodded, turned back to where he was before and put his head down.

        Not a moment after, a screeching sound of metal on metal came louder and louder. The scenery through the crack passed slower and slower.

        Both men stood up, wobbling slightly for a while as the train took a minute to slow down much.

        The buzz cut man went to the door and poked his head out.

        He turned back to the fedora man and spoke normally, since the train had quieted down enough. Little station up there, we better head off the backside and skedaddle for a while.

        Quickly, they both pulled with all their might at the door on the other side. It budged  little by little, until it had a crack big enough for them to squeeze through. They’d slowed down to the slightest crawl and the men jumped off out the back and into a small wooded area.

        They inched away and watched in all directions-- settled about twenty-five feet from the train and watched and waited.

        The train stop was brief, as it was moving again within five minutes.

        The men could see glimpses of a small town when a few empty flatbed train cars went by.

        Little town here, the buzz cut man said. That’s good news for us, Ollie.

        Why you think? Ollie whispered.

        We need stuff, right? he asked. Whole town’s probably all asleep by now.

        With that, the buzz cut man snuck out of the bushes and over the tracks, motioning his pal Ollie to follow along.

        Little one and two-story houses were all bunched together in the small town. The men snuck behind a shed and up through a small alleyway. About two blocks up, they came upon the main street as they crept along a short plank fence.

        The buzz cut fellow spotted a small convenience store across the street with a hand-painted sign that read: Maryville Gas & Go. He walked towards the building and motioned for Ollie to follow.

        Ollie’s pal put his hands and face up to the glass of the gas station’s front door.

        See anything, Hank? Ollie whispered. Then, he looked back behind them.

        Shh!! Hank snapped back. Then, he made a circling motion with his index finger and motioned for Ollie to go around the building one way, then he went the other.

        The two met around the back of the store and they crouched down next to the building. Hank, being the boss of the two men, whispered to his companion, There’s a side door back that way. We can get in through there, grab a few things and get out. Quickly, quietly. Out the way we came, to the woods behind the tracks and we disappear.

        Ollie became wide-eyed and nodded a few times, short and quick.

        Way we came, and we disappear, Hank quietly, but firmly, reiterated as they stood up. Hank pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and turned towards the building. The two men went around to the side door; a glass door of two panes framed with aluminum. Hank stood with his back to the building as he took the screwdriver and stabbed the glass door. The old glass cracked easily. Hank waited for a moment; then, he peeked in. He jabbed at the broken glass to push it off the door frame. He reached in the door, turned the lock and pushed the door in slowly.

        Both men crept down slightly as they snuck in.

         The gas station was small and dark. It was only lit from indirect moonlight that peeked through the doors and little windows. There were a couple of rows of snack racks, a few refrigerators of bottled drinks and a small counter and register.

        Hank went straight behind the counter, grabbed a few packs of cigarettes and stuffed them in his gray slacks.

        Ollie grabbed a candy bar and ate it quickly. He stuffed some beef jerky and peanuts in his pockets. He went to the fridge and reached for a cold bottle of RC Cola, but a loud noise spooked him before he picked up the drink.

        Hank had slammed his fist on the cash register. It chimed and the drawer opened. He began emptying its contents. He took a quick glance at the bills as he gathered them all and put them in his back pocket.

        That should last us a while, Ollie, Hank said.

        A month you think? Ollie asked.

        Yeah, at least.

        Ollie grabbed his RC.

        Both men continued to fill their pockets. Hank was going for the register’s cash and bent down when he dropped some bills. Ollie loaded a box up with food and drinks. Then, Hank popped back up and looked at Ollie quickly filling his box.

        NOBODY MOVE!!! shouted an old man who appeared at the door. The man held a .38 special revolver pointed at Hank behind the counter. Ollie very slowly sat the box of food down on the nearest shelf. I said don’t move! Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt, the old man said.

        Hank turned quick and reached behind his back as the old man waved his gun at Ollie.

        Now don’t do anything stupid, the man said as he pointed at Hank with one hand and kept his gun pointed at Ollie. You can drop all my stuff and go before the cops get here, he said as he made eye contact with each man. Or we can wait. No difference to me. Try anything and you’re gettin’ shot, I promise ya that. As the man focused more on Ollie, Hank slowly pulled something from behind him. Ollie moved too. In a flash, Hank and Ollie both drew their own guns on the old man.

And then, there was a shot…

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CHAPTER 3

        My aunt told us everything that happened, but I’m not quite ready to explain what happened that night. I want to tell more about my grandpa Ollie than what happened at that gas station. That was just the start of one crazy night for him. I will tell more  about it when the time is right. That time is not yet.

        Some time had passed as I marveled at the entirety of what Aunt Mollie had uncovered and told the family. I found it fascinating that none of the kids or grandkids knew about any of it. I told friends, coworkers and ex-girlfriends about it. Pretty much, anyone I talked to, got to hear about this story and more about grandpa. It was intriguing to all of us.

