Last week we said our final goodbyes to my mom’s brother, Junior Paul “Doodle” Jackson. He was 85. My grandfather, Harley Jackson, had divided his land between his kids, which is why we lived within shouting distance of Uncle Doodle and his family.
The 60s and 70s are bygone eras. Back in those days, there were men on the mountain, like Uncle Doodle, who just knew how to do everything. Uncle Doodle was a true shade-tree mechanic, as well as a professional mechanic, who could tackle anything on a car, truck, or tractor. If it had a motor and ran off gasoline or diesel, he could fix it.
He was my tool librarian. It often took me an hour to find a set of pliers at our house, so I’d walk to Uncle Doodle’s. He had a work truck with a tool bed with lots of doors, drawers, and compartments. He’d loan me whatever I needed, no questions asked, and not even charge a late fee.
He knew how to raise cattle and how to farm. He knew where to hunt, fish, fiddle worms, trotline, and where to find snapping turtles, bullfrogs, crawfish, etc. He knew how to make home brew in a butter churn and how to make muscadine wine. I can’t say for certain, but I’m guessing he could run a mean moonshine still.
When Dad was driving an 18-wheeler and stuck me with raising hogs, Uncle Doodle once again came to my rescue. He taught me how to ring their noses to keep them from rooting to China and how to castrate the newborn males. And yes, he did try to get me to try mountain oysters. He helped me load hogs we had fattened to kill and talked me through saving a sow that was struggling to deliver her litter.
But what stands out in my memory is not his knowledge of the mountain ways. What I remember most is how pleasant and content he always was, which is such a contrast to most folks today. He didn’t talk about politics or complain about life or other people at all. He didn’t, as we say, put on airs and pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He worked hard his entire life and was kind, encouraging, and ready to tell a funny story or laugh at yours.
When I wrote my last book about my childhood on the mountain, I had to include him to show that my entire life was not just darkness. He was my bright spot when I was a kid. And when I think about Uncle Doodle, I realize that he was not just my uncle; he was my friend.