View Full Version : 'HAH NOON' (A Read & Tex Ritter Sing-a-Long)

10/3/2005, 10:18 AM

(Do Not Forsake Me...)

Macky's Hill, named for some long forgotten Tennessee snake oil salesman who had passed years ago through the Pretty Boy Floyd landscape of Oklahoma, always had that special allure.

(Oh, My Darlin'...)

And hearing the perennial stories of the accomplished legendary feats surrounding the many unofficial varsities that preceded us concerning Macky's Hill, made us frosh want to get into the big game right away.

(...Forsake Me...)

Times were tough, and without scholarship finances for equipment, other than the dimes and quarters earned by me and Newby Clodfelter for pushing a mechanical reel-type lawnmower in the summertime, we may never had had the opportunity to even try out.

(...My Darlin'...)

If Mrs. Collier hadn't paid us the fifty cents for mowing her, what seemed like 60 acres, me and Newby may never have gone downtown and serendipitously found the equipment we felt would be necessary to make a big play and an impression on the older, more experienced guys. In the alley behind the Oklahoma Tire and Supply Co., next to the trash & burn barrel, we found an old 26" Roadmaster bicycle. A real contender in its prime. But now, with no fenders or pedals, warped wheels and rotten tires with no inner tubes, it looked like a real loser. However, the springer fork was intact and lively, and it did have a seat. This discovery just might provide the chance tho, to one-up this year's braggarts of Mackey's Hill. The big play. Balance and poise, just like on our old tricycles.

(I Do Not Know What Fate Awaits Me...)

Much as with Team Lawnmower, we eventually both pushed the bike home after two separate cases of glandular mash while trying to do the one-push/one-ride maneuver. Our 18" inseam, a 26" Roadmaster. Booo-mer..

(I Only Know That I Must Be Brave...)

The Hill. When you come up at it from behind, it is an easy push. The breeze is sweet with the fragrance of alphalfa. A welcomed delight in that Newby always had an amalgam aroma of gym shoes, wet Collie, and Post Toasties. A glance over towards the South a bit and down some, you can see Deacon's Orcutt's place, where on Monday's you can see Mrs. Orcutt's and their daughter Euphrasia's white things hanging out on the wash line. Euphrasia is starting to have the necessary makin's for a top cheerleader, I think, just based on a feelin' of contact dermatitis occurin' within the confines of my Sunday School corduroys as I watch her sing 'Little Church in the Wildwood' up front with her Daddy.

(Waitin', waitin' long...)

When you peer down that precipice on the front side tho, there's sort of a steep drop off that runs about a good first and ten, then rises up in a hump resembling a hog sleepin' under a tarpaulin. From the top, you can't see what's beyond the hog hump, but reconnaissance has revealed another sharp drop of about 20 yards to a ditch that drains Frank Miller's drug store swamp cooler and soda fountain. Obviously, this is where it could get really tricky.

(Or Die a Coward, A Craven Coward...)

Alignment is especially important. A penalty here could be costly. To clear the sewage ditch, you've got to hit a slot between a Bois d'Arc tree and a pile of car hoods, onto a Norge refrigerator door laid across the gap, and into awaiting glory.

(If I'm a Man, I must Be Brave...)

Newby's older uncle, a front porch sit & whittler, told us that if we would get on that Roadmaster, go down that hill, cross the ditch and make it into the soft clover patch that awaited, then, we'd be in. To be in, is like, well, starting as a freshman on a big league team. We wanted to be in. For Euphrasia. For Captain Midnight. For Billy Vessels.

(And I Must Face That Deadly Killer...)

Newby's uncle said, "Ya don't need no tubes." "Hell, the goatheads would make 'em go flat right off." But he said he'd heard that if we'd take those old rotten tires, fill 'em completely full of fresh wheat kernels, put 'em back on th' rims, soak 'em in th' stock pond overnight, then lay 'em out in th' hot sun, they'd swell up big, full, and tight. (Oddly, I thought dreamily about Sunday School corduroys.) The fact that neither one of us could really ride a bicycle was just totally lost in the exciting, carnival-like atmosphere.

