Musings of a Dumb Ass

Musings of a Dumb Ass...... Willie Hilton was a mountain man who called each one of his 7 daughters 'sugarbooger' and each one of his 6 sons 'big boy'. His wifes' name was Bess but he called her 'Baby'. All 3 or 4 teeth he had were chocolate brown and he carried a twist of tobacco that he knawed a chew off of about every 15 minutes or so and from which he spat the residue from about every 30 seconds onto whatever was in the way. The inside drivers side door of his 2 ton log truck that also served as the family vehicle was originally gray but had long ago given over to the same chocolate brown from Willie spitting on it because he didn't want to take the chance on his tobacco spit blowing out and 'hittin' the car behind him when he was driving down the road. Willie was a colorful characture and fun to talk to. If someone said something that shocked him he'd say 'Keeeeriiiimany Christ Damn'. If he saw something new that he didn't understand he'd say ' Reckon somebody else needs to worry 'bout that'. He referred to God as 'The Boss' but didn't go to church. Instead he'd drive Bess and the thirteen kids to church in and on the log truck and wait outside talking to the other men who wouldn't go in either, spitting, cussing and sharpening his knife till it was dangerous then checking it out by shaving little bits of hair off his leg or when it was warm, his arm. Willie was a simple man and respected by those who knew him. He didn't have a job and instead took a team of mules and Bess to the woods and cut logs to sell in town. He'd find a natural ditch or something to park the truck in, about bank level with the truck bed, then he knew just how to manuever the mules and skid the logs up to where him and Bess could roll them on to the bed until he had a load to go to town with. Everybody knew Willie couldn't read or write, but he didn't need to. In his world he understood everything he needed to. He knew when any of his 13 kids were misbehaving almost before they did, and if he didn't get things straightened out, he'd take 'em out behind the house and raise their 'asscrack a dab higher' which always translated to better behaviour immediately. Willie knew how to bring in a calf that was having trouble being born, which grass grew best in the shade, and a King Snake was good to have around the house 'cause it'd kill all them poison snakes of Satan' around the yard. He never wore a watch but always knew what time it was and never voted cause 'them big men would never know about him anyway'. One of his prized possessions was a glass prism that hung off a screw in the top of the cab of his truck and dangled down close to the dash. He misunderstood the word 'prism' and said 'prison glass' instead. He believed it was used by prisoners down at Tucker Prison Farm to practice that 'voodoo shit' and 'devil dealin, shootin them lights from it all around hells half acre'. Willie died at 97 years old and had 62 grandkids. I wasn't around to go to the funeral but the little 40 seat church was no match for the gathering so the services were held outside where he used to wait on 'Bess and the kids' to get through in church. Willie never understood the prism. Tonight my 8 year old grandson is doing his homework and in his math he must answer 'What is a prism'? The correct answer is: A general prism is a polyhedron possessing 2 congruent polygonal faces and with all remaining faces parallelograms. My grandson has a vague idea of how the prism works and will totally understand it soon, and I believe Willie would've had an understanding of my grandson. However, I don't think my grandson could ever understood anything about Willie. I'm sad about that..............