The Riddle of Uncle Festus’s Longevity
by John Waldo Miller
WARNING: This story contains mountain dialect and does not follow the rules of rules of grammar and punctuation. Read at your own risk.
Everyone in Haygood County knew Uncle Festus to be a legend. However, in that county, anyone a hundred years or older is considered a legend. He, without a doubt, was their Methuselah of the Mountains. Everyone wondered how and why he had been able to live in three centuries. His longevity a mystery and he would not tell.
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He looked like Moses, a goat herder out of the Bible, or maybe a shepherd all rolled in one. In his long swallowtail coat, he could be mistaken for a circuit marrying preacher-man. His beard of many colors hung down to his belly button along with his snow-white gray hair. However, that was only the short of it. Some folks wondered what he carried in the bag slung over his shoulder. Some did not know it was his hair, all twenty-six feet long and still growing. |
His shirt always unbuttoned, except for those five times he got married. In summer no shoes, but after the first frost, on went the shoes along with the long underwear, both never removed until spring. He enjoyed showing off his feet of leather-like soles. In addition, crush hot coals with his naked feet for the children who followed him around town. To them, he was their pied piper without a flute, even if he did look like a man that had changed into a wolf.
It took a nosey preacher-man to find out the secret of his long time on this planet. It seems the Baptist preacher-man, Morerles Showaters, spent a great deal of his church’s time sitting on the big preaching rock on the West bank of the Pigeon River. One could find him there jest about any early morning. There he contemplated and rehearsed his next Sunday all day highly praised chloroforming sermons. Some folks claimed him to be a religious switch hitter who could go either Methodist or Baptist. He held both titles as a certified sprinkler and dipper to boot. He could go with the best of them; bark, shake his head, howl like a female hound in heat, and seduce any congregation. It was super awful, but awful in those days was the best of the best.
On this particular morning, the nosey preacher-man found someone clothes on the top of the “Preaching Rock.” A big tall rock of granite left over from time that faced down river. Now used for preaching rehearsal by all the up and coming chloroformers. Not only did he find Uncle Festus’s clothes, but behold, there swam Uncle Festus in the Pigeon River, and of all things, nude. This preacher–man didn’t know it at the time, but he about to solve the riddle and mystery of Uncle Festus’s longevity, something no one else had been able to do.
Swimming in the early morning was not something Uncle Festus did every day. Most of the time, he swam by the light of the moon after midnight. He never missed a night, week after week, month after month, and swam in all kinds of weather. Even sometimes with two foot of snow on the ground. He always swam after midnight but not because of swimming in the nude. As always, Uncle Festus swam and sung Cherokee.
Seeing Uncle Festus, singing, swimming, and especially nude, shocked the preacher-man. What was the reason for Uncle Festus to swim everyday in the nude? This preacher-man wanted to know, had to know. There had been rumors over the years that someone swam after midnight in the Pigeon River.
Now this preacher-man thought it could Uncle Festus and he had an idea. He told Uncle Festus, “Uncle Festus, I ain’t gonna give your clothes till you tell me something. What has driven you all these years to swim the river in the nude after midnight? I jest gots to know.”
Uncle Festus stood there bare ass as a Sunday school jay and spit out, “I ain’t gonna tell you, give’e my clothes first.”
That preacher-man threatened to throw him out of church, to remove his name from the roll, “those going to heaven,” and worst of all, promised to bar him from the foot-washing services.
Well, that hair lipped the goat, coupled with that promise of no more foot-washing service, was too much, Uncle Festus yielded. He put his clothes back on, rolled his long hair in a ball, stuck it in his hair sack, and set down on a log next to the preacher-man.
Then he took a chew of Redman chewing tobacco, and said, “You’uns aren’t gonna believe this,” then spit on a frog.
Uncle Festus- “Well sir, Reverend Showaters, it all goes back to that there time when I were a young man. You’uns sees, I could raise bees better than anybody could and had more beehives than anyone in the valley. One cold mornin’ I found one of my hives empty. Somethin’ or someone had stole my honey.” gawking at Reverend Showaters.
