It was cool and sunny with a brisk wind blowing in from the north west the day I arrived at the farm. I was feeling rather nostalgic winding down country roads I hadn’t seen since my teens. The fields were still brown with the decaying remains of last year’s crops, and the grass was just starting to green. Most of the trees were still bare and dull except for the redbuds and dogwoods.

When I was a young boy I’d go huntin’ squirrels with my dad, down narrow ass roads like these, way out in the middle of nowhere. We’d be riding home late at night and the headlights of his old truck would illuminate objects that seemed devoid of color. There was this song that used to play on the radio at the time, “Down in the boondocks.”

I asked him where  the Boondocks was located. He turned his head to me briefly, then point in all directions. “This is the Boondocks.” From then on, the word boondocks always made me think of the cold early dawn when we’d go fishing, or the chilly sunsets after a hunting trip. Quiet places far from the city lights where few people tread. Places where animals still roam freely and where the cracking of a limb or a footstep could be heard echoing through the woods. I’d lean against my father inside the cab of his old truck as he’d spin tales about some terrible, ghost-like creature called a banshee, that lived down in the boondocks.

“And if you listen close, you might be able to hear its terrifying screams foretelling someone’s death,” he would say. I’d be all scared and scoot closer to him as he put a protective arm around my shoulder. Secure under the warmth of his arm, the thought of some shrieking demon inhabiting the woods gave me goosebumps.

I pulled my truck over in front of what I assumed was the entrance to the property.  There was a long rusty iron gate, the kind used to keep cattle inside, surrounded on either side by dense brush and trees. The actual driveway was overgrown with tall grass. I got out to open the gate and found a broken lock tossed in the grass beside a rusty dented mailbox with the words “A. McAllister,” painted in white.

When I first saw the house from the bottom of that gravelly driveway, it gave me the willies. It was an old style, two story farmhouse with horizontal plank siding, tall narrow windows with individual panes, and two brick chimneys on either side. The place seemed to be in disrepair. Paint was peeling in long grey slivers like tree bark, and the lawn was overgrown with tall grass and weeds. Limbs lie scattered about the yard from three large maple trees. It looked abandoned. I hoped it wasn’t as bad on the inside as it looked from the outside.

I parked in front of the house just off to the side of the gravel road, and waded through the overgrown lawn to the front porch. A porch swing grabbed my attention as I climbed the concrete steps.  As a kid, such swings were common, but I hadn’t seen one in years. I grabbed the hand-rest and sat down. The wooden planks creaked under my weight and the rusty chains squealed as I began to swing back and forth. One of my fonder memories as a kid was sitting with my mamaw in a swing like this drinking iced tea. She’d tell me stories of her own childhood. From the porch swing there was a view of the black barn and woods off in the distance.  It was so quiet here and so unlike the noisy apartment I had in Chicago. I smiled and thought that Uncle Andy must have loved this place.

I stood facing a big wooden door with an old white ceramic door knob. Above it an old fashioned lock that was opened by a skeleton key. I opened the door, peered inside, and noticed the inside was empty and had a musty smell. A small entryway was connected to the back of the house by a long hallway that divided the house in the middle. A living room to the right and dining room to the left. At the other end of the hallway was a bedroom to the right, and to the left was a fairly large kitchen and between them was a door to the bathroom. A wooden stairway with a dusty bannister ran up the right side of the wall.

The hardwood floor creaked loudly as I walked across it. To my right was a tall narrow window looking out towards the barn and the fields. Another similar window was just to the left of the front door looking out into the front yard. There were two other doors, one directly across from me on opposite wall and one to my left.  Cobwebs lined the corner of the high ceiling over the window. This would be hard to keep heated in the winter I thought. Across the hallway, I opened a door to a front dinning room that was empty except for a broken stool and a beer can. Following the little hallway straight back, it opened into a kitchen area. Peeling wallpaper of faded pink roses covered the walls. A worn linoleum rug covered the kitchen floor. A mouse startled me as it scurried behind a hole in the pantry door. Water dripped from the faucet into a blue porcelain sink. Above the sink was a window looking out upon the back yard. A dirt trail led to an old outhouse and on either side of the trail was the remnants of a huge garden. A little shed huddled among overgrown shrubs and a few feet away was a dilapidated chicken coop. In the garden, dead flower stalks hovered over some green new growth just barely popping up through the soil.

