Tommy Tucker and the Ice Cream Factory at Weeksbury KY

Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the East Wing.

Most every week I answer all the email I receive. Not the case last week, Just too much volume about those garage cats and the manner in which their population was reduced by 50%.

Lasts weeks email was much the same as any time I touch a nerve of my friend’s of the East Wing. About half say “BobbyRay, you made me cry with your story about the garage cats” and the other half say “why you *&^%$$))@#$%$-- why do you even write crappy stuff like that”? For those naysayers I’ve offered to remove their email address and in every case I’ve been told NO! Just write happy stuff, don’t write sad stuff.

Happy stuff is a reflection of life. Sad stuff is also a reflection of life. And so I write stuff.

The things which occurred inside my garage with a family of cats was truly nature in violence, according to we the people. But we as people always want to stamp our feeling, morals and human values into nature playing out in rhythm, and we can’t, no matter how much we may want to, we just can’t.

When I get such feelings that I want to influence the outcome of nature, I watch the wind. I can’t see the wind. I can only see the consequence of the wind. My South Window of the East Wing is full of the Maple Tree, I see the leaves moving in the wind, I don’t see the leader of the band, nor can I manage the outcome of the wind song. The music of the wind starts and stops beyond my control, as does everything else in nature, and well it should.

Watching the 2girl dogs and Sophia the Republican Cat adapt to the presence of an Angel is a story onto itself. I’ll tell that one sometime for sure. Oh by the way the official name of the baby white cat is Sara Angel James Howard. Lota name for a little cat, lota of cat for a little kitten. Her hard life started early.

Did ya know that all the really good stories in the whole world start out with “Once upon a time”? I’ve always searched for just the right time to put that line into a story. So far I’ve not found such a time, but will, and you’ll be the first to know.

When I lived at Weeksbury, a racially segregated community in Southeastern Kentucky, Weeksbury was a company town. All those who lived there worked for the company, shopped in the company story, went to the company theater and attended the company school system. The black people lived on one side of the town and the white people lived on the other side of town. I lived real close to where the two communities came together. There was a black school and a white school, a black church and a white church. That was just the way it was, it never seemed to be raciest it just seemed to be that way,,,, the way it was.

One of my best friends in the whole world was Tommy Tucker, he was black, I was white. I didn’t even know Tommy Tucker was black, he was just a friend of mine. I didn’t even know I was white, it didn’t matter, cause Tommy Tucker was a friend of mine. We played together most every day, me and Tommy Tucker. We walked to school together in the mornings but went into different buildings. We went to different churches, it didn’t matter, Tommy Tucker was a friend of mine. We sat in different seats in the theater. But that didn’t matter either, cause Tommy Tucker was a friend of mine.

Me and Tommy Tucker would walk down the streets of Weeksbury KY and people would get out of our way, they didn’t know how to deal with us, a little black boy and a little white boy walking side by side. We didn’t know we weren’t supposed do such things, so we just walked wherever we wanted to go. Me and Tommy Tucker sometimes even whistled as we walked. I couldn’t whistle very good, but Tommy Tucker sure could. Boy ! Tommy Tucker could make music just by whistling. I couldn’t even make music by singing.

Now my dad was the president of the Local United Mine Workers Union at Weeksbury KY, and as such had a small position of authority in the community. My dad spoke on behalf of the miners in Weeksbury, both black and white. When ya dig coal from inside a mountain, nobody cares who’s black or who’s white. My dad spoke for em all.

The reason I got away with such friendship with black people in a separated town in Southeastern Kentucky was my dad’s position within the community. Some white folks didn’t quite know how to take this little white boy walking around with this little black boy. Well me and Tommy Tucker sure didn’t know about all that stuff, about segregation and white people not associating with black people and all those such things, so we played….. I don’t think anybody had the courage to approach me dad on the issue of me playing with Tommy Tucker all the time.

