Crapalachia: A Biography of Place (5 page)

In 1937: 1,399

In 1938: 1,077

 

We read about the Farmington disaster and how the smoke rose from the mine and the miners’ wives ran to the mine to see if their husbands were dead. The wives waited outside the mine for their husbands, but their husbands never came. The company didn’t pay the miners for the half day they missed due to their death in the explosion.

 

In 1939: 1,062

In 1940: 1,361

In 1941: 1,226

 

In 1922 my grandmother’s uncle was stuck inside the Layland mine for three weeks after an explosion. When they pulled out the bodies, some of the shoelaces were missing. Some of the miners weren’t killed. Some of the miners were so hungry they ate their shoelaces. They died of starvation.

 

I read about how this proves something. It proves one thing. It proves that poor people are not smart, and only poor people are desperate enough to work in a hole and then thank god that they have a job working in a hole.

 

Then I read about what happens to bravery. William Marland was governor of the state of WV. He tried to put an excise tax on coal and the industry broke his ass down. He started drinking. He disappeared in the ’60s. A reporter from the Chicago Tribune was riding in the back of a Chicago taxi cab. He looked up at the name of the taxi cab driver. He said, “Hey you have the name of the former governor of West Virginia.”

The taxi cab driver said, “I know. That’s me. I was the governor of the state of West Virginia.”

 

He was an old man. He was a drunk. He tried to protect and help the people once. This is what happens to you. You wind up a drunk, driving a taxi cab in the city of Chicago.

 

 

We read and we learned and then we smiled the smile of killers. We had the smile of Charles Manson inside of us.

 

 

 

Later that day someone must have said something about Little Bill’s bald head and lice. But Little Bill didn’t say anything. Little Bill just walked over and smacked the guy upside the head. Then he started kicking him. He reared back with his leg and kicked. The dude on the ground didn’t saying anything else. The other guys the dude was with circled around. Little Bill laughed at them. Mrs. Powell was going to walk over and say something, but Little Bill shook his fist at her. He said, “What? You want some of this.” Then we knew. We knew Little Bill really was on his way to being King Kong Bundy.

 

We knew we wanted to get lice too—so we could shave our heads and kick the shit out of people who gave us hell.

I was getting tired of playing checkers with Nathan. I even told him a couple of months earlier that I wasn’t going to play anymore because he was always beating me. But here I was playing checkers again for some reason.

I jumped one checker and then waited. He made a move and then I made another move. He made a move and pointed to the toys in front of his chair. It was a ceramic hog with these giant testicles hanging down in the back. There was a rubber frog and a plastic puppy and a small stuffed alligator, but he kept pointing at the hog balls. Then he pointed at his chest. I finally said, “Gosh, Nathan, I’m trying to figure out where I’m going to move my checker. I wish you’d quit pointing at the hawg nuts. This is part of the reason I don’t like playing.”

Then Nathan turned the hawg towards Ruby so she could see.

 

He pointed to the giant testicles and then to himself.

Ruby whispered “shit” beneath her breath and then, “Nathan, you quit talking filthy like that. Can’t believe you put that filthy stuff out there.”

Nathan laughed and pointed at the ceramic hawg and then back to himself, which meant:
I got big hawg balls all right, Mother
.

I made my move and he laughed again and pointed to the newspaper. Then he pointed to his finger. He was saying,
I’m going to get me a woman out of the paper without a ring on her finger
.

Then he spread his arms wide. I said, “Nathan you can’t place personal ads for a big fat woman. No woman would answer that.”

Nathan laughed and spread his arms real wide. W
ell if I’m going to get me a woman I want the biggest goddamn woman I can find. I want one so goddamn big I can’t even get my arms around her big ass
. Ruby whispered “shit” beneath her breath and then he jumped my checker. He pointed to the newspaper again and then acted like he was writing. He was telling me that he was going to have me write to one after he beat me. Then I jumped one of his checkers and then another and then another.

 

 

I was winning. For the first time I was winning. “Maybe it was a good thing I took a couple of months off.”

I thought that it was because maybe he was bragging so much that he wasn’t paying attention. I jumped another checker and I said, “King me.” He kinged me. I started moving all over the checkerboard. He wasn’t even watching really.

My grandma told Nathan, “Well you’re going to talk so much no one is going to believe what you say. It’s going to be just like Mary.”

I never should have been on the ride. I begged but my aunt talked me into it. She was always saying, “When I was a size 2.” And then a few minutes later she said again, “When I was a size 2.” Then she would remind you later in the day. “Of course, I haven’t always been so big. I used to be size…” I knew all of this was a lie but I still got on the ride with her. I got on the ride and I sat on the right side of her. This was a mistake. The ride started up and my Aunt Mary was pulled by the G-forces to the right. I felt my hip bones rubbing together. My Aunt Mary was not a size 2 anymore. So therefore, I should warn everyone: If you’re ever at the West Virginia State Fair do not ride the Tunnel of Love with my Aunt Mary. I repeat. Do not ride the Tunnel of Love with my Aunt Mary.

