In one of those albums, I found an old picture of my favorite great uncle, Charles, and me. It was from early October, nineteen eighty-seven and it was one of the oddest days I’d ever experienced. I had just finished training in electronic intelligence and had received orders to Marine Corps Air Station Kaneohe in Hawaii. I was excited about going because I was looking forward to seeing all those beautiful women in skimpy bikinis, but I was also dreading it because I would be a thirteen hour plane ride from home. Should an emergency happen, I’d never make it home in time to say goodbye to someone I loved.
I took ten days leave between graduating from my Marine Occupational Specialty School (MOS) and reporting to Camp Pendleton in San Diego from which I would be flown to Honolulu. During the time that I was home, I got a call from Uncle Charlie one evening. He asked me what I was doing the next day and I told him that I hadn’t planned on doing a thing. He then asked me if he could spend some time with me because he wanted to discuss something very important with me. Knowing that my uncle wasn’t the theatrical type, I agreed and he stated that he’d pick me up at nine o’clock sharp the next morning.
I was up and ready to go by eight-thirty; Charlie was the type that took pride in being on time regardless of the situation. Sure enough, he pulled into my parent’s driveway at exactly nine o’clock. I was standing by the gate of the fence when he arrived.
As his black four-wheel-drive pickup slowed to a stop, he rolled down the window and asked, “You ready to get started?”
“Always,” I replied.
He looked at me with his big brown soulful eyes and took a couple of seconds before he spoke. He was the type that always thought before he began speaking. I never knew him to waste words. They were always straight to the point and easily understood. Even though he was short and squat in size, his way of speaking demanded attention and gave one the impression that he was much bigger than he really was.
“You might want to change into some shorts and some hiking boots,” he said. “We’re going to Collier Rock and those pants and boat shoes won’t make it.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Be back in a minute. You mind the wait?”
“Not really, but make it snappy.”
I heard him laugh as I turned and ran up the steps. Within a couple of minutes, I had returned wearing a pair of long shorts and was sporting a set of jungle combat boots.
“That’s better,” he stated as I hopped into the vehicle.
“What are we going to do up there?” I asked as he pulled out of the driveway. I was hoping to coax out of him what ever it was he was wanted to tell me, but knew that wasn’t going to happen. My uncle was a thoughtful and deliberate man. He’d tell me in his own time.
“Picnic,” was his response. “I hope you like it. After that, we can talk.”
“Cool, I haven’t had a good picnic since before I joined the Corps.”
“I packed a cooler and put it in the tool box in the back there. It’s some sandwich stuff, potato salad, chips, pop and some cakes and pies that I bought at the market this morning. Hope you’re hungry?”
“Sounds good,” I replied. “I’m not hungry right now, but I betcha after spending a few hours climbing around those rocks I’ll be starving.”
He smiled and nodded his head. “That’s what I was hoping.”
Collier Rock is a gigantic rock formation that stands atop a mountain where three Eastern Kentucky valleys meet to form the headwaters of half a dozen creeks that cut through those various vales. The rock stands at least seven stories high and is the size of a football field. It is so large and out of place that it looks like a marker space aliens had setup as a directional guide many thousands of years ago. The early pioneers had used it as a point for piloting. It can be seen for a couple dozen miles and it stands out like a large mole on an otherwise perfect face.
It took us less than half an hour to reach the formation. The last four miles were a primitive dirt road that had been built by a mining company some forty years earlier. Several large gullies and ruts had formed in the road as the result of decades of heavy storms and infrequent repairs. The road had a large locked gate that prevented vehicles from traveling on it and only a handful of people had access to the keys to that gate. Charlie knew one of the men that had such a key and the man had loaned it to my uncle.
It took us nearly as long to travel the dirt path as it did to travel the county road leading to the gate. We bounced and flopped all over his F150 pickup as we made our way up to the formation. By the time we reached our destination, I felt as though I had gone ten rounds with Larry Holmes.
“Here we are,” he said as his truck rolled to a stop. “Did you like the ride up here?”
“It was almost as much fun as a root canal.”
We both laughed, but not at my joke. Our laughter was due to the sense of relief we were both experiencing. Even though we both wanted to see the rocks, the trip up here had been so harrowing that I, at least, was wondering if the outing would be worth the beating I took to get here.
We spent the next three hours exploring the area. He showed me a small ditch about eighteen inches deep and about eight feet wide. It seemed to go on forever. He explained that buffalo once used this trace to come to a salt lick located in these mountains. He told me that the Indians had come from as far south as North Carolina and as far north as Michigan to hunt the buffalo that gathered at that spot every year. He believed that at least ten different tribes had visited that area over the last ten thousand years.
Other things he showed me were pits and bare spots where archeological digs had taken place. He also showed me a metal stake that had been driven into solid rock by a federal government surveying team. President Garfield’s first official act was to order a survey of Eastern Kentucky. Garfield had served here during the Civil War and had produced the first Union victory of the war in a little spot near Prestonsburg. For that, the colonel was promoted to the rank of General and became a national hero. He would ride his celebrity to the United State Presidency.
Once we arrived back to the rock formation, Charlie looked at me a grinned. “You want to see something totally amazing?”
