Oh What a Fourth

There is something about holidays that just bring out the most in a family. The most distant relatives, the most amazing food, the most adventurous spirits, the most spirits period, the most of everything. I would put the Mullins clan as a family up against any family for just being the most. Not only are we individually insane in our own right, but mixed with all the activities surrounding the 4th of July on a family plot in Spencer, TN the gathering turned out to be one for the books and probably the most iconic family film that outdid any I had ever seen on AFV during prime time.

It wasn't unusual for the Mullins clan to gather. We did every single year, twice a year on Memorial Weekend, back when we used to celebrate for 4 days on the top of Paradise Mountain. Upwards of 150 backwoods characters would venture back to their roots in a holler deep in Appalachia. There, I remember us catching turtles, my first ride in an ATV to collect spring water in an old blue rain barrel, shooting into the dirt mound off the back of the wrap-around porch with the old men, and mostly doing absolutely anything to get Elsie riled up. Out of all of my Moms 37 first cousins, Elsie was by far the favorite. She was the loudest and most carefree. She was the one with the fastest wit, joyous laugh, and no care to embarrass herself or any of the family if the opportunity arose. She also happened to be highly competitive and full of really bad ideas. There will no doubt be several other stories about Elsie, but this particular holiday was special because it was the second holiday in a short time that we also gathered as an extensive family, and this particular, for no other reason other than Elsie offered, we were celebrating Independence Day at Scotty & Elsie's house.

I don't remember ever going to Middle Tennessee before this trip, and after this day, that location on a map had such a special meaning. What I didn't know is that this place could become something so much more to me now. The memories that have taken place in his small pocket of my world are some I hold the most dear. The drive from London to Spencer was long and curvy. I was probably right at 8 at the time, and Jeremy had never been on a drive quite like that before. I vaguely remember Mom and Dad talking about the weekend's events and speculating on who of the boys would blow their hand off first or how many acres of corn we were bound to catch fire to after Scotty had a few in the back 40. I didn't know what they were talking about back then, but Scotty was like the rest of them on that side of the family; he enjoyed 140-proof clear shine. About 4 months after this holiday, they would find Scotty in his spot deep in the woods past the last cornfield on the property. He would overturn his 4-wheeler on his way back from his steel, with a half gallon of new shine registering in his system. This would be the last function we would have him there. The last of this kind is in middle Tennessee, but I think the ending of this story also tells of why.

The first sign to me that we were in the right place was the long gravel drive with half standing fence rows on both sides. Corn was probably 6 feet high standing on the right side of the road with a single tractor lane straight down the middle. I had never seen a field laid out like that before. At the bend between the fields we could see the open black barn, who had long sense had it's front doors repurposed for some prop for the infamous haunted forest the McDaniel clan put on in that area, and the loft window right above the opening had none other than lil Anthony hanging out the top, holding a squirrel by the tail. Inside the barn, which was the first place I ran when the car stopped, there was an old John Deere tractor that had all the familiar cousins piled on top, like the bottom limb of an oak tree that towered in the front yard along with all of the current foster kids that were placed with every aunt in the family that summer. Up I hopped to join in, standing toe to toe with my first real best friend, my cousin Polly. Polly was Elsie's youngest and the closest to my age. We looked alike, talked alike, and were inseparable during all family functions. Just like our momma's, we were determined to be the firecrackers of our generation.

It grew dark and I remember saying goodbye to Mom and Dad knowing that they would be back the next day. I watched as the sun went down over that cornfield and somehow turned around to a quiet piece of farmland, an old barn I had spent most of my day in, a tiny single-story house with two steps leading onto the porch and inside, and then a tent which had magically appeared under the towering oak tree. The tent was dark green and was flickering with what seemed like 16 flashlights moving and shaking. Inside the house, we dressed for bed, and I remember Polly arguing with her mom to snuggle her one last time, begging her to let her sleep in the house for fear the boys would prank us in the middle of the night. As she continued to argue with her momma I recall the only words I'm convinced Scotty ever spoke, "Polly, Ge'che ass outta my house! Now youda been talkin' bout this here nite long past Ima tired of hearin' it. If they gitche it'll be one less bitchin' I'll haveta listen to." and at that the house fell silent, Polly tucked her tail, kissed her Pa on the cheek as he still sat in his emerald green recliner shirtless, and out to the tent we went.

