The Dreaded Call

I got the dreaded call this morning at 6:00 AM.

“Who in the hell is calling me at 6:00 in the morning?” I thought as I stumbled towards the phone.

It was Uncle Bob. These people have no understanding of privacy, civility, or normal sleep periods.

“Jonathon? Will you drive up here today?” Bob asked in his country twang voice. “I really need you up here as I need some help.”

Driving up there is a three hour drive.

“When are you discharged?” I asked standing there half asleep.

“Most likely Wednesday hereabouts.” Bob replied.

“I will get up there as soon as I can.” I answered kind of evasively.

Which meant that I would be up there first thing in the morning; I don’t want to spend the 4th of July on the road. I also don’t have the money for a hotel room and wouldn’t have any place to stay for two nights other than the chair in the hospital room.

I have plans for today such as our traditional 4th of July chicken barbeque. I wouldn’t miss that for anything in the world even the second coming of Christ. My father cooks it and it is a family tradition and delicacy. Dad uses my grandmother’s special recipe barbeque sauce and slow roasts the chicken for hours over charcoal. My grandmother was often quoted as saying us grandchildren would eat a dish rag if it were coated it in this sauce. It is that good. There is a family legend where my cousin Clifton ate four halves or two whole chickens in one sitting back in the sixties that gets told every 4th of July on this occasion.

I did drive by the Piggly Wiggly earlier on my way to the convenience store. It was deserted and closed. Hey, even crack dealers have to get a day off from time to time. I did see George down at the convenience store playing the lottery. He has developed quite an addiction for scratch off tickets. That conversation will ensue after this.