Uncle Festus- “But I could tell that there hive were knocked over by somethin’and that somethin’ put the lid back on that there hive. Hit were a mystery.”
Shaking his head he mutters out, “Now I tell you’un, I didn’t think hit were no bear, because them hives weren’t all torn up. So, I says to myself, mind you, I’ll dig holes and planted big logs all around them hives, make a bear barricade, jest in case now . . . I done that . . .!”
Uncle Festus said he had to go behind a tree. When he came back he said, “Well sir, I hung that entire cluster of them hives from a big limb on an old oak tree, ant that’s tis alot of trouble. Now they were off the ground, and I thinks, if anythin’ or somethin’ are’s gonna steal my honey, that somethin’ is gonna has to fly.”
Uncle Festus fumbled for his chewing tobacco. Then he said, “I’m in the honey bee business for two reasons. Not only did it bring a good profit, but for another reason. Bees like me; I don’t need any protection from their sting. They jest didn’t sting me. I’m not mad at the bees. I’m one of those rare people that bugs don’t brother to bite. I can pick up a hornet’s nest or wasp’s nest and they won’t sting me.”
Uncle Festus went on to say, “Bugs, hornets, bees, and snakes, all can tell if you’un don’t like’ um. Just like a she dog in heat, she puts out sump’tum you don’t or do cotton’to. Hit sump kind of signal or sump’tum that she does, but maybe you don’t know hit. Hit’s kind of a signal that tells them bees you don’t like none of them, a’fraid of’um. I don’t put out no smell or no signal cause I ain’t mad at’um.”
Then the nosey preacher-man stopped Uncle Festus and asked, “Whoa Uncle Festus, how do bees have anythin’ to do with your swimmin’?”
Uncle Festus-“Wait, hold on reverend, I’m gonna get there in a moment.”
He paused and said, “I decided I would get up one morning’ before sun up and hide near one of my beehives to see what or who were stealin’ my honey. I hid behind a tree before the morning’ mist raised and watched. Sure enuff, in the morning’ mist jest after gray dawn, I seen the top lid rise off that beehive and float in the air, but nobody was makin’ that lid come up. Whatever was makin’ that lid rise were invisible,” as Uncle Festus hand waved and his voice trailed off, “hit jest . . . floated away!”
Then he reached for his tobacco, stopped, raised his wrinkled hand, waved, then signaled, “Then I saw the honey cone come up and float off toward the sky in the morning’ mist. Whatever it were, it put that there lid back on thu beehive. Now, I’ll jest tell you that scared the triple hell out of me, and I took time out to get real still.”
Uncle Festus had done what a mountain man would do in a situation like this. He froze. Now he knew something invisible was eating his honey.
Uncle Festus whined, “Then all of a sudden, to my amazement, a little creature man appear out of nowhere on the side of that oak tree! He had a little pointed hat on his head and dressed in what we would call today a camboflage suit. When the little man turned his head, his clothes would change color. Hit were sitt’in on an oak stump eatin’ a honey cone and had turned the color of that there stump. Holy Moses, that honey stealer has gots chameleon powers.”
Uncle Festus stopped took a deep breath and slowly said, “I didn’t dare move, but took two deep breaths and I knew it were Tell-All, that there mountain muse.”
Preacher-man shook his head, “I have heard about this so called muse, but I thought it was jest a myth. Is it true that Tell-All was born a Nannehi fairy chief’s daughter, and maybe of a Melungeon prince? They say he lives on top of Clingman’s Dome up in the Smokey clouds.”
Uncle Festus remarked, “I believe you gots it right. Now let me tell you’uns. When Tell-All finished off his last honey cone, the son of a bitch slowly disappeared. In a few minutes, I seen another lid come off. And in a few more minutes, the bastard came visible again. I realized that eatin’ my honey made that there Tell-All visible.”
Preacher-man Showaters looked like he didn’t believe, “You got to be puttin’ me on. You say the honey made him visible. I don’t believe it.”
