MOONSHINER'S DAUGHTER

Growing up poor in the Smokies...how did we survive?

by Mary Judith Messer

Big Kernels and Safe Barns
An Excerpt from
“Moonshiner’s Daughter” By Mary Judith Messer

. . . . . In the fall of every year, Mama had us children help her go around to all the black walnut trees we could find and pick up the walnuts and help her take off the hull so she could dry them. That old black walnut juice would get on our hands and it wouldn’t come off for days. We just hated that black juice. We would spread out the walnuts to dry. When they were good and dry, she would drag out her old iron, put it between her legs, take a hammer and crack the walnuts. She would crack out large kernels. No one could crack out big kernels like my Mama. We tried to help her crack them out, but she stopped us right away.

. . . . . “You are breaking up the kernels,” she would say.

. . . . . She took the kernels after she finished cracking them out and would spread them on a white piece of sheet to dry, then put them in this flour sack. When she went to town, she would take them to Clyde Ray’s Supermarket and sell them by the pound. Then she took that money and got us what Christmas we had. She’d buy nuts, oranges, stick candy and cakes and maybe a toy. This was the best time of the year.

. . . . . One Christmas day was a day to remember for sure. Mama had killed a chicken and she had a big pot of chicken and dumplings bubbling on the stove. She had used her walnut money to buy a big chocolate cake and also a coconut cake. She set it all on the table with her big, round biscuits. We couldn’t wait for the feast! As we sat down at the table, Daddy started talking foolishly about something or other. He was drunk, as usual. Mama tried to settle him down to get him to eat something. Every minute he got louder, cussing and mumbling. Then all at once, he jumped up and grabbed the old shotgun. A shot went off and we four children ran out the door, Mama right behind us. It was freezing, and we ran out without shoes, or coats. We ran up the hill to the old gravel road and then ran down through Ninevah, my feet numb and my teeth chattering; I was so cold. Cheryl, my oldest sister, had no coat or shoes either and Joanie, the youngest, was crying, being carried on Mama’s hip. Joe was almost crying. We ran way down the gravel road. We crossed over a big wire fence, down a hill through a cow pasture and into an old barn.

. . . . . We crawled up in the loft of the barn into some hay. Mama made a hay bed for Joanie, put her in it and pulled hay over her. Then she laid down next to us and got as close to us as she could. I lay there all night long, starting at every little sound, afraid it was Daddy coming to shoot us. My stomach was growling for all our good food we left. Joanie was sobbing and Mama put her hand over her mouth because she was afraid Daddy would come to hurt us if he heard Joanie. Mama finally got Joanie to stop crying. It was almost daylight; in spite of being cold and hungry, I had finally drifted off to sleep.

. . . . . Mama woke up and real quietly she whispered, “Let’s go and see if he has slept it off.”

. . . . . We all eased out of our safe place in the hay. Joe’s lips were blue from the cold. I was shaking in my cotton dress. What a night! We stumbled and fell lots of times before we got up to the road. Joanie was on Mama’s hip and she fell once. When we finally got to the old shack, the door was wide open and there was not a sign of Daddy. All the windows in the kitchen were blown out. Glass was everywhere and I mean everywhere, including in all the food. The old iron stove heater was out and so was the old wood cook stove. The shack was like an ice box. It was no warmer than outside. Mama had Cheryl and me carry in some firewood. When we walked out, Cheryl and I both cut our feet. Mama tried to sweep up all the glass. The coconut cake was on the floor in little pieces. Joe tried to get some food but Mama stopped him for he would surely die if he ate any of the glass. Even the plates were full of glass.

. . . . . Mama said, “Daddy must have run after us with the gun. When he saw we had run away, he turned around and shot out all the windows. He’s probably back up in the woods.” We knew that was where Daddy had his still.

. . . . . Mama and Cheryl nailed pasteboard over the windows to try and keep out the cold. It didn’t really do much good.

. . . . . Of course, Daddy came back. Merry Christmas.