“No,” I lied trying to contain my excitement.
“Good, follow me.” He motioned for me to follow with his hand.
“Where are we going?”
“To a small cave located almost in the center of those rocks, I think you’ll get a kick out of what they hold.”
“You mean there’s a cave in those rocks?”
“Yes, you didn’t know?”
“No.”
He smiled. “Few people do.”
We snaked our way around a series of trees, up a set of large boulders, down another and had to crawl along the base of the formation until we came to a small opening that seemed to have been bored directly into the sandstone monstrosity. I had never noticed it before, but when we came within ten feet of it I could see it. It looked like a tiny cavity in a large granite tooth.
“Is this it?” I asked as we neared the cave.
“Uh huh, it’s been here since time immemorial. Come on in, there’s something you’ve got to see.”
I looked around to ensure there were no snakes in the area and then followed him to the mouth of the cave. Once inside of the opening, I was shocked by the shear size of the cavern. It must have been sixty feet long by forty feet wide and at least twenty feet high. It looked to be the size of a small country church sanctuary.
“Holy moly,” I said as the enormity of the hidden grotto hit me like a slap to the face.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
I looked at him and he was grinning like the proverbial cat that had just eaten the canary.
“And how? How come I’ve never seen this before?”
“You have to know where to look for it. If you didn’t know where it was, you could look for this cave for months and never find it.”
“I can believe that.” I shook my head amazed that this had been here all this time and I’d never seen it.
“I know. I’ve yet to see a person that wasn’t awed by this cave the first time they saw it.”
“Count me into that group.”
“Have you ever heard of a guy they called ‘Groundhog’ Abisha Johnson?”
“No.”
“He’s your great grandfather’s grandfather. He refused to join either side during the Civil War. It’s said that he refused to take up arms against the Union, but at least two, maybe three, of his cousins had joined the Confederacy and he refused to take up arms against family. Therefore, he hid in this cave for three years in order to keep from being forced to take up arms against something or someone he loved.
“Rumor has it that one time at least sixty Union soldiers were sent up here to flush him out of these mountains. They thought he was spying for the south, but he wasn’t. He simply wanted to be left alone. Those soldiers wandered around these hills for over five weeks and they never even got a sniff of him.
“They gave up the chase only after he spared the lives of a small group of soldiers. As I heard it, one warm summer night a band of soldiers camped within fifty yards of this cave. He waited until they all went to sleep before he made his move. Now, the rest of this is only rumor, but it does make a fine story. It’s rumored that he slipped out of his cave and then overpowered the man on guard. From there, it’s said that he took every one of the men’s rifles and knives or swords. I’ve heard the numbers range from as little as twelve men to as high as fifty, but I assume twelve is the most likely number. Anyway, when those men woke up and found that their weapons were missing, they hightailed it off the mountain and reported directly to General Garfield. He was, as expected, furious over the matter, but he never sent another man to look for Abisha. ‘Old Bishie’ was still living in this cave when word came of Lee’s surrender at Appomattox.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“I did my dissertation at Columbia on the history of this place. I was able to prove that some of the soot in this cave is over eight thousand years old.” He grinned. “It appears that this secret place has been a secret for a very long time.”
“That’s right; I’d forgot that you were an Ivy Leaguer.”
Uncle Charlie and his older brother, Jonathan, had been orphaned when they were aged eight and ten. Their father and been trying to organize the local miners to form a union, but the coal company had other plans. The company had paid a group of toughs to teach Charlie’s dad a lesson. They did this by burning down his house with him and his wife still in it. The boys had been sent to an uncle’s house to stay until things cooled off or else they would have died as well.
Three of the four men accused would later be sentenced to life in prison for their crimes. The fourth would be killed by an angry mob before going to trial. The deaths of Charlie’s parents and the burning of their house were the last straws that broke the camel’s back. Within three months of their deaths, the entire town was unionized.
“Yes, I guess I have been fortunate, in a way, but I’d change if it I could. I’d trade all my success if I could have had my family back. Mom and dad are gone, Jon is gone, my wife’s gone and we never had a child. When I go… ”
Tears began to form in his eyes and he tried to change the subject. I had him pause because I thought this was what he was intending to tell me. I understood that this picnic had some significance to it, but didn’t at this time know what it would be.
“Go on,” I said. “I mean, if you want to?”
“My story isn’t worth telling.”
He tried to wave me off, but I refused.
“I want to hear it. If you’ll tell it, that is?”
“Not much to tell, but if you want to hear it, I’ll tell you.”
“Please.”
“You know that my folks were originally from Pike County, but they moved to here when my father got a job with the mining company. Jon was about four or five and I was around two or three when they crossed the mountain and settled in with family in one of those company houses.
“Daddy had gotten a job with the company a week prior to us moving. He worked hard and within two years was a foreman for them. He was a very skilled man; well read and highly intelligent. He would’ve made a manager had he been given the chance, but as it was he…”
Charlie stopped and took in a deep breath and held it before he let it out.
“We don’t have to go any further,” I suggested. I could sense his increasing uneasiness.
“No, somebody needs to hear this and I believe you are the perfect person to ensure this story gets told