(...Or I'm a Coward... ...Or I'm a Coward...)

So, now that I think back to when I was sittin' up on The Hill at Hah Noon, astride the death sled Roadmaster with Newby up front, his feet jammed deep into the McAlester News Capital canvas delivery bag wrapped around the handlebars, back to all the good ol' boys proppin' us up and pushin' us to the very brink offering the last minute advisory, "I'd be real careful when ya hit that refrigerator door down there." "That consarned thing probably be a mite slick." I think I realized then, as gravity and an inclined imbalance took hold, the quickening breeze blowing Newby's wetness of inknown origin into my face, that Euphrasia was no Grace Kelly.

(...Or I'm a Coward...In My Grave...)

When we cross that Red River Saturday, when we get that first and ten and over that Hog Hump, when we're red ballin' that last 20 yards on freshly germinated wheels and hit that Norge door that's a damn bit slicker than we're used to, and a ditch that's grown a tad bit wider, hell, we've jumped that ditch fives in a row already. We know from experience where the beckoning, moist, sweet clover is.

And man, Euphrasia has filled out right nice over the last few years...

(...Waitin' long, waitin' long...)
(...Waitin' long, waitin' long...)



Norm In Norman
10/3/2005, 10:22 AM
First to respond to the OS post!

10/3/2005, 10:23 AM

10/3/2005, 10:38 AM
feelin' of contact dermatitis occurin' within the confines of my Sunday School corduroys :D Spek!

10/3/2005, 10:45 AM
WB, OS! Excellent post (as usual)!

10/3/2005, 10:52 AM
.....and now the rest of you know from whence the respect for the Legend springs.

WTG, Old one.

10/3/2005, 11:15 AM
Typical OLDSOONER post. Greatness.

David Earl
10/3/2005, 11:16 AM
The Old one can spin a yarn.

10/3/2005, 12:44 PM
The corduroy thing made me all sticky. Sticky!

10/3/2005, 05:08 PM
HE"S BACK!!!!!!!!

10/3/2005, 05:10 PM
and I might add looking as good as ever

10/3/2005, 06:40 PM
Oh ancient wise man, exalted oracle, unequaled scribe, you have my greatest respect for a great piece. I felt like a kid again, reading about your ride down Mackey hill with Newby. I hope you have more stores like that you'll share with us as the season goes along. Great piece. Please, write a book so I can buy it. RESPECT!!!

10/3/2005, 08:42 PM
I thought you were dead. Guess not. Unless of course this was done posssthuminousilly. In that case, God Bless You, that was ESPN Classic.

jkm, the stolen pifwafwi
10/3/2005, 09:50 PM
methinks OS and mosoon got lost in soonerfans suburbia and are stuck doing multiple drivebys...

Beano's Fourth Chin
10/3/2005, 11:09 PM

10/4/2005, 08:22 AM
Yeah, this thread needs more than 5 stars.

10/4/2005, 01:27 PM
Advice to all you young guns out there:

If you have a burning desire to get a degree in English/Creative Writing, unless you want to make teaching your career, DON'T!

Learn a trade and make lots of money.

Later in your career, in your spare time if you still have that burning desire to get involved in creative writing, just read OldSooner's posts.

And then realize what a waste 4 years of an English degree would have been, because as much as you would like to be able to write like that, you just can't.

You can thank me later.

10/5/2005, 04:35 AM
**** YEAH!

OKC Sooner
10/6/2005, 11:37 AM
I have read many good posts on this board, some of them truly awesome, but this is the first time I've seen clinically-pure crystalline eloquence. Many thanks, OS!

10/19/2005, 11:13 AM

10/19/2005, 11:29 AM
Wow. I can't do anything but sit in awe right nbow, even though I know the score.