"Paw Paw Hancock always said, "Peanut, you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself".

One time, when I was around twelve or so, Paw Paw Hancock and I were sitting on the screened in front porch at the farm house down in Gay, Georgia. He had just finished a long day's work tending to his garden, feeding the cows, and bush hogging the fields with the old 1977 Ford tractor. I was sunburned from helping grandma mow all the grass and rake all the magnolia leaves with aunt Elizabeth. So after those chores were finished, Paw Paw and I both sat there quietly in the shade of that porch and two giant magnolia trees. I was thoroughly enjoying an ice cold glass of southern sweet tea that my aunt Elizabeth had brewed up earlier that morning. Paw Paw was having a Marlboro cigarette.


He and I began talking about the farm, the work we still needed to get done, and eventually, as always, the topic rested on my two aunts. One of them, my aunt Elizabeth Cole, lived there in the farm house all by herself. Like my grandmother, and the eight other siblings, Elizabeth was born in that farm house and had lived on that farm her whole life. Elizabeth just lived a quiet and peaceful life there in that farm house in a small Georgia town with just a few hundred inhabitants.

So, my uncle John, who we all affectionately called Uncle Buck because of his avid deer hunting skills, left one of his dogs there with Elizabeth. The dogs name was Rebel. This dog was a mongrel looking mutt and had little or no practical use at all except to be an early warning system of sorts. It did, however, have a very loud and mean sounding bark so we were always alerted to the arrival of approaching company or unexpected visitors. I also remember Rebel missing about one third of his brownish orange coat because of the mange or something like that.

Anyway, for some reason, people in my family referred to aunt Elizabeth as "Duke". I had always heard that her older brother Roland gave her that nickname many years before I was born. I never knew why but the name stuck. Besides it sure was a lot easier to say than Elizabeth. Duke was a very quiet person and even at family events she barely spoke. She might have laughed a few times though.

So, as was their custom,  my grandmother and grandfather always went down to the farm every Saturday to take care of the farm and to look after her youngest sister called Duke.This is something they had done consistently since 1978. Grandma would always make sure Duke had groceries and she would sometimes take her to a salon in near bye Woodbury when Duke needed a hair cut.

So, I began to relate to my grandpa that I would find living in that house all alone to be quite scary. Especially at night when the silence could literally be felt pressing in on ones ear drums. Down on the farm, and especially at night, sounds could be heard for long distances. Some of those sounds could not be immediately identified by a young pre-teenage boy like I was then. I would hear some of those sounds coming from way out in the fields or the woods and my highly creative imagination would run wild.

Anyhow, as the conversation progressed with Paw Paw, I began to tell him of some of the pranks and practical jokes I would play on Duke when I would come to visit. I told my grandpa how intrigued I was by the fact that nothing I did ever seemed to phase Duke one bit. She seemed, at times, to even be vaguely amused by my antics. I reiterated this point when Paw Paw and I were resting there on the screened in front porch. He just quietly turned to me and said, "Peanut, (which is what he called me) you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself."

The old man spoke true words of wisdom. Unfortunately, I didn't see it that way then. I just thought what he said was funny. And with a slight chuckle and a swig of sweet tea I forgot all about it. That was indeed a big mistake.

You see, I was down there during my grandparents visit because my mom had dropped me off for the week. This old farm, especially during my turbulent years as a teen, was a place of refuge and solitude. It was a place where I could escape the anxiety and depression that haunted me most of my life. To me this farm was a giant time capsule remaining almost totally unchanged since at least the 1950's. There was so much to do here and to see; to explore and discover. Of course this annoyed my grandmother who rightfully accused me of rambling.

Still, after many years, old farm equipment remained in some of the old barns. My great grandfather's old 1948 Ford pickup truck still sat under the shed in the mule barn. In front of it sat an old machine that used to bail hay. The only time I ever saw these things in any useful capacity was in some old rediscovered family home movies shot during the 1950's. My mom and all her siblings were in these movies but they were all little kids.

However, all those wonderful opportunities for discovery and exploration came to a halt when the sun went down. When that happened, only a few lights remained on in the house and the dull roar of an old analogue television set with rabbit ears antennae could be heard with the back drop of the smell of Marlboro cigarettes.