The tent may have been a 4 person tent with blankets and pillows scattered over the tarp that acted as the bottom. Someone had hung a battery fan in the top right, attached to the etnt pole with a single zip tie. The fan was not helping. It was beyond hot in that crowded space even with the front door and all the zip windows down in hopes to catching a cross breeze. As I followed Polly in, I stooped at the door, trying to figure how in the world we were going to do this. Inside was already my cousins Lil Anthony, Tony, Amber, Polly, and a slew of current fosters, Keisha, Keirra, Nicole, and one more tall blonde that wasn't around long enough to even attempt to catch her name. The McDaniel clan all fostered. My Nan's sister Quinita, and her daughters Elsie, Ruby Gale, and DeWayne's wife Mildred, also known as Milly. They specialized in the rough ones. Runaways, teens expecting at 14, those about to age out of the program, anyone with a drug problem, and always girls. They were the literal last hope for these girls. When everyone else said no, they said yes. Partly for the money, partly because they were a rough enough bunch in their own right that they could handle pretty much anyone. The last girl Elsie fostered came with a newborn baby. She was 15, and she was my ideal image of beautiful. She was everything I was not - tall, lean, long blonde hair, freckles, perfect music fingers gracing her hands, and eyes that captivated everyone. She made it about 6 months with Elsie before running away with her baby daddy and leaving her child in the middle of the night. Kara, was the only baby Elsie ever cared for, and when she turned 3 was officially adopted into the family. She was the last foster that the family had. What type of symbolic completion is that?

The boys were the entertainers of the group. Once we all settled into a circle around the inside, each older cousin was given a flashlight out of the pile in the middle. We spent all night listening to ghost stories. The guys would need to "go to the barn" for a supply or match or in search for another fan just to stalk the outside of the tent until the perfect line in the story being told inside would arise and a jump "BOO!" through one of the open side windows would have everyone bumping heads and kicking thighs trying to escape the tiny space we all inhabited. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced and something I would give my left arm to experience again. You see, during all family functions, we had witnessed the adult men round up all the kids around the campfire and tell stories for hours. The women, after they had cleaned up the kitchen and prepped for the next day, bathed all the really littles, and prepared the beds all over the house and property, would sit in chairs, gliders, swings, and on top of 5-gallon buckets on the wrap around porch and look over the balcony to the single flat space on the property at all the cousins around a fire and men yelling, chanting, hiding behind tents, trees, and at the base of old embankments for the perfect spook moment. Tonight it was time for the next generation to practice, and I was witness to it. I don't think we slept at all that night. By the end everyone had laughed until their sides hurt. Only one person had been punched in the chest by accident, and 2 of the girls had peed all over themselves. That is still the night we all talk about whenever we are together. The day though, was not ours to conquer.

Kids were meant to be seen and not heard, except in exceptionally large family gatherings like this. Upwards of 80 people gathered on a plot in the middle of nowhere, with lots of room to run and no excuse not to be entertained by someone. These were the times when kids were not to be seen but heard, meaning Go, Run, Play, Explore, and make sure I can yell and get a response from someone you are still alive. We had the freedom, as long as we were together, to do whatever we wanted, with limited to no supervision. There were only 2 rules: always have a friend, and never, and I mean never, interrupt a grown-up game. The adults in my family, when you got them all together were no longer adults, they were just big kids. I am convinced the reason why I believe I am as carefree and open to adventure even as an adult is because I saw my Mom and her cousins, always with Elsie in the middle of them, play together. What is even greater was the ability for them to rile up their parents, my Nan's generation, to also get invested in whatever they had on deck to play. Before the sun went down, crochet was always us. Balls would be flying across the yard, taking out anyone who dared walk through the half-acre it consumed. Clubs would be slinging as I would watch grown women run - historically - chasing someone around the yard. It never failed; someone (usually my mom or my Nan) would end up needing to change her drawers from laughing so hard. The game lasted half a day sometimes, and never were kids allowed to play. Once it got too late to see any of the balls, they would move inside and play Rook. The first time I remember staying up until midnight was because they were in the middle of a very serious Rook game, and we could not leave until Mom and Elsie won.