Or

YOU WILL REGRET IT!

Nathan threw his hands up in the air and then he pointed to his head.

Ruby said: “I know. I know. You’ll end up saying things no one believes. She almost crushed poor little Scott to death.”

Then Nathan made his move. I jumped him. He made another move. I jumped him. He made another move. I jumped him. Ruby sat in the corner talking to herself, “That’s how the world works. Just one thing after another and no plan about it at all. Then something happens and it don’t mean nothing.” Nathan made another move. I jumped him. He only had one checker left. He moved it around with his finger, but there was no place to go. He stopped moving it. Then I jumped him.

 

I won. I was just about to say, “I fucking won,” but then I saw that he was pointing at the personal ads in the newspaper and he wanted me to write a letter for him. He wanted me to say he had his own set of wheels. “Whatever,” I said. “I’m going to kick your ass again.”

So then he was putting the checkers back on the board and we were playing again. He jumped one of my checkers. I made a move. He jumped another one of my checkers. I made a move and then he jumped me. I wanted to tell him that this was the reason I hated playing checkers with him. I made a move and he jumped me. Then I saw him smile.

I saw his smile and I knew that he had let me win earlier. I sat and watched him jump my checkers, just like always, one by one. He pointed to his head with his finger. That meant he was smart.

“That’s right, little Nathan,” Ruby said. “You’re a smart feller. The world’s not smart but you are.”

 

Then I saw myself getting my ass kicked. He pointed to the newspaper and I saw myself writing a letter that started:

You mentioned in your ad that you are a full-figured woman and were looking for a man who appreciated a full-figured woman. Well I’m here to tell you that I like my women like I like my fried chicken—a little bit greasy and with plenty of fat around the edges.

I saw myself writing about how his balls were the size of hawg balls, and he was a tough motherfucker.

 

I saw him jump my checkers and I wouldn’t tell them about the feeding tube and how it smelled when there was nothing on his stomach. I knew that I wouldn’t write about how I was afraid of him when I was little. I thought he was a monster. I thought cerebral palsy was the name you gave to the monster in every family. I wouldn’t write about how he used to knock himself out to make me laugh. I wouldn’t write about how my uncles were babysitting me when I was small and they were wanting to get rid of me for a while so they could have sex with their girlfriends. They put me on the roof and I was too scared to jump off, but Nathan groaned and moaned until Grandma came to get me. I wouldn’t write about how people stared at him when I pushed him down the road. They stared and shook their heads. I knew there would be no letters sent in return.

I knew I would never write about Nathan’s light blue eyes—eyes as blue as Christmas tree lights.

I knew I would never write about his soft heart. The softest heart I have ever known.

 

I knew he believed in something that none of us ever do anymore. He believed in the nastiest word in the world. He believed in KINDNESS. Please tell me you remember kindness. Please tell me you remember kindness and joy, you cool motherfuckers.

So he started watching soap operas all the time. He thought soap operas could teach him something about women and love. Every day he went into the living room and leaned up against his little cushion and watched the women on the soap operas live their lives through story.

He watched the women on the soap operas start falling in love.

He watched the women on the soap operas hit their heads and get amnesia and run off and leave their families.

He watched the people getting in car chases and running out of burning buildings just before they exploded.

I used to sit and watch them too and wonder if he thought this is what the outside world was like—that each of us had an evil twin we didn’t know about, an evil twin that was out there somewhere trying to take over our lives and kill us.

 

Then one day we went to Beckley for Grandma’s foot doctor appointment. After the appointment, I pushed him through K-Mart and Nathan wanted to buy a copy of the movie
South Pacific
. I asked why in the hell he was wanting to buy a stupid musical. He kept pointing to the cover. Then he took his hands and put them to his chest like he was squeezing his breasts. There was a picture of a woman on the cover who was wearing this itty bitty bikini.

I told him: “Ah shit, Nathan. This is not going to be a tittie movie. This is going to be a stupid ass musical.”

But the poor bastard didn’t listen. When he got home and put it into the VCR, instead of a woman in her itty bitty bikini, taking it off, and showing him her stuff, it was just a bunch of women in a G-rated movie, singing songs, completely clothed, about washing men right out of their hair.

So
SHIT
! We went back to watching soap operas. We went back to watching the shows about women who were married and trapped by their psycho, maniac husbands.

He watched women having their children taken away by philandering husbands. The husbands made it look like the women went crazy and committed them to insane asylums.

But there was one woman in particular he was obsessed with. She was a woman who was the most beautiful woman on the show.

He even had a picture of her from
TV Guide
taped up on the paneling beside his bed in the hall.

I watched him during his nap and he used to stare at her for hours like she was the one he loved.

 

 

I sat at the table with him one day and he started pointing at the newspaper beneath his chair (Ruby always put newspapers down in case Nathan spilled something). He used to sit at the table and struggle to eat a spoonful of mashed up food, or drink from a bottle of 7UP. So now he struggled with the bottle and Ruby whispered: “Now Nathan don’t you get choked.”