“Tween a Crock an’ a Hard Space”

Hey Ho!

There’s here’s Liam, like reg’lar.

Liam Goodwell?  Of the Denton County Goodwells?

I reckon even if you ain’t heard tell o’me, nor the Goodwells (though that there is hard for my imagination), you shorely heard o’Denton County.

Denton County?  Denton County, Missouri?  Up near St. Joe? Bledsoe River run near north to south right down to the Big Mo?


I have been plumb selfish, then, sure.  I been spinnin’ tales ’bout me, all true.  ‘Bout we Goodwells, all, too, true.  ‘Bout Miss Meadow down to the school, fer sure true, seein’ she’s the one encouragin’ me to contineeue this exercise.  She maintains with certainty I have words floatin’ ‘roun’ in my head what need to be writ, stories what need to be tol’.   She give me a stack o’ Big Chief tablets (baby paper, but they was give me and what’s give is give) and pen, no e-racin’ ‘llowed nor possible,  and had me set to it.  Been doin’ it, seems like, forever, but I reckon it’s only been since the summer begun an’ school was done, day after Decoration Day, as Grandpap likes to say.

Me, too.

So, I got it in my head, selfish though I have truly been, I think I’d take t’tellin’ you all who’s readin’ jest about where we live and who we are, we Goodwells.

An’ I think I’ll start right here t’home.

Generations heaped on generations o’Goodwells been livin’ on or near Denton County, Missouri since nigh on the beginnin’ o’ time.  Come from England, our forebears did, got them land from the King his ownself, back in New Jersey.  First Goodwell, hear tell, was the King’s own surgeon and was gifted thusly.

Well, we Goodwells wudn’t meant fer livin’ so tight, we get t’itchin’, so we lit out for the broad and wide, some droppin’ off in Virginey, some landin’ in Kentucky and Tennessey, but them with wherewithal to keep on a’goin’, well, they landed in the rollin’ green hills and on the red rich fertile soil of Northern Missouri.

Didn’t consider the skeeters.

But I digress.

Now, we Goodwells, we been up.  And sure, we been down.  But we ain’t never been called out, no matter how many strikes we get ag’inst us.

An’, well, right now, we jest might be considered on the low end o’up, as our fortunes done diminished some since we Goodwells laid claim to a slew o’Denton County, livin’ fine up to the top o’ Shiloh Mountain yonder.

That we live, all us, at the bottom of the Shiloh now, well, it don’t mean we be down, just means we be down here!  An’ we got us a right purty view.

An’ personal, ‘tween you an’ me’ an’ the fencepost?  I reckon I’ll be a’livin’ high on the hill come some day, I kid you not!

I kid you not!


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