Holbert

Holbert Brogans and overalls by Lee; Making cotton baskets ‘neath a white oak tree. A grandfather I never really knew that smoked Prince Albert; it was tried and true. Went by the name Holbert. His wallet in his bib; no undershirt. Sitting in a porch swing he made. Across his yard the world he surveyed. Once shotgunned an innocent crane. Never had he seen such a thing; Must be some kinda dinosaur. One shot and it was no more. Used a jar full of Morgan silver dollars to buy tires for his ’49 Chevy. Actions always prove who are the dullards. No one ever accused him of being heady. In the middle of the night once shot a stray. Such dogs often killed our chickens. Mortally wounded it died under our house and started to decay. My job to drag it out as my stomach started to sicken. Often to First Monday we would trek. In his Sunday overalls he was bedecked. Ripley a good place for selling baskets. I would always watch to learn his tactics. Soon old age came to stay. Early in March he went away. A lifetime ago it seems, but often he returns to me in my dreams.