Uncle Festus shook his head up and down, “I had to figure out how to catch him while he were visible. But I needed to think about that for a while, cause the question were, how does you catch a honey eatin’ muse? Nobody had ever caught a muse. Who in these mountains knows how to catch a muse that’s as slick as Tell-All?”
Uncle Festus took a plug of tobacco, chewed it, spit, and then said, “Later on that day I asked myself, ‘myself who does we know that knows how to catch a muse alive.’ Then it came to me, only one person in these mountains knows, Crazy Annie.
“She’s the bitch that lives in a cave under Clingman’s Dome, older than water or dirt, not even human. If anybody knew, it would be Crazy Annie, considered unpleasant, bastard rat ugly and smells of sulfur. Some considered her an illegal she-danger to men. Men had gone up there and never returned. Some even said she turns them into boar hogs.”
Preacher-man spoke up, “I’ve heard about her too. But I really didn’t think she existed, jest another myth.”
Uncle Festus laughed, “Well she lives, believe me she does. So I went. I knew her weakness for flowers, valley flowers. So I picked her the biggest bouquet of flowers in the valley, flowers that Crazy Annie had never seen. She couldn’t resist a gift. I also took somethin’ else, liquor, my cherry jump shine.”
Preacher-man said, “Well, that ought to do it if anythin’ will.”
Uncle Festus grinned, “After about a week with Crazy Annie, I knew how to catch Tell-All. I needed a rope made from vines found in an ancient graveyard where they had buried slaves. They called it Red Devil vine, cut durin’ a full moon with a knife dipped in a skunk’s fresh pee. Use a left-handed gourd filled with honey, a gourd with the hole in the handle. Tie that gourd to a tree with the Red Devil vine. When he sticks his hand in the neck and grabs the honey, he can’t turn lose of the honey in the gourd, which he craves.”
Uncle Festus said, “That’s what she told me. But, the next thing weren’t too easy. I had to find a way to leave. When I got ready to leave, I pulled out a hand mirror from my knap sack and showed it to Crazy Annie. The sight of seein’ herself scared the hell out of her, she ran back into the depths of her cave. And I took off for home.”
Preacher-man, by now completely mystified by Uncle Festus, said, “Well, don’t stop now.”
Uncle Festus, replied, “Trappin’ Tell-All would be like trappin’ them monkeys in Africa. I planed to make a monkey out of Tell-All. I knew where to find everythin’ I needed.”
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"Uncle Festus smiled, “Over on the other side of Plott’s Mountain on Felix Walker’s farm is Turner’s ancient graveyard. It has slaves buried in it. The first night that had a full moon, I took off for Turner Graveyard on my best white mule, Jesus. We didn’t want anyone seemin’ us enter the graveyard, so we didn’t carry a lantern. After stumblin’ around in the dark, we found the bush with the Red Devil vines. We cut a bunch of them, put’um in a sack, and took off for home.
“Now mind you’uns, that there were easy, but the skunk urine proved to be a test of my woodman skills. How I did it, nobody knows, and I ain’t about to tell you’uns.
“Tell-All were shocked. He couldn’t get his hand out of the gourd. He would not turn loose of the honey inside the gourd. Then he tried to run off with the gourd, but the Devil Vine rope tied to the gourd snapped him back down on the ground. I had caught Tell-All. He were so humiliated and subdued; his camouflaged suit turned an embarrassin’ pink.
“I jumped from behind the tree and hollered, ‘gots you’uns Tell-All.’
“Tell-All were stunned, he couldn’t run, he were trapped, tied to that tree by that Red Devil vine. Then Tell-All come on back around, grinned like a Rebublican, and said, ‘Why, hello Festus! I’ve been want’un to meet you, been watchin’ you’uns for years. Turn me loose from this here tree so we can talk. I didn’t know that this here honey were yours.’
“I laughed and then gave Tell-All an over due lecture on stealin’ a man’s honey. Tell-All you is a thief first, and second, a triple-double liar. First, you steal my honey, second you say you’un knows me, and you don’ts! Then you say you’un didn’t knows it were my honey, but you’un did knows it were mine. I’m not a’bouts to turns you loose. If you’uns had’er comes to me first, I would’ve gives you all that there honey you wants. Now you’uns put me though a’great deals of troubles.