Further exploring the kitchen, I found a cabinet built into one of the walls with lots of shelves. I opened the back door that led to a little enclosed back porch with shelves and cupboards. Inside the cupboard I found lots of red clay flower pots. I pushed open the squeaky screen door and walked down two concrete steps into the back yard.  About 20 feet away from the porch a large grassy mound sat in the middle of the lawn with a little chimney on the very top. My mamaw had a cellar like this one where she kept her canning vegetables and fruits. I went back inside to the front of the house and climbed the old creaky stairs. At the top of the stairs it curved to the right and opened to a long hallway that stretched from back to front.  Individual particles of dust sparkled in the flood of sunlight that poured from a tall narrow window at the end of the hallway. I checked one room after the other, but they were all stripped bare, even the walls. I couldn’t find a trace of my uncle’s life here. It seemed that the relatives wanted to erase his life from history. My uncle was a sailor and traveled the world, yet I knew nothing else about his life.

Late that afternoon, I finished unpacking what few items I brought with me. I was sweeping up dirt when I heard the crunching gravel of someone coming up the driveway. I peeked out and saw a big, black, oversized truck with huge wheels kicking up dust and rocks as it sped towards the house. I didn’t expect to see anyone out this way. It pulled up beside my little red truck and a dark haired fat boy wearing overalls and a ball cap hopped out of the driver’s seat.  He got up in my face with his chest all puffed out. “Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doin’ here? Don’t you know this is private property?”

I stood facing the boy and said, “I’m so sorry, but I thought this was the McAllister property that the lawyer gave me the directions to.”

“That’s right. My uncle Andy lived here,” said the boy.

“Andy was my uncle too. I guess this is the right place.” The boy looked confused and angry. An older heavy set woman in her sixties slowly got out of the passenger side. She looked vaguely familiar. As she got closer I immediately knew who it was. “Aunt Debbie?” I said walking towards her open arms.  

“Travis? Is that you? Oh my! I haven’t seen you since you were just a kid,” she said surprised giving me a quick pat on the back.

The fat boy turned and looked at his mother with a confused look. “Mom! Do you know this man?”

“Sigh… Yeah, This is your cousin Travis. He’s your uncle Jim’s kid. You’ve heard me talk about him before. This here is my youngest boy Eddie. I guess you’ve never met each other. Sorry, we weren’t expecting you here so soon,” said Debbie staring off towards the barn with a worried look.

“I just got here a couple of hours ago and found the lock on the gate had been cut.  Looks like someone came and stripped the place bare.”

Debbie’s lips were pulled tight and she glared at me. “Well, if you must know, I was the one who cut the lock on the gate. That lawyer had no right to keep us from getting what was rightfully ours,” she snapped.  

“What did uncle Andy leave y’all? I’ve been through most of the house and it seems to be quite bare.” I was confused by her sudden angry tone.

“We’ve come to pick up the tractor actually. We didn’t think you would have any use for it.”  

“I’m sorry, but the will states that the tractor is mine along with the house and property. I’m guessing you already came and took the furniture and the car, I suppose y’all can just keep it. Maybe we can talk about the tractor later, but now if y’all don’t mind, I have some unpacking to do before it gets dark. Y’all can come in and sit down if you like.”

“Momma, You said I could have the tractor,” Eddie said, pouting.

Debbie put her hands on her waist and cocked her head to the side, “We need to be getting back. I hope ya’ ain’t seriously thinking about moving here are ya? Ya’ certainly ain’t no farmer, and we’d be willin’ to take it off your hands fer a fair price.”

“Actually I was thinking about moving here.”

“Listen Travis, If’n anything, Andy should’ve left the farm to his closest relatives. You hardly even knew ‘em,” she said getting all defensive.

“Sorry Aunt Debbie, but for whatever the reason, Andy left the farm to me. I quit my job and sold everything to move back here. I ain’t planning to leave.”

“Ughhhhh,” she growled, “I s’pose there’s no reasoning with ya.” She said rolling her eyes and throwing her tiny hands into the air as she stormed off towards the truck   

“Mom, what about the tractor? Can he just keep it?” he whined.

“Come on Eddie. Get ’n the truck!” She opened the door and turned back towards me. “Travis, You ain’t heard the last of us. Maybe your uncle Bubba can talk some sense into ya,” she said.

“A good day to you too Aunt Debbie.” She climbed inside and slammed the door. The big black truck sped off down the gravel road kicking up rocks behind it. I was shocked and wasn’t expecting an encounter with angry relatives. Uncle Andy was such a fun and cheerful guy. I can’t imagine why he would leave Aunt Debbie and my dad out of his will and cause them such bad feelings.

Once the sun went down, it got very dark and quiet. I wasn’t used to the absence of traffic sounds and human activity. All my things were stacked in a big heap in the corner of the main front room. The bare bulb on the ceiling put out an eerie yellow light that made me feel uneasy and alone. Exhausted from the long drive,  I took out my sleeping bag and unrolled it on the floor next to all my stuff. It was a rough night spent tossing and turning. I couldn’t get comfortable.