I wish someone would’ve had the nerve to ask my dad bout me playing with Tommy Tucker all the time. The Civil Rights Movement would’ve started a lot earlier. Cause Tommy Tucker was friends with my dad too. I think my dad liked Tommy Tucker as much as I did, cause he sure acted like he did. My dad was the one who most of the time insisted that Tommy Tucker stay and eat supper before he went home for the night. Me and Tommy Tucker sat on the same side of the table when we ate supper. We ate supper together a lot. We drank milk.

Now Tommy Tucker’s Grandma, Miss Louise, made ice cream, homemade ice cream, and Miss Louise sold her ice cream to the little black kids in her neighborhood. Until one day a little white boy came to her neighborhood to play with Tommy Tucker. Miss Louise didn’t want to talk to me at first, she almost acted like she was afraid of me, not looking my way very much, and I didn’t know why.

Well, when Tommy Tucker told Miss Louise who my dad was, ya would’ve thought I was Tommy Tucker’s long lost brother, Miss Louise hugged me like my own grandma would hug me, only my grandma didn’t make ice cream like Miss Louise.

Miss Louise asked if we wanted ice cream, I told her I didn’t have any money. “Child, did I ask ya if ya had money? I asked if ya wanted some Ice Cream.” Said Miss Louise as she was walking over to the freezer where she kept her Ice Cream. I said “Miss Louise I want Ice Cream”.

“I got chocolate for little chocolate boys and vanilla for little vanilla boys, and I’m gona give you two one scoop of each, cause you two are a site,,, a site,,, oh Lordly such a joyful site” said Miss Louise as she scooped the Ice Cream onto those little tan ice-cream cones. Tommy Tucker’s cone had the vanilla on top, mine had the chocolate on top. I think Miss Louise stacked those Ice Creams Cones just like that on purpose.

When I went home that evening and told my mom and dad about Miss Louise, they weren’t surprised at all. It turned out they knew Miss Louise all the time. My dad said to make sure that I had a nickel every time I wanted Ice Cream form Miss Louise cause that’s the way she made money to live on after her husband was killed in a mine accident a some years back. My dad said he would give me a quarter a week so I could buy Ice Cream from Miss Louise. But I would have to share with my two older sisters, Sharlotte and Barbara. Which I did, each week they got one Ice Cream Cone and I got three. It worked well for us all, cause I needed more Ice Cream than they did, me being a growing boy and all.

Now me and Tommy Tucker went to Miss Louise’s a lot. Not only for Ice Cream, we went there cause Miss Louise was Tommy Tucker’s Grandma, and she was almost like my Grandma too. She hugged us both every time we came to see her. So we went and visited Miss Louise almost every day. She told us stories about stuff, lots of stuff. Miss Louise was born in Mississippi. I didn’t even know about Mississippi till I met Miss Louise, she was the first person I ever knew that was born in Mississippi. Miss Louise taught me and Tommy Tucker how to spell “MISSISSIPPI”. Miss Louise said she didn’t get to go to school much, but she sure taught me to Spell Mississippi. For a long time that was the biggest word I could spell.

One really neat thing that happened shortly after me and my sisters started using Miss Louise as our single source Ice Cream Supplier, soon other white kids started coming to Miss Louise’s house to buy her Ice Cream. And they came with nickels in hand. Why, it wasn’t too long and Miss Louise had to get a girl to help her keep up with her Ice Cream Business. With the making and selling and talking, Miss Louise loved to talk to everybody that came for Ice Cream, she just had to get help so she could keep talking and making Ice Cream.

I never saw Tommy Tucker or Miss Louise after I moved away from Weeksbury KY, but I remember them both with such fond memories. Along with Miss Louise’s “chocolate for little chocolate boys and vanilla for little vanilla boys”, as she scooped the Ice Cream for both us.

As always, we have enjoy your company so much this day and are forever grateful that you share some of your time with us.

As the evening shades of darkness embrace the East Wing this Summer Sunday, it don’t get much better than this. 2dogs, 1cat, 1wife, 1 Sara Angel are all asleep, and I too expect to join the sleep-in soon.

Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan

From the East Wing, remembering Tommy Tucker, Miss Louise and her Ice Cream Factory
I wish you well,
BobbyRay