 Oh yes, my aunt Duke and I also found this to be a perfect opportunity to sit out on the front porch and listen to the crickets and the frogs. Occasionally we would hear the low roar of a cow mooing out in one of the fields. Again, I would be sitting there on that old rickety, rusty steel chair in my little bathrobe, swigging away at her sweet tea while Duke would be quietly enjoying a Marlboro cigarette.

So I remember one night in particular, and just an evening or two after my grandparents had gone back to their farm about 25 miles away, I was seized with a diabolical idea. Imagine that. I quietly stood up and made sure my little bathrobe was wrapped snugly around my chunky little waist. And with that I said rather nonchalantly, "Hey Duke, I'm going to go get some more sweet tea".

She just slowly took a relaxed drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke up into the air. Duke then just looked at me and slightly nodded. I then opened the screen door and walked into the foyer area. I walked straight back towards the kitchen but then headed for the tiny washroom near the back door. I quietly opened the back door to the back yard and made my way down the large cement steps that someone had painted green.

It was definitely night time and it was so dark here in the back yard that someone had a lone tiny street light mounted on a telephone pole opposite the tiny little path that ran beside the side of the house. I could see all kinds of little insects buzzing around in this light like a tiny swarm of angry bee's ready to attack. I could also feel that the grass had accumulated a significant amount of dew now. So, I quietly made my way down the side of the house, towards the front porch area, just out of reach of the small light hovering overhead.

I had almost made it to the front yard area where the century old magnolia tree's stood when I peered cautiously around the corner. There she was. There sat Aunt Duke all by herself on that porch quietly enjoying her cigarette. All I could hear were the crickets to my left and the dull roar of the old television from the large window just above me.

Now was my chance. I was going to top myself this time. This was going to be the best stunt I had ever pulled. I slightly grinned and pulled my bathrobe over my head. I began to slowly take steps towards the side of the front porch where Duke sat and when I got close enough I was going to make a roaring sound. I moved closer and closer. Then, right when I was close enough..........

Raaaarrrrrr!!! Wooof, wooof, woooof! Grooowwwll!1 RRRIIIPPP.

I suddenly jumped in fright and screamed in the process. All I could hear was the sound of an angry dog growling and barking and me, in my pre-adolescent voice, yelling and hollering in a shrill tone that sounded a lot like a girl I'm sure. I could remember feeling something tugging and pulling at the back of my bathrobe with quite a bit of force and even the sound of tearing fabric could be heard.

It was that stupid dog Rebel! I totally forgot about him lurking about at night. Rebel obviously thought I was some kind of intruder and, acting as an early warning system as usual, he grabbed my bathrobe with his teeth and began pulling and tearing; furiously growling and barking the whole time.

Now, playing a prank on ole' Duke was the least of my worries. I was terrified! I was dancing all over that lawn, by this time half undressed with my fruit of the looms exposed to the stars, under that small street light screaming, "Rebel no!! It's me Rebel! It's me! No! Noooooo!!!!!!

I must have resembled Gilligan, on Gilligan's Island, dancing around with his pants on fire just before he would jump into the lagoon and swim away.

I can only imagine how that sounded far off. Other people sat on their porches around there too and to them that whole incident may have sounded like a little girl getting mauled to death by a German Shepherd.
It was horrible.  This was NOT part of the plan!

In an attempt to spare myself from the sheer emotional trauma of this event I must have blacked out. I would remember nothing else except waking up the next morning in the bed I usually slept in. The wonderful aroma of bacon, sausage, and waffles greeted my nostrils. The low roar of the television with the sound of the intro to The Price is Right greeted my ears. I slowly opened my eyes to notice a large window just in front of my bed near the old fireplace. A cool morning breeze slightly moved the large curtains that were draped about it and gently greeted me with a wonderfuly cool morning embrace.

It all seemed like a nightmare but that was the window that, just the night before, I stood under in the cover of darkness poised to outdo myself. Now the window glowed and radiated with the beauty of the morning sun. As I slowly climbed out of bed I heard the sound of that old dog Rebel barking not far away. This was followed by the sound of a pick up truck pulling up in the side yard. My grandparents had returned. Then the wise and endearing words of my Paw Paw Hancock suddenly came to mind: "Peanut, you can't scare ole' Duke. You will only wind up scaring yourself."