When he thought the coffee had boiled long enough he used a forked stick to lift the bucket by its bail and set it back from the fire.”
–Elmer Kelton (The Good Old Boys)
“Ohh, ohhh, I’m pressin’ on the upward way, New heights I’m gainin’ ev’ry day…” What’s that, Pard? I’m causin’ yur vertigo to act up? My singin’ ain’t that bad. Oh, it’s the thought of high altitude. Take a deep swaller of that coffee; it’ll cure yur dizziness. My mercy, Pard, what’s gonna happen when the Lord rushes yuh up thru the clouds? No, you won’t have no wings. Yur sure ‘nough not an angel now, and for goodness sakes we don’t become angels neither either.
Been a while since I’ve boiled coffee in a pail. I remember Grandpa used to do that when out fishin’. Me, well, I was a little more sophisticated; I had a little coffeepot I always carried with me. Been a time or two I’d get it out of the ol’ steel mount and make coffee on the side of the road. No, Pard, I didn’t carry a little enamel pan, that was in my book about Elias Butler. Like I said, I’m one for modern technology. If’n I’m gonna boil coffee I’ll use a regular pot, and if’n I want to get fancy when I’m out I use a percolator.
How’s yur vertigo now? I thought yuh got it ’cause yuh fell on yur noggin’ too many times. Yuh best be ready, I know we’re gonna meet the Lord in the sky at the rapture, but I thought I heard the angels wranglin’ up that heavenly herd. Whoooeeee, won’t that be a sight. We’ll be ridin’ down from heaven thro’ the skies with the Lord. Pard, yu’ll forget all about that vertigo, but that don’t mean yuh can mount one of those heavenly horses without first checkin’ yur cinch. The good Lord ain’t gonna do it for yuh.
Come on Pard, join me. Go ‘head take another swaller, “Still prayin’ as I’m onward bound, ‘Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.'” Compliments to the sage who wrote this fine song that thrills my innards. Johnson Oatman, Jr., and think Pard, he might be ridin’ right along next to yuh. Listen while yur guzzlin’ down that coffee. We’re goin’ upward to glory all the time. Sometimes the elevation don’t seem like much, just like crossin’ the Divide in northern New Mexico or southern Wyoming. But then there’s other times like goin’ over those high passes in Colorado.
Hold on, Pard, I need to swaller some. Made me a little nostalgic for a moment. I used to cry to the Lord to head out to the High Lonesome. But He said, I had work to do in the valley and on the plains. I didn’t realize that in reality I was really movin’ upward. A step, an inch, quarter mile, but always upward. Yeehaw! Let’s ride, Pard! My cinch is tight, “Lord, lead me on to higher ground!”
Vaya con Dios.