Almost Heaven?

My parents were born and raised in West Virginia, so we often visited there when I was growing up. My dad’s parents lived on Twenty-Sixth Street in Huntington and his brother, my Uncle Leonard, lived with his family on the same street, just up the road a bit.

Though I loved seeing my grandparents, my favorite place to stay during our visits was at Uncle Leonard’s house where I could spend time with my cousins Frances, Johnny, and David. Frances and my sister Debbie were a bit older, so they tended to hang out in Frances’ room for girl talk. Pretty boring. I, on the other hand, felt right at home with the boys.

My memories are varied, but vivid. Having boy-cousins to pal around with was akin to having brothers, something I never experienced. Other than taking Sunday afternoon walks through the woods with my dad, I’d become acclimated to doing indoor girl stuff: cooking, sewing, and the like. It was great to get a new perspective.

Johnny liked to draw pictures of a guy in a lab coat with wild hair, a mad scientist who I took to be Johnny himself, a self-portrait. As smart as Johnny seemed, I fully expected him to make great scientific discoveries, though if he has, he’s never told me about it all these years later. Of course, we haven’t kept in touch too well, so anything is possible.

We liked to roam the big, rocky hills behind my cousins’ house, but always had to be wary. Most of the boulders were owned by a neighbor who didn’t like kids on his property and was apt to appear at any time, said the boys, with his shotgun. I don’t recall encountering him, but I was sure he lurked behind every rock. Did that make me feel bold and daring? You bet it did.

There was a yard a couple doors down littered with neglected apple trees. One time, the owner left a basket of rotten green apples in his yard. David rounded up firecrackers from somewhere and, sneaking into the yard after dark, we put one in each apple, lit it, and then threw the apple into the sky, trying to hit bats. It seemed like fun…until one of the dazed bats got tangled in my hair. That put a stop to it. No more good times with apples and flying creatures.

David and Johnny sometimes turned their garage into a haunted house with flashing, colored lights and things dangling from the ceiling. They would lead me through, eerie music playing, and since I was told to keep my eyes closed, I nearly jumped out of my skin every time something brushed across my face. They were scaring me to death, yet I counted on them to protect me. 

Ever heard of scrapple? It was some sort of meat Uncle Leonard made that we would fry up for breakfast. I had to Google it to learn its ingredients: fried pork scraps and trimmings combined with cornmeal or flour and spices. Hmmm. Doesn’t sound very appetizing, but it sure tasted good to the younger me.

I have memories of more than adventuring with John and Dave. There was the West Virginia State Museum located in the basement of the Capitol building in Charleston with the one and only exhibit I remember: the dressed fleas. Yes, you read that right. Dressed fleas. Remnants of some long-forgotten flea circus. The tiny insects had to be viewed through a microscope. I was amazed that someone was able to dress them in clothes, until I finally understood that the clothes had been painted on. Still….

And I can’t leave out Blenko Glass in Milton, West Virginia, a maker of hand-blown glass since 1893. My parents always delighted in seeing the craftsmen at work and took me often to watch. I’ve had a couple of their double-spouted pitchers for years and suspect I’ll acquire more of their artful pieces on my soon-to-come next visit.

I’m preparing now to relocate to West Virginia, something I never anticipated, but necessary if I want to stay close to my grandchildren who just moved there. Will I see those cousins I enjoyed so long ago? I’ll be in Charleston, about an hour’s drive from Huntington, close enough for visits. Cousins renewing acquaintances with cousins. Second cousins meeting second cousins (my children), and third cousins meeting third cousins (my grandchildren) for the first time.

It could be a confusing mess, but if I reconnect with my cousins, make new memories with my grandkids, and get to see those dressed fleas again….it’d be heavenly.