The next morning I awoke to the sun in my face and birds chirping. I crawled out from a toasty warm sleeping bag to an ice cold room, and ran barefoot outside to the wood pile. I felt tired and sore from lying on the cold hardwood floor. I Grabbed some chunks of wood and scrambled inside back to the fireplace. I couldn’t remember the last time I made a fire inside a grate.  It took me a while, but once I got it started, the TV room soon got warm. I spent the morning cleaning and sweeping the floors. The old house needed lots of work. The roof leaked, the upstairs bathroom was unfinished, and the house needed painting inside and out. Perhaps Aunt Debbie was right. What did I know about running a farm? She could take it off my hands and I’d have money. After seeing the property, I realized I really wanted to live here. Perhaps I could do it a little at a time. I wasn’t completely broke.

That afternoon I drove to a small grocery store in Carlisle and bought a few groceries as well as an old table and chairs I found at a yard sale in town. I still had no refrigerator and only bought dry goods and canned foods.  I was in the kitchen making a ham sandwich when I heard a vehicle driving towards the house. I peeked out the front window and saw an old green Impala pulling up beside my truck. An elderly couple got out. I walked out onto the front porch. A tall thin  elderly man wearing a fedora, a dark blue sweater and some khaki slacks stood waving beside his car. An old woman opened the passenger door.

“Howdy neighbor!” said the old man in a deep jovial voice. “We’re your neighbors. We live just up the road next house on your right. We’ve been told that someone moved into Andy’s old place.”

“Would y’all like to come in and see the place?  My name’s Travis. I’m Andy’s nephew. He left me this place.” The old man walked towards the porch in long strides with a friendly smile on his face.

“We’d love to see the inside again if you don’t mind. My name is William Cody Watts, but everyone just calls me Cody. My mom named me after Buffalo Bill Cody, and this here’s my wife Ethel May.

Ethel shuffled slowly towards us carrying something in a dish with a towel draped over top. She wore her grey hair in tight curls with a hair net over top and was wearing an ankle long plain blue polka dotted dress with white orthopedic shoes the kind that nurses wear. “I hope you like  banana bread,” said Ethel “I just made it fresh this morning”

“We’d been friends with  Andy and Joe for about 15 or 16 years. They were good people,” Said Cody.

“Oh yes, they used to help us out a lot,” said Ethel.

“Joe?…I don’t think I know of a Joe.” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Joe and Andy were kinda best buddies. They both were in the navy together. We never asked about their relationship. We felt it was none of our business, but they were good people. We assumed you knew,” said Cody.

“No, I really didn’t know my uncle all that well. I only met him a few times. When I was a kid he was rarely home and traveled a lot with the navy,” I said feeling shocked that I didn’t know that uncle Andy was gay and I was never told about it.

“Andy and Joe used to keep the old place fixed up so nice,”said Ethel looking up at the roof of the front porch.  When Ethel reached the porch, Cody took her arm and helped her climb the steps walking behind her.

I opened the screen door and said, “Won’t y’all come in and look around. I haven’t been here but a few days and am still unpacking.”

They walked through the hallways and Ethel said,”The boys used to have very nice furniture. Looks pretty bare now.”

“Oh yes, I found the place completely empty except for some old canning jars in the cupboards and a few flower pots. The day I got here, my aunt,  Debbie and cousin, Eddie showed up with a big pick up truck hoping to find some more free stuff to cart away. I guess they didn’t realize I was moving in so soon and didn’t feel all too happy to see me here,” I said.

The old lady shuffled to the kitchen and placed the banana bread on my tiny little wooden drop leaf table that was in dire need of being sanded and revarnished.

“From what we knew, Andy didn’t seem to get along with his family much after his parents died, especially his sister. I don’t think she approved of her brother living with another man, particularly a black man. We didn’t approve either at first I’m ashamed to say. Being Christians we were taught that it was wrong,…but when Ethel fell and broke her leg in that big snow storm 14 years ago, Andy happened to be at his old barn at the top of the hill near the fence and heard someone calling for help. He climbed the fence onto our property and saw Ethel crawling up the driveway towards the house. He carried her all the way up the hill to the house, ran back through the snow to his house, got his car and drove her to the hospital,” said Cody.

“Yes indeed, if he had not come by when he did I would have frozen to death. Cody was out stripping tobacco and I didn’t expect him back until after dark. Andy was such a sweet man and so was Joe.  You would have liked him,” said Ethel.  We’d love to look around if you don’t mind. I’ve always loved this old house as a child. I grew up in the house next door. When I was a little girl there lived a family named Cameron.  They had a girl around my age and I would go to visit all the time. She had lots of brothers and sisters but they were a bit older.” She stopped and looked out the window to the garden. “They used to have an old chicken coop out there past the flowers and a well to get water.” Ethel had a sad longing stare as she looked out the kitchen window.  