        Now, I’ve written some short stories and songs in the past, as a hobby and in pursuit of dreams. Nothing had come of them yet. But, the more I thought about grandpa’s whole story, I knew I had to write about him. I felt there was such a good story there that it could be my crowning achievement– or, perhaps a great place to start. Certainly, I began to feel like my life had a clear purpose. It was my duty to write grandpa’s story. But, I had to do it right.

        Grandma and grandpa, Abby and Ollie Parker, had four children in the 1950’s. Uncle Marty was oldest, Aunt Mollie next, then Uncle Ryan and lastly of course, my father Terry.

        Aunt Mollie most likely found out about grandpa because of grandma’s influence. My grandma Abby Parker became a genealogist, or family researcher, about the time that grandpa retired. She got a job working in the Mulberry County museum in downtown Buxton. She was a historian and museum caretaker. It was part of her job to help the public by researching family history for Mulberry County. She had even spearheaded a mildly successful book of the county’s history.

        Since grandma had passed, Aunt Mollie took up a similar interest. She was trying to research all that she could about her and her husband’s, Uncle Andy’s,  family. I wasn’t quite sure how my Aunt stumbled upon grandpa’s news; if she was deliberately searching for something she had suspicions of, or if it fell into her lap so to speak.

        I had a lot of questions. And so did Mollie. I told her of my interest in writing a book about it all and we agreed to meet and go over some of the details. She said that she had a lot of newspaper articles and documents relating to a lot of things I didn’t know about.

        I hadn’t been to Aunt Mollie’s by the White River in a while. It was no easy trek for me, being a good twenty-minute drive from downtown Buxton where I lived. Plus, it was another 45 minutes out of the way to go get Lilly who was interested in coming along for a change-- but I was always glad to get her anytime I could.

The windy and woodsy drive was beautiful any time of year. It was just a b ad, winding road, and it was somewhat confusing to get to their place. It was so far out that most cell phones would lose signal. I could tell Lilly was concerned because she kept holding her phone up, messed with it and complained the reception was getting spottier the farther we went. So, there were those things.

        We pulled up to the cabin. I had to squeeze in between a couple of beat up trucks to park my truck. As we got out, two dogs came running up wagging their tails. I knew Red was the calm, friendly pitbull I’d met, but I didn’t know the new one-- a small shaggy kind of dog. Aunt Mollie loved animals-- especially dogs. She always kept at least two or three.

        I greeted Red and petted him and his new buddy. They barely let us walk to the front door, only for their wanting attention, but I coaxed them into allowing us in.

Oh hey, c’mon in, Aunt Mollie said as she opened the door. I’ve just been going through some of all the stuff I found. She lightly hugged Lilly when she walked in. Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been? How you been?

Good, Lilly said as she smiled and giggled shyly.

You found more stuff on grandpa? I asked her as I entered the rustic cabin’s kitchen and dining room. Uncle Andy sat on the couch in the next room and watched a fishing show. How you doing, Andy?

Ahh, pretty good, how bout you guys? he asked us as he kindly put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.

Good, good, I said. I think Lilly’s mad at me because there’s no reception out here. You have wi-fi?

We did but it quit working and they’re supposed to come fix it tomorrow, Andy said.

Anyone want a drink or anything? Aunt Mollie called out from the kitchen as she got ice and poured herself some sweet tea. I’ve got sweet tea, water, and some Coke.

I’ll take a Coke, I said. Lilly? Tea? She quickly nodded back. She’ll take some tea, please.

And in no time, Lilly, Aunt Mollie and I were all gathered at the dinner table and talked about grandpa and looked at printouts and newspaper clippings. Lilly seemed interested for the first five minutes, but then quickly lost interest and became more agitated that her phone wasn’t working out there.

This is the original article of the gas station robbery in Maryville, Mollie said as she slid a printout to me. I read it and then passed it for Lilly to look at as Mollie kept feeding us documents and pictures. Pictures from the late 40’s when Dad took Mom to meet his family in West Virginia. That’s his sister DeeDee.

Never seen these, I said, as I enjoyed seeing the old black and white photographs.

You even remember grandpa? I asked Lilly. You were like 5 when he passed away. And grandma was about a year before, right? I asked Mollie.

Almost exactly a year, Mollie replied. Oh, here’s your grandma’s report card from Butler.

Oh, that’s why she never finished! I said as I looked at the low grades. She never talked about why she didn’t finish. But still, she was the one who motivated me to go to college.

By then, Lilly drifted out of the conversation. She was sipping tea and back to trying her phone.

You can go watch TV if you want, I told her. We shouldn’t be too long.

Yeah, c’mon and change it to whatever you want, hun, Uncle Andy said. She went and sat down to channel surf.

Aunt Mollie and I continued going over details, documents and photographs.

Dad told me that grandpa made a cardboard suitcase when they went on their first trip to the Indy 500? I asked Mollie.

Oh, no. Those days, a cardboard suitcase was just a cheap but store-bought suitcase that was thin and fabric covered. It wasn’t an actual suitcase made of cardboard and duct tape.

Oh, I said and wrote down some notes. Did grandma know about grandpa’s past? I asked.

We don’t even know, she said. "I would think since she was in genealogy and stuff, that she may have known. But I don’t know. I only found it because a lot more records come out after a