The Least of These

I knew I had to push through the pain.  My calves were burning, and I just wanted to turn around and go home, but I had come this far, and I was almost over the last hill.  My heart was pounding, and my legs felt like rubber but as I topped the hill and coasted down into the pit, I felt exhilarated.  I had done it!  I gave out a big WHOOPEE and heard it echo off the walls of the largest gravel pit we owned on our property.

An unpaved road next to our farm wound back into the woods and contained three man-made pits where my Daddy sold gravel to the county for road repairs. The dark red clay reminded me of pictures I had seen of the Grand Canyon in the school library.  All my friends loved coming to our house to play “at the gravel pit.”  We would spend hours entertaining one another as treasure hunters, building forts, digging steps up the steep side of the cliffs, and riding our bikes as fast as our nine-year-old legs would take us.  The tall Mississippi pines watched as we played make believe, standing proud guarding over our carefree child’s play. 

The most cherished spots were the areas where small caves had formed.  We kept old blankets, a few bottles of coke, some matches and candles hidden inside the caves and pretended we were camping like the cowboys out West.  The holes dug into the side of the cliff kept our cokes cool. We’d spend hours imagining what it would have been like to see Indians standing on top of the cliffs in the distance. It was my place to retreat from all the tension at home. My brother was in Vietnam and my Momma stayed upset a lot of the time.

I never felt afraid of being in the pits, even on days like today when I came alone after getting home from school. I was just about to climb into my favorite little cave when I thought I heard gravel crunching across the canyon from me.  Scanning the entire pit and not seeing anything, I figured it was a deer or maybe a rabbit. I decided to dig for arrowheads.  My siblings before me started a nice collection years ago, and I was proud to add my own finds.  Happily digging around, with not much luck, I realized the sun was starting to set and Momma would be wondering where I was. 

After placing my digging tools safely in their dug-out cubby, I decided to leave by the lesser used path.  It cut out a few meters, but there were brambles and tree limbs hanging down that made it harder to navigate on a bike.  Just as I finally got to the top, I noticed that there was a path to the right that cut through the woods.  I stopped long enough to see that it was a well-worn path.  Being my usual curious self, I decided to see where it led.  The further I rode on the path, the darker it became because of the overhang of the pines.  Their pine needles kept the path soft and quiet, but also hard to ride a bike.  I decided to get off Winnie and prop her against a tree and proceed on foot.  Winnie is my bike.  She is red with a white basket on the front.  Me and Winnie have some great times together, and even when I skid and scrape my knees, she always waits for me to get back on for another adventure.

I ease forward and come to a turn in the path.  Through the bushes, I can see an old shack. It is covered in moss and twigs and looks like something out of one of my Nancy Drew books.  The doors are metal and rusted and some of the planks are missing. There was an old cane chair sitting on the edge of the yard, if you could call it that.  A scarf of some kind was hanging off the back of the chair. I immediately recognize it was one I saw my Granny Mae crocheting.  What was Granny Mae doing here in the woods?  Was this her shack?  I had never heard anyone mention a shack, and since my favorite pastime was eavesdropping on the adults every chance I got, I was pretty sure this shack was a secret.  I picked up the scarf which was way too long for me, and that was when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.  I turned around and looked up into the face of the scariest thing I had ever seen in my nine years.  It looked like a creature covered in matted hair, and its skin looked like an alligator.  Its wrinkles had wrinkles.  Was this BIGFOOT?  My siblings loved to tease me that one day Bigfoot was going to come from the woods and take me away where no one would ever find me again.  I screamed at the top of my lungs when its hand clamped down on my shoulder. I turned to run but tripped on the scarf.  I was kicking, screaming, and scrambling to get away.  I could feel its hands trying to pull at me!  I was crying and shaking so badly!

“Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, please don’t……”

Suddenly, it stopped and when I opened my eyes, it held out its hand to help me up.  Instead, I scooted back and stood up on my own.  It reached out again but did not move towards me.  I realized it was asking for the scarf.  I threw it and took off running harder than I had ever run before.  I saw Winnie ahead of me propped against the tree where I had left her.  Sweet Winnie, carry me home!!   I did not stop until I had ridden the half mile into our yard.  My heart was pounding so fast I could hear it in my ears.  I ditched Winnie next to the carport and ran inside like I was on fire. 

My Momma was at the stove stirring a pot getting our supper ready.  The warm smell of biscuits in the oven and the scent of her cooking wafting around the cozy kitchen immediately calmed me.  I was safe!  Home! 

Momma looked over at me as I slumped onto a barstool and smiled at me.  Her smile could light up a stage.  “Hey there, Molly girl! What’s got you so out of breath? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Still winded, I decided to play it cool.  The last thing I wanted was for her to think there was some reason I could not play at the gravel pits by myself.  “Oh, just trying to get my exercise in.  I rode without stopping.”

“Ah, that’s some good exercise for sure.  I suspect you will be ready for some of this good meatloaf I have in the oven.  Go wash your face and hands, your Daddy is due home any minute and I need you to set the table, okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I responded as I jumped down and headed to the bathroom.  Man!  That was a close call.  I could not wait to call my best friend, Nina after dinner and let her know Bigfoot was real and living in our woods!  She would freak out!   As I began my nightly routine of helping in the kitchen and getting my homework ready for school, I tried to put it out of my mind.  I had horrible nightmares though and decided the next morning it would be a while before I’d go back to the pits by myself.  I did enjoy bragging that Bigfoot lived in our woods and even though my friends did not believe me, I was quite popular for a few days at school.

The following week school was out for the Thanksgiving holiday.  I loved the holidays because it meant I could sleep late, and Momma would be in the kitchen cooking all my favorite foods.  My aunts and uncles and cousins would be coming over and there would be lots of laughing and having fun.  Maybe I could entice my cousins to go to the pits with me and see if we could spot Bigfoot at the old shack again.  Safety in numbers, after all!

I was busy setting the kids table when I overheard Momma and Daddy talking about fixing some food in containers for Stubs.  My eyes immediately perked up. 

“Who’s Stubs?” I asked.

Daddy turned from carving a huge ham Momma had decorated with pineapple slices and cherries and responded, “He’s an old WWII vet that lives over in the woods.  He helps me around the place when he is able.  His real name is Charlie Stubs, but we always called him Stubbs when we were kids.  He has not been right since the war.  Shell shocked or something.  His Daddy used to work for your Granddaddy Ray.  We try to help him as much as he will let us. Weird old guy, but we keep an eye out for him. Want to come with me when I take him his Thanksgiving meal?”  Daddy had resumed cutting the ham and I just stood there with my mouth hanging open.  Could Charlie Stubs be BIGFOOT??  That couldn’t be.  Bigfoot was reported to be some type of creature, not a human man.  Even though I was scared to be back near it again, I could not help myself by replying, “Yes, please.”

Momma loaded down a huge wicker clothes basket with ham, turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, rolls, sweet potato pie, and veggies of every kind.  She tucked in a package of paper plates, utensils, napkins, and cups. The basket was so full she asked me to carry the gallon of sweet tea in an old milk jug.

I could not believe my Momma and Daddy knew Bigfoot!  They acted like this was a perfectly normal thing! I climbed in the front seat of Daddy’s Chevy truck, and he turned out of our driveway and entered the gravel road from the highway that led to the pits.  As we bumped along, my Daddy noticed that I was unusually quiet. 

“You okay, Monkey?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What’s got your tongue today? You are usually wound up like a top when your cousins are coming over.”

“Daddy? Is Stubs Bigfoot?”  I looked over at him. 

“Bigfoot?!  Why in the world would you think that?  You know that’s just an old legend your brother and sisters like to scare you with, right?” Daddy just patted my arm and pulled up near the little path I had discovered myself.