Cody came up beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. “Ethel could tell you all sorts of stories about this house,” said Cody, breaking Ethel out of her spell.

“I’d love to hear some stories. Come let me show you around.” I opened the door that led into a dining room. It had a huge fireplace at one end and completely bare of furniture.

“Andy used to have a long wooden table right here.” She then pointed towards the walls and said, “Andy and Joe used to have some beautiful artwork hanging here. I suppose the relatives must have snatched them up. Joe used to be so proud of those paintings he bought.”

As Ethel wandered into the living  room, I asked Cody, “So what ever happened to Joe?”

“Oh it was pretty sad. They’d lived here together nearly ten years on a hot summer afternoon in July. They were baling hay for hours. From what I hear, he was on the wagon grabbing a bale of hay and just collapsed. Andy was driving the tractor and had the radio playing and didn’t hear him fall. Apparently he rolled off the wagon. When Andy looked back and didn’t see Joe, he turned off the tractor and found Joe’s body at the other end of the field. The coroner seemed to think that Joe died of heat stroke,” said Cody.

“Oh yes, It was so sad,”said Ethel clutching at her breast bone. “The poor boy was a war veteran and he was given a full military funeral yet the only ones here who showed up was Andy, myself and Cody. He had family near Chicago somewhere and didn’t approve of his being a homosexual and they disowned him outright. The people around here didn’t seem to approve of them either. Joe was a handsome, quiet kind man and dark as the night, but he would do anything you asked of him. Andy took his death really hard and became a bit of a recluse after Joe’s death. He’d still come by to see us ever so often, but he kept to himself a lot. I think he took Joe’s death very hard.”

“Yeah, Andy didn’t seem to be the same after Joe’s death. He became a bit of a recluse,” said Cody.

“Do you have any pictures of them?” I said.

Ethel stood silent for a few moments staring out the window. “Yeah, we have only a handful of pictures of the two of them. I’ll show you sometime,” she said.

“That would be so nice of you. I had no idea that Andy had a lover. I suppose my parents thought it too shameful to tell me.”  

Ethel shuffled ahead towards the dining room. “Oh my!  This room used to see a few parties back in the day. Jeanie Sue and I saw many dances on this old hardwood floor,” said Ethel gleaming.

After I gave them a full tour of the house, we headed back to the kitchen. Ethel said her knees were weak and needed to sit down.

“Thanks so much for showing us around the old place,” said Ethel.

Cody scanned at the bare walls. “You married or have any family of your own yet Travis?”

“Nahh not me…Actually I’m more like my uncle Andy than I ever realized,” I said winking at Ethel. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it.  “Just got out of the army a few years ago and been working odd jobs since then. I was raised in the area as a kid. Grew up in Millersburg but my parents moved to Arizona after I graduated high school. We had a falling out and don’t see them much at all,” I said.  

“That’s a shame,” said Cody.

“I’d like you to try some of my banana bread. It is still a little warm from the oven.” said Ethel smiling. She reached in her purse and pulled out a butter knife.

“I don’t have much to offer you folks since I’m still in the process of unpacking,” I said.  

“Oh no bother,”Ethel said as she sliced the bread and laid the pieces out on napkins. “Someday I’d like to tell you a story of what happened here when I was a little girl, but that’s for another day.”

“So who owned this farm before Andy lived here?” I asked.

“That would be the Thomas’s,” said Cody scratching the side of his head. Grover Thomas was a pretty decent feller up until he lost his wife. She ran off with some friend of his. He took to drinking and let the farm go. His son Darrin was in Vietnam at the time. Darrin was friends with my youngest boy Daniel when they was kids. Both of them got wounded in the war and when they came home they started drinking and doing drugs together. The boys weren’t the same when they came back. Well anyway the farm went to shit up until Andy and Joe bought the place,” Cody sighed. “Well young man I was sure nice to meet ya.” He turned to his wife and said, “I think it is best that we get going, Ethel. Thanks so much for showing us around the place,” said Cody.

“Oh yes indeed it was so nice to meet you Travis,” said Ethel. How’d you like the banana bread?”

“It was very nice and I loved the walnuts that you baked inside. Oh please come back to visit soon and if y’all need anything just let me know.”

“Thanks Travis,” said Cody as he was helping Ethel get up off the chair.

“My arthritis is getting bad these days. My knees get stiff if I sit down for very long at a time,” said Ethel, struggling to get up.

The old couple crept slowly towards their truck as I stood on the porch waving goodbye. I watched the couple’s car drive off and disappear past the tree line. I wish I’d gotten to know my uncle better. It must have been hard openly living your life with a lover in such a heavily racist Christian environment. I sighed and wondered if I too could be so brave.