A Piedmont Lantern Story

There are some boys born into this world with a natural talent for mischief, and Jim Leroy Cartwright was one of ’em. Jimmy Matthew, his partner in crime, was the other half of that particular calamity. The two of ’em together were about as safe as a lit match in a powder shed, and just about as predictable.

Jim Leroy’s mother, however, was a woman of firm principles and a mighty steady hand when it came to discipline. She believed, with a conviction that could’ve moved mountains, that a boy left uncorrected would surely grow into a full-blown heathen. And she took a certain determined satisfaction in preventin’ that outcome, one whuppin’ at a time.

Now, behind their place there runs a little creek, twistin’ through the woods like it had no particular place to be. It weren’t much to look at, truth be told, but to a pair of boys in the full heat of summer, it might as well have been the Mighty Mississippi itself.

Jim Leroy had been told, plain, clear, and with no room for interpretation, that he was not to go swimmin’ in that creek. Not today, not tomorrow, and not if the Lord Hisself came down and invited him.

So naturally, on this particular afternoon, him and Jimmy Matthew went skinny dippin’ in it. It was a secret, almost daily ritual, truth to tell.

The water was cool, the day was hot, and for a stretch of time, they lived like kings. That is, until they climbed out and lay themselves down in the sun to dry, only to discover that the creek had gifted ’em a fine collection of leeches.

There commenced a session of pickin’ and hollerin’ and laughin’ and carryin’ on, each boy inspectin’ the other like a pair of surgeons with very poor bedside manners. They got most of ’em, too, or near enough to satisfy their judgment, which wasn’t all that particular.

What neither of ’em noticed was one stubborn leech, settled in just behind Jim Leroy’s ear, tucked up out of sight like it had leased the place.

Jim got no more than five steps into the house before his mother’s shrill voice struck him like a thunderclap.

“Stop right there, boy!”

He stopped.

“What in the name of heaven is that on your neck?”

Jim reached up uncertainly, and she didn’t wait for an answer.

“Why, it’s a leech! You’ve been in that creek again, ain’t you?”

Now there wasn’t no use denyin’ it. The evidence was hangin’ there plain as day.

“Well, you just turn yourself around and march right back outside. You sit on that front porch till your daddy gets home, and he’s gonna beat the everlastin’ hell outta you!”

Jim Leroy did as he was told. There’s a kind of obedience that comes from knowin’ resistance will only make matters worse, and he had mastered it early.

He took his seat on the porch and settled in for what he believed might be the final peaceful moments of his young life.

Time stretched itself thin. The world got quiet. And then, off in the distance, came the low, growlin’ rumble of his daddy’s pickup truck crestin’ the hill.

Jim started to whimper.

By the time that truck rolled into the yard, he had worked himself into a full-throated proper wail, the kind that comes from anticipatin’ a future that ain’t got a single redeeming feature in it.

His daddy climbed the steps slow and steady, paused, and looked down at the boy with a kind of puzzled interest.

“Son,” he said, “what’re you cryin’ about?”

Jim snuffled, hiccoughed, and managed, “Cause you’re gonna whup me.”

Now that seemed to interest his daddy even more.

“Why would I be whuppin’ you?”

Jim drew in a shaky breath. “’Cause… I went swimmin’… and got leeches on me.”

And he commenced to cry again, softer this time, like he was rehearsin’ for the inevitable.

His daddy stood there a moment, considerin’ this. A gentle smile played at the corners of his eyes.

Then he said, plain as day, “Boy, if you want to go swimmin’, then dammit, go swimmin’. Now get off this porch and go play.”

Jim Leroy didn’t wait for that instruction to be repeated. He lit off that porch like he’d been launched from a cannon, leavin’ sorrow, dread, and leeches behind him in one glorious burst.

He hadn’t got far before his mother’s voice rose up behind him again, this time directed square at his father, and carryin’ enough force to rattle the porch boards. Daddy’s throaty laughter attempted to stifle her shrieks.

And Jim Leroy, free as the wind and twice as fast, reckoned that whatever storm was brewin’ back there, it had surely missed him by a country mile.

And that, as far as he was concerned, made the day one of the finest he ever lived.