Uncle Festus said, “That Tell-All started talkin’ like a Rebublican. He said, ‘Now Festus, lets be friends, jest turns me loose and I’ll rewards you’un somehow.’
“Before either one of us could say anythin’ I felt a sudden breeze. Hit touched a laurel bush, and I heard a gentle voice say, ‘Tell-All! I tolds you that honey were goin’ to get you’un in troubles someday and now you’un is caught! I told you! I told you so!’
“And like a soft gentle breeze, the voice trailed off like a travelin’ breeze, barely heard or felt.”
I looked at Tell-All and he said, ‘That’s Laurel Leaf, she’s a friend of mine who controls the winds in this part of the mountains. We works together. When she’s happy, it a soft gentle breeze, but when she’s mad, look out, it’s a big blow. You’ll pay hell tryin. to catch her, nobody has ever caught the wind.’”
Uncle Festus took another plug of Red Man tobacco and confessed, “Then Laurel Leaf gave me a lecture.” She said, ‘Yep! And I knows who you’un are’s. You’un the one that runs all the weight off them black bear pups! Those poor little things, chasing them up that mountainside with a peach tree switch. You are making a nuisance out of yourself when you chase down them little deer fawns jest to see if you’un can catch’um. I think that’s terrible. You gots to quit that, can’t keep on actin’ ugly all the times.’”
Uncle Festus said, “But Laurel Leaf wouldn’t let up on me. She said, ‘If you promise to stop chasing the animals, I’ll throw you a friendly breeze now and then. You’un is going to need one, messing with Tell-All. To start with, you’un had better look at Tell-All’s shirt, cause that little elephant on his shirt collar means he’s a Rebublican. But, to ease you mind, I’m an Independent, I knows which way the wind is going to blow.’
“I liked Laurel Leaf and I could trust her. She knew who to watch, Tell-All. I also knew I had to turn Tell-All lose before nightfall or this muse would turn into a lightin’ bug. But what favor could I ask of Tell-All. Hit had to be a favor granted before dark.
“So, I started a plea bargain and asked, ‘Now that we got to know each other, what are you goin’ to swap me for you freedom, Tell-All?’
“But Tell-All responded as a politician would, ‘What do you want? My side of the aisle is ready to cut a deal for my freedom.’
“I said, ‘I wants to live a hundred years.’
“Then Tell-All answered, ‘Jest like a Dimocrat, always askin’ for somethin’ expensive, illegal, and almost impossible!’
Uncle Festus-, “Tell-All thought about that for a long time and finally said, ‘Ok! But you will have to solve a riddle first and then I’ll see what I can do, that is, if you sweeten the deal with some honey cone now and then.’”
“I said, ‘Jest like a Rebublican, always tryin’ to give up nothin’, does nothin’, want everythin’, and gets everythin’. Them little elephants on yo collar, do tell all.’
“So, I said ‘O.K. I’ll take on your riddle. What’s the riddle?’
“Tell-all smiled and said. . ."
‘From the waters of the black,
East to West rushes at nights glow,
Nevermore to run wayward back,
Here life’s waters does flow,
Bath here in the creek’s end foam,
Grants you’uns length of days,
Brings snow on your dome,
One hundred years of age,’
Uncle Festus-“I heard the riddle and replied, ‘I needs time to solves it. I’ll trust you’uns to meet me here tomorrow.’
Uncle Festus-“Then I turned Tell-All loose, he quickly disappeared, and Laurel Leaf was gone in a breeze.”
Now that preacher-man was completely under Uncle Festus’s spell. He asked, “Come on, come on, tell me the meaning of the riddle!”
Uncle Festus said, “That night I figured out what the riddle meant. First line read, ‘from the waters of the black,’ which means it has somethin’ to do with the black Panther Creek. Second line reads, ‘East to West rushes at nights glows,’ meanin’ it had to be at nighttime in the light of the moon. Third line was easy and read, ‘nevermore to run wayward back,’ means the creek never has run backwards.
“Fourth line was a little harder but read, ‘here life’s waters does flow’, and it means, here is where I would find a longer life, somewhere in the water, but where? Fifth line, ‘Bath here in the creeks ends foam,’ it’s in the foam where I needed to swim, that’s where the waters of the Panther Creek run head-on into the Pigeon River. Panther Creek’s water hit the bank of the Pigeon River and when it bounds back, it creates foam.
Sixth line read; ‘Grants you’uns length of days,’ that’s my payoff for turnin Tell-All loose. Seventh line describes; ‘With snow on my dome’, the foam slowly kept me from agin’. Eighth line is, ‘One hundred years of life. Bingo!’”
Uncle Festus took a deep breath and said, “When I put it all together this is what it meant: swim in the Pigeon River where Panther Creek joins the Pigeon River. It’s the foam of the Pigeon River that keeps me young and when mixed with the Panther Creek’s foam.
“But that slick Tell-All had a surprise for me at the meetin’ the next day. What I calls catches.
Tell-All agreed I had it correct. But then he said. ‘There’s somethin’ else.’
“I bang my fist against a tree and shouted, “I knew it! I knew it, a Rebublican trick.
“I was hot and shouted, ‘What do you mean two catches? Is this one of them Rebublican tricks? I should have left you on that there tree. It would’ve been interestin’ to see what kind of lightin’ bug you’un would make. No doubt, it would’ofs been a sorry half blinkin’ light no doubt, no doubt.’
“But that son of a bitch Tell-All had to laugh, and told me, ‘Festus I haven’t even told you’un what the two catches is.’
‘Then what is they?’ “I ask that bastard.”
Uncle Festus- “He said, ‘each time you bathe in the river you must sing this riddle. Actually it’s an old Cherokee song that the great shaman, ‘Swimmer A’yu’ini’, sung when he bathed in the great river to the east, the French Broad, or the magic won’t work. The other part to the catch is you’un got to do is be married five times,’ that son of a bitch, Tell-All knew I hated marriage.
“I went thru the top of the trees and when I comes down, I tells him, ‘you are a dirty Ramp Rebublican, you’uns smell. You’all knows how I hate marriage. The singin’ I can handle, but the marryin’ stuff I can’t handle. I’s got too be free.’
“Well, that goddamn Tell-All knew he had to do somethin’ fast. Tell-All said, ‘Ok, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll throw in a few extra years.’
“So, I asked him, ‘how many?’
“Twenty answered Tell-All.”
“Make it twenty-five, a quarter of a century,” said Uncle Festus.
“Tell-All gave in and said, ‘Ok, You got a deal.’” Two weeks later, a farmer found a naked man that had drowned down stream from the junction of the Pigeon River and Panther Creek. The strong current and rocks had made the man unidentifiable, his face bashed in. At first, no one could identify the man. But then a young unmarried woman from the church gave a positive identification of the body. Without a doubt, it was preacher-man.
Then another young widow also came forth and backed the other lady up when she said, “Oh! It him all right, we spend alot of time together in prayer. I’ll miss him more than you know.”
Some of the congregation still wondered how the two ladies were able to identify the preacher-man, especially with no face and nude.
Over in town someone said, “Uncle Festus do you knows anythin’ about the good Reverend Moreles Showwaters drownin’, and why he were naked?”
Uncle Festus said, “Sure do. I ran into him one earlier morning down on the Pigeon River and the creek junction when he was doin’ one of his contomplations. He asked me, ‘Uncle Festus is what you jest told me, is the truth, the whole truth, and nothin’ but the truth, so help you God’.”
“I said, “Hell yes it’s all the goddamn truth, I wouldn’t tell a lie about that.”
Someone asked, “What were you’uns talking about, Uncle Festus?
Uncle Festus, “It were all abouts singin’..., bees..., and stuff like that.”
Then Uncle Festus heard someone in the crowd say they didn’t think he could swim.
Uncle Festus laughed and replied, “I don’t think he could sing either.”
John Waldo Miller
Thanks for the great story, you have a gift... John Wolf