This set-up was different. At Elsie's house, what can most reasonably be described as the front yard, there was a decent chunk of open space that was filled with folding tables, surrounded by lawn chairs; off in the distance to the left by the gravel drive was crochet, and across the yard on the other side of the house from everything else was another single tree with a tire swing and a trampoline. At this point in the day, lunch had already been eaten, and it was time for the guys to start prepping and gathering (and drinking) for the fireworks to launch in a few hours when it became dusk. As the guys were gassing up to head to the back of the field, the women started their usual games while the rest of us kids jumped on the trampoline in age groups so no one broke another arm. I had never jumped on a trampoline before that day. We rotated from running between corn stalks, treeing squirrels and cats, or rather watching the boys do that, defying gravity with that old tire swing to see if we could loop it on the branch with someone in it, and then jumping on the giant trampoline. Always close enough to respond to a yell, but with full freedom. That was until we heard the hollers of Elsie, followed by the threats of my Nan heading our way. Heading straight for the trampoline.

Apparently, the crochet game that had started about two hours before had not ended well. My Nan and her sisters Geraldine and Quinta (Elsie's mom) had all ganged up on their daughters, determined to show them who was boss. Elsie is a sore loser. Between her, my Mom, and her sister Ruby Gail, they were out for revenge and determined to make them relent by daring them to do something they never stood a chance at: get on the trampoline. Elsie and Ruby Gail had taunted the old women that they wouldn't get on the giant circle death trap for fear of breaking a hip, so no matter how lucky they got at "old people games" they didn't have it in them to do anything else. But boy were they wrong. One thing you will never convince the fiercely independent, stubborn women in my family is they can't do anything. Most likely, that will get you a look and a stern, "Bull shit.", followed by whatever action you doubted they couldn't do. The women in my Nan's generation were raised hard. They were all miner's daughters, all farmers, all from a holler. They were the ones to drop out of school in order to keep the house and help keep the family plot going. They married the first men who showed interest and met at either church, side work, or if they happened to stumble into the holler. They all married rough men, all except Geneva, who was the only one with real sense. My Nan was the only one who refused to live with the consequences of her actions for the rest of her life. My Nan was stubborn but was also clever enough to know what her worth was and held her standard. She was the only one in her generation to get a divorce and raise my mom alone. She was right to do it, but that also meant she did whatever she thought she was capable of doing, and even if she didn't think she was, she would literally take herself out trying. I think that's where I get my streaks from. I'm like her.

Elsie was leading the pack of women now, and as she walked our way, she was yelling at whoever would listen for us kids, "Get off that trampoline! Where about to show these old grandmas that they aren't as young as they think! Get Off! The grown-ups are coming to play now!" She was mad, but she was also cackling to herself as if she already knew how horribly wrong this was about to go. Meanwhile, as Elsie scattered the 20-ish of us still hanging around to watch the events unfold, Nan was rounding up anyone over the age of 50 to get on "that stupid jumping thing" with her. My Nan is persuasive, and by the time she made it to the base of that tree, she had gathered up all her sisters that were present except for Geneva. Geneva sat in her chair, calm, shaking her head in disbelief. My Nan's sisters and my aunts are just like her, and they were determined to make Elsie and Ruby Gail eat their words. It was past the point of no return, but my Nan was not about to be cheated because Elsie doesn't play fair.

Nan started, "Now before we get on this dang thing, we gotta talk about the rules!"

Elsie: "Now, Aunt Marthie, we ain't got no rules! Just jump until you can't stay on your own feet, which we know won't be past the first jump, and after your ass hits the bottom and you're down, you get off!" In an instant Nan asked, "And what if I just push you off, will you stay there?!"

Shocked by the insult at a woman twice her age and half her size, Elsie responded, "Alright, Aunt Marthie, if you can get my ass off, I'll stay off! But you're liable to get slung off with me!"

"Hush your mouth, Elsie, and help me get on this thing."

Us kids were completely silent. What on earth have we just witnessed?! What were we about to see?! Do we pick sides? It turns out the next order of events would happen so fast that there wasn't much time to process anything.

Up Nan went, followed by Ruby Gale, then Geraldine, Nettie Sue (the youngest of Nan's 12 siblings), my Mom, Heather Renee, Quinita, and last but not least, Elsie. Seven grown women ranging from almost 60 to early 30s on a single trampoline. They agreed they needed to get some practice since not a single one of the older women had ever jumped before, and it didn't take long for all of them to start laughing. When I mean they were laughing, they were rolling way more than they were jumping. They were yelling anytime they could catch a breath, "Hold On Now!", "STOP!", "I'm Too Old for This!", "HELP!", "Quit, so I can get up!". I watched in awe as the chaos continued, until it got serious. By nothing other than sheer luck the jumping stopped. Everyone was on their hands and knees crawling back to the outer ring where every spring was exposed, except Elsie and Ruby Gale. This should have been the final sign from the heavens to eat their pride and concede, but not a single Mullins daughter was going to. "Alright ladies, get up if you're brave enough!" In very slow motion, everyone else got up. The world was still for all but 3 seconds before Elsie began to start an overview of the rules again until she got interrupted by Nan, "Elsie just hush and let us focus!" The switch flipped in her eyes. War was about to start for that rude comment.