“Come on, let me introduce you to Stubs.  He wouldn’t hurt a fly.  Little scary looking and crusty around the edges, but he is a good soul.” Daddy was quickly making his way towards the shack, like he had been there countless times before.  It occurred to me that he had. 

Stubs was sitting in the cane chair stripping cedar limbs of their needles and bark.  He looked up when he heard us approach but kept working. 

“Hey, hey ole man!  Look what we brought for you!  A feast fit for a king.  Come see and meet my girl, Molly.” Daddy pushed me from around his side right in front of Stubs.  I was wondering if he was going to tell Daddy that I had been snooping around his place.  I finally got up the courage to look up into his face and I realized he had nice warm, brown eyes.  His beard was all matted and his skin looked like he hadn’t had a bath in a very long time, but he was not Bigfoot after all.  He was just an old man, and not very scary at all. Why, he wasn’t even very tall!  He must have seen the fear in my eyes, but he merely nodded at me. 

He seemed very excited about Momma’s cooking (who wasn’t) and I heard him softly thank my Daddy for such a large bounty.  Daddy inquired if he was warm enough and was there anything he needed.  

“Johnny boy, I got all I need right here.  Thank you very much and God Bless.” He picked up the scarf I had wrapped around my own neck not two weeks ago and smiled a toothless smile.  His whole face lit up and suddenly seemed transformed from this old dirty bum to a beam of light.

He was busily pulling food out of the hamper when Daddy and I started back to the truck.  As we drove the short drive back to our house, Daddy asked me what I thought of Stubs.

“Daddy, he smells really bad, and I am a bit afraid of him.  I was snooping around a couple of weeks ago and found his shack.  I saw the scarf Granny Mae had made and I put it on when he came up behind me.  He scared me so, that I started kicking and screaming because I thought he was Bigfoot.” It all came rushing out in one big breath.  It felt so good to tell someone what had happened. 

“I know.” Daddy replied, glancing over at me.

“You know?  How did you know?” I could not believe it.

“Stubs told me the other day when I took him some cabbage and turnips from the winter garden that you had found him.  He had a good laugh when I told him you thought he was Bigfoot. I asked him ages ago to keep an eye on you young’uns when you’re playing in the pits.”

“But how did you know I thought he was Bigfoot, Daddy?”

“Parents hear things, Mols.  Your Momma overheard you telling Nina on the phone one night.”

I was crushed.  I thought I had this big, bad secret and they knew all along. Now I was angry!  “Well Daddy, he is horrible looking, and he stinks!  Why doesn’t he take a bath?  Why does he live in a shack?” Hurt that I had been found out, I was determined to remind him that he was a scary old man.

Daddy parked the truck and turned the motor off.  He touched my arm when I started to open the door. 

“Molly, remember all those verses Ms. Billie makes you memorize in Sunday School?  Remember the one in Matthew where Jesus talks about if you do it to the least of these, you also do it to me?  That was his way of saying that we should love one another, even the ones that do not appear very lovable.  Stubs fought for our country and risked his life.  He had two brothers killed over there and by the time the war was over, he had seen and done things a man has a hard time living with.  We cannot understand what goes on in his head, but we can be kind, give him some food and offer to help when we see the need.  Remember that the next time you come across someone who seems different than you.  We are all God’s children, and he does not see a bum when he looks at Charlie, he sees his child.  Okay?”  Daddy let go of my arm and we got out and headed inside where family had already started gathering for our Thanksgiving celebration.

While I was eating, I felt bad for judging Stubs. I hoped he was enjoying this turkey as much as I was.  I decided right then and there to share with all my friends that he was not Bigfoot but a hero from WWII that lived on our property. 

The next trip into the pits, as I was getting my digging tools out of the cubby hole there was something wrapped in a tattered handkerchief.  I unwrapped an intricately carved figurine.  It looked a lot like Bigfoot wearing a scarf. I smelled the lovely scent of cedar and smiled.  I hoped Stubs was watching. Something told me that he was.