The Summer the Squirrel Disappeared

Posted on 2026-07-16 by Ol' Big Jim

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story

Night Sixteen: The First Golden Squirrel Banquet

The sixteenth evening arrived cooler than the ones before it. A hint of autumn lingered in the air. Not enough to matter. Just enough to notice. The Porch Club filled quickly. The front yard was nearly full before Uncle Toby even appeared. Several late arrivals found themselves standing. Nobody complained. The story had reached that stage.

At precisely seven-thirty, the screen door opened. The crowd applauded. Again. Toby stopped. Looked at them. And shook his head.

“If y’all keep doin’ that, I’m liable to start thinkin’ too highly of myself.”

“Too late,” Pearl replied.

The crowd laughed. The old man lowered himself into the peacock chair. Took a sip of sweet tea and nodded.

“All right, the banquet.” The crowd leaned forward.

⁂

October, 1948.

The fellowship hall of the Congregational Holiness Church glowed with light. Tables stretched from one end of the room to the other. White tablecloths covered every surface. Ladies hurried back and forth carrying dishes. The aroma of fried chicken drifted through the building. The chicken faction had won.

⁂

Back on Hughes Street, Earl raised both hands triumphantly.

“Justice.”

“No,” Pearl replied. “Grease.”

The old man smiled and continued. The entire town seemed to have attended. Business owners. Teachers. Preachers. Farmers. Students. Folks who had donated money. Folks who hadn’t. Folks who simply enjoyed free food.

Near the front sat Sam Mickelsen. Beside him sat his wife. Across the room sat Clayton Reynolds and young Maybelline.

And on a table near the stage rested the first Golden Squirrel. The crowd stared at it. People whispered. Pointed. Discussed. Debated. Because no matter how many times they looked at it… The squirrel still appeared mildly annoyed. The laughter on Hughes Street could probably be heard three blocks away.

⁂

In 1948, the banquet finally started. The mayor delivered a speech. A long speech. An exceptionally long speech. Young Toby later estimated it lasted somewhere between forty minutes and the end of civilization. The crowd applauded politely. Mostly because it had finally ended. Then came the newspaper editor. Then the preacher. Then the coach. By the time the award presentation arrived, half the audience was thinking about dessert.

At last, the mayor approached the podium. The squirrel sat gleaming beside him. “Ladies and gentlemen…” The room quieted. “It is my honor to present the first Piedmont Golden Squirrel Award.” Applause filled the room. Young Maybelline sat perfectly still. Watching. Listening. Remembering.

The mayor spoke about service. Community. Generosity. Dedication. All the things people say during ceremonies. Then he called Sam Mickelsen forward. The room erupted. Applause. Cheers. Whistles. Sam looked embarrassed. Exactly as before.

He accepted the squirrel. Shook hands. Smiled. Nodded. Then the mayor asked if he’d like to say a few words.

⁂

Back on Hughes Street, Toby smiled. A knowing smile.

“Oh, Lord.”

“What?” asked Earl.

“That’s where things got interesting.” The crowd instantly leaned forward.

⁂

In 1948, Sam approached the podium. Adjusted the microphone. Looked out across the room. Then said: “I appreciate this award, but I don’t think it belongs to me.” The fellowship hall went silent. Not quiet. Silent. The kind of silence that makes people forget how breathing works.

Young Toby blinked. The mayor blinked. The preacher blinked. Even Horace Blalock blinked. Sam rested one hand on the walnut base. The squirrel glared at everyone. As usual. Then Sam continued:

“If we’re honorin’ the person responsible for those football uniforms… then we’re honorin’ the wrong man.” The room froze. Across the hall, young Maybelline stared at her father. Clayton stared at the floor. And seventy-eight years later, Uncle Toby could still remember exactly how the room felt in that moment.

The old man slowly stood. The crowd exploded.

“No.”

“Tobe.”

“You can’t stop there.”

The grin returned. The dangerous one. The one who had built the Porch Club. At the screen door, he paused. Turned, and said:

“Tomorrow night, Sam Mickelsen commits the most controversial act in Golden Squirrel history.”

The screen door slammed. And the entire Porch Club immediately began arguing about what that could possibly mean.

⁂

About Ol' Big Jim

Jim L. Wright is a storyteller with a lifetime of experiences as colorful as the characters he creates. Born and raised in Piedmont, Alabama, Jim’s connection to the land, history, and people of the region runs deep. His debut novel New Yesterdays is set in his hometown, where he grew up listening to stories of the past—stories that sparked his imagination and curiosity for history. Today, Jim lives in Leeds, Alabama, with his husband Zeek, a tour operator who shares his passion for adventure and discovery. Known affectionately as “Ol’ Big Jim,” he has had a diverse career that includes time as a storekeeper, an embalmer, a hospital orderly, and a medical coder. There are even whispers—unconfirmed, of course—that he once played piano in a house of ill repute. No matter the job, one thing has remained constant: Jim is a teller of tales. His stories—sometimes humorous, sometimes thought-provoking—are often inspired by his unique life experiences. Many of these tales can be found on his popular blog, Ol’ Big Jim, where he continues to share his musings with a loyal readership. Jim’s adventures have taken him far beyond Alabama. For seven years, he lived in Amman, Jordan, the world’s oldest continuously inhabited city. His time there, spent in smoky coffee shops, enjoying a hookah and a cup of tea while scribbling in his ever-present notebook, deeply influenced his worldview and his writing. When Jim isn’t writing, he’s thinking about writing. His stories, whether tall tales from his past or imaginative reimagining is of historical events should read from his past or imaginative reimaginings of historical events, reflect a life lived fully and authentically. With New Yesterdays, Jim brings readers a rich tapestry of history, fantasy, and human connection. Visit his blog at www.olbigjim.com to read more of his stories, or follow him on social media to keep up with his latest musings and projects, one of which is a series that follows Bonita McCauley, an amateur detective who gets into some very sticky situations. His book, New Yesterdays, can be found at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble.

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