On the count of 3 Elsie and Ruby started. But like all good calculated revenge schemes, they offset their small bounces by half a second. Distant enough in time that you couldn't jump at any consistent rhythm without coming down in an offbeat of any count you were following in your head. My Mom went down first, then Geraldine, who attempted to bounce back, literally, into the game. And like any good game of pinball or dominoes, every action caused another equally hilarious reaction from a knee buckle, tuck, and roll, or an armadillo pose in the epicenter just waiting for the moment to attempt to stand back up. These women were a mess. Everyone was laughing, yelling, cursing, threatening, swirling their arms as if the louder and more flamboyant their movements, the higher their odds of not plummeting into the middle of the giant death trap. It did not help. It may have been a minute and a half and all those, "rules" were gone out the window. This was now a game of life and death, pure stubbornness, and refusal to concede, but then they got angry.

Nan was yelling over everyone, directing which sister needed to go where as she made a run straight for Elsie to her right. She was making good strides when Ruby did a back-to-back quick bounce, throwing Nan off her rhythm, but taking down Geradline in the process. Both women flew forward straight into the middle, and on the upward movement, Geraldine picked up her left knee. At about the same time, Nan lost her balance and pitched forward straight into Geradline's knee. There was a bloody squeak, and Nan was now down, lying in the middle of the trampoline, holding her mouth as Geraldine noticed her knee. Nan was an avid smoker, just like the rest of the Mullin clan, and had struggled with oral health for years. That bounce was enough for her to lose her front right tooth in Geradline's kneecap. In a panic, Netty Sue came down to Nan's side. There was a crack loud enough for us to hear it on the solid ground, and more rough and tumbles continued. Netty Sue was crawling to get off; Ruby Gale had already started to head toward the barn to avoid any immediate repercussions, and Elsie was silent. Mom was oblivious to anything that had just happened and ended up laughing so hard she had peed all over herself. In the middle, Geraldine, Quinta, and Nan were gripping each other's clothes, pulling each other's shorts down, trying to leverage getting up; Nan's mouth was still bleeding, and the trampoline was still bouncing enough for these ladies to stand no chance. Another bounce and Nan went forward again, this time face first onto the harsh black surface.

It took another minute for them to each crawl on all fours and get off. The first few steps on the unwavering ground caused Quinta, Netty Sue and Nan to tumble. The rest of the family had already started to prep for the aftermath. On the first fold-out table that used to hold chips, coleslaw, and other staples now sat a medicine basket, a frozen bag of peas, and a single glass half full of milk. To the right of the table sat Geneva, laughing, holding the only video camera I had ever seen. She had caught it all. After a trip to the nearest Urgent Care, Nan was told that the teeth she had lost were a lost cause. That crack we heard had been one of her ribs, and there was also nothing they could do about that other than give her an ice pack, and refer her to her dentist when they opened back up on Monday.

Nan ended up losing 7 teeth as a result of that incident. The impact she took and the lack of gum support have left her with two partial dentures. Geraldine ended up popping a hip out of place after noticing the tooth in her knee and trying to configure her legs to see it, hold her balance, and pull it out. The bouncing sitting Indian style really did it in. She was approved for a hip replacement shortly after. Netty Sue, after taking the tumble on the ground, swore that the fall had done something to her foot (I think it was a result of her husband Larry, but you'll never be able to convince her that we don't all know). Quinita found both Elsie and Ruby Gale and switched their backsides behind the barn to embarrass her that way. No one, not even Lil Anthony touched that trampoline the rest of the day.

The evening was almost picturesque compared to the events of the afternoon. The men lit up the night sky with fireworks that I felt you could see for miles through the fields. The evening fell silent, and that's all I remember from the last trip to Middle Tennessee before we went back for Scotty's funeral later that year. This was the only family film I remember ever seeing. It was the basis for all inside jokes in our family. It was the start of a long and interesting war between Nan and Elsie, always for fun but always calculated. It is these family gatherings that made me realize not everyone has stories like mine. These holidays are some of the most powerful memories I have, and they are part of the simple life I miss.