Ol' Big Jim's Place

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty-Seven: Maybelline Becomes Dangerous The twenty-seventh evening found Hughes Street crowded enough that somebody had started directing parking. Nobody knew who had appointed him. He didn’t know either. But he was doing an excellent job. Uncle Toby emerged from the house carrying his sweet tea. The crowd applauded. Again. The old man looked toward…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty-Six: The Voice in the Scrapbook The twenty-sixth evening arrived beneath a sky crowded with stars. The Porch Club filled slowly. Quietly. The way folks gather when they know the story is approaching something important. Nobody talked much. Not at first. Even Earl seemed thoughtful. Which several people found concerning. Uncle Toby emerged…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty-Five: Clayton Reynolds Goes Home The twenty-fifth evening arrived quieter than the ones before it. Not because fewer people came. More came, actually. But folks spoke softer. Laughed less. Moved slower. Even before Uncle Toby stepped onto the porch, everybody knew what kind of night it was going to be. The old man emerged carrying his sweet tea.…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty-Four: Tommy Green Forgets The twenty-fourth evening arrived warm and still. The sort of summer night that settles over Piedmont like a blanket fresh from the clothesline. The Porch Club filled quickly. Nobody wanted to miss this one. Not after last night. Earl arrived carrying opinions. Beulah Mae arrived carrying suspicions. Pearl arrived…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty-Three: The Creek The twenty-third evening arrived beneath a sky so clear it looked freshly washed. The Porch Club had become a fixture of summer. People no longer asked where they were going after supper. They knew. They were coming to Hughes Street. Uncle Toby emerged carrying sweet tea. The crowd applauded. Again. The old man stopped. Looked…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty-Two: The Margin Note The twenty-second evening found Hughes Street packed. Not crowded. Packed. The distinction mattered. Crowded meant inconvenience. Packed meant success. Uncle Toby emerged from the house carrying sweet tea and looking entirely too pleased with hisself. The crowd noticed immediately. Pearl pointed. “He’s got that look.” “What…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty-One: The Wrong Newspaper The twenty-first evening arrived with enough people on Hughes Street to qualify as a municipal gathering. Someone had brought brownies. Someone had brought folding tables. Someone had brought a battery-powered bug zapper. The bug zapper was proving more popular than expected. Uncle Toby emerged onto the porch. Looked over…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Twenty: The Second Squirrel The twentieth evening arrived beneath a sky full of stars. The threat of rain had finally wandered off to bother somebody else. Hughes Street looked almost festive. Lanterns glowed. Folks chatted. Children chased lightning bugs near the sidewalk. The Porch Club had become its own little community. Uncle Toby emerged carrying…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Nineteen: The Promise The nineteenth evening found Hughes Street humming like a beehive. The Porch Club had become the worst-kept secret in Calhoun County. Folks arrived early. Folks arrived late. Folks arrived carrying folding chairs that appeared older than the state of Alabama. Uncle Toby emerged carrying sweet tea in his usual quart Mason jar. The…

An Uncle Toby McCarley Porch Story Night Eighteen: The First Scratch The eighteenth evening arrived with a thunderstorm threatening somewhere over on the other side of Dugger Mountain. The clouds never quite committed. They simply lingered. Like kinfolks after supper. The Porch Club had become so large that several folks were sitting on pickup tailgates parked along Hughes Street. Nobody seemed…