The little boy was born in a small house at the edge of town, no doubt a previously made arrangement between the mother’s family and the owners of the home, who were most likely kinfolk of some sort, or perhaps just close friends, a midwife was involved perhaps. Who knows, since there are no records, written or oral, to assure the facts. It was summertime, so the weather was pleasant, unless it was raining. The country was soon to go to war and the baby’s mama was soon to slip away on a train heading north northeast, to find work in a munitions factory.
Such it was that the little boy was raised by grandma, his papa being not present. And grandma was doing it on her own, since grandpa had died in the mine some 14 years earlier. She’d been doing it on her own all this time, raising four girls with no income to speak of. Luckily, they lived in a community of kinfolk and friends, who all pitched in and helped out as needed. All along the one lane road that led up towards the two mountains to the west, family had farms with animals and crops to share amongst each other, whomever needed it. They were family after all, and one did not survive in this situation for too long without family to help out when needed, just as they had always done for some 200 years now since their sole common ancestor had landed upon these shores, disembarking from a schooner on the Potomac River and heading down with the others to the land claim they had been given by who knows what authority.
They took care of each other and they had love to give, which is not to say that they didn’t feud often and have their little tiffs. Of course, they did. But in the end, Alice was raising four girls on her own since her husband had died in the mine, and that was reason enough to help her out. Now she had a grandson, and the father was gone, been chased off, who knows what happened. But now this little boy joined the community and they had plenty to go around.
There were cousins to play with. There were some chores to be done here and there. He was well loved and looked after. He had some smart looking clothes that they bought in town that he put on when they took the train into Hinton or Beckley. Things were not bad at all. Then Mama and her sister headed out to work in the bomb plant, and grandma was the primary caregiver, although she had always had been since the little tyke was born. Soon enough though, as the war dragged on and more people left town to join the armed forces or to seek work in the cities, Grandma took the little tyke up north to live with her kinfolk up there in Ohio. He was about eight years old and he would spend the rest of his boyhood up there with grandma’s family.
He came of age in that quaint little Quaker town, but his spirit was not so quaint and unassuming. He had a chip on his shoulder, being a little hillbilly boy with no dad and being raised by his grandma, who spoiled him silly. He had developed into a strikingly handsome young man with an inner drive to make a name for himself. He liked fine clothes and his grandma made sure he had them, pressing his shirts and washing his pants daily, so that he could look his best, just as teenagers long to do, in order to be noticed, accepted, and, perhaps, desired.
And desired he was. Many girls at Salem High thought he was a real gone guy. Perhaps he had shed his Appalachian accent by then, or maybe he never had it. But he presented himself, in this little Ohio town, as a cosmopolitan, finely dressed bohemian type, with a love for fast cars and late nights and a girl on his arm. This was all working out swimmingly well until he started dating the judge’s daughter. They had some late nights out, with perhaps some carnal intimacy involved. Johnny was having a great time, but the judge had enough. Grandma was notified that the boy’s behavior was a liability and something needed to be done.
By this time, his senior year in high school, his mom had ended her term at the munitions factory and had moved northeast to the city and was working as a waitress. She had an apartment downtown, and was able to take her son back and have him finish out his high school senior year in the city with her. He drove his Oldsmobile through Pennsylvania and to his mother’s apartment building door. They had seen each other only sporadically over the past dozen years, so there was some emotional distance for sure. He finished up high school and then got a job as a salesman at a shoe store downtown.
He was still disarmingly handsome and finely dressed, so the women took notice, and he eventually saw one that he liked. They would spend afternoons at the soda fountain or at the diner, going for a drive and getting to know each other. She was from a well-established Catholic family, so there was no messing around beyond a certain point. Once things got serious, a decision had to be made. As things are wont to go, a decision was made for them. A pregnancy occurred and since they were not yet wed, she was sent away to Harrisburg to carry her pregnancy to term, while everyone was told different stories as to why she was away. Once she came home, after the baby had been given away, no one acknowledged what had happened or gave space for emoting and reflecting. That’s just how it was. Don’t acknowledge it, don’t think about it, don’t talk about it, pretend it didn’t happen.
Her and Johnny got back together, their love and attraction still strong. They ended up getting married, but by that time, their son had been sent away to an adoptive family and there was nothing they could do about it. They couldn’t get him back, let alone even know anything about him or where he was. Little did they know, he was safe and sound, growing up on a farm a mere fifteen miles away.
The little hillbilly boy, raised by his grandma in an Ohio Quaker town, now married and living in a strange city, made his way. He and his wife had more children. They bought a house. He advanced in his career. They bought a bigger house. He advanced even more and they bought an even bigger house. They never talked about their first child, lost to the adoption system, but they made the best of what they had, doing well with three more children, until it all came crashing down, as fragile relationships tend to do,
His career got torpedoed, his marriage collapsed, and he felt like he needed some fresh air, so he booked it to California and started anew, trying to hold it together. He never got a real job again, his aspirations having waned. He dealt dope to the corporate hippies and did the crossword puzzle. He thought about his children often, but didn’t do much more than that. He saw them on occasion. Then his second marriage came crashing down and that was just about all he could take. He was done.
THE MOSSY BOG 