A Piedmont Porchlight Story
Everybody in Piedmont knows Blackwelder’s Hardware. Mr. Blackwelder always swept the sidewalk before opening. Every morning. Didn’t matter if there wasn’t a leaf on it. He said a swept porch welcomed decent company.
One October morning he unlocked the front door just before sunrise. As he stepped onto the sidewalk… he heard somebody whistling. Not singing. Just whistling. An old tune. Close enough to sound like it was coming from just around the corner of the building.
He figured one of the railroad men had gotten an early start. Walked around. Nobody. Went back to sweeping. There it was again. Same tune. Always just out of sight.
This goes on for years. He never tells anyone because it sounds ridiculous. Then one morning Sheriff Booker stops by before daylight for a box of .22 shells. Before Mr. Blackwelder can unlock the door, Booker says, “Who’s that whistlin’?”
Mr. Blackwelder just looks at him. Booker points toward the side alley. “Sounds like somebody’s over there.” They walk around together. Nothing. Not a soul. Booker shrugs. “Funny.”
Never mentions it again. Years later, after Blackwelder’s closes for good… folks occasionally claim they hear somebody whistling while standing on that empty sidewalk before sunrise. Nobody can agree on the tune. Only that it sounds… familiar.
Jim says he stopped there one chilly October morning on his way to the Coffee Cup. Didn’t hear any whistling. Didn’t see anybody. But while he stood looking through the dusty front window… he noticed something leaning against the porch post. The Irish Blackthorn.
He smiled. Walked over. Reached for it. A pickup truck drove by. He waved. When he looked back… there wasn’t any walking stick there. Just Mr. Blackwelder’s old broom.
Maybe he’d mistaken one for the other.
Maybe.
Have You Seen the Stick?
Some folks remember The Irish Blackthorn beside the door at Blackwelder’s. Others insist it was only an old broom. Funny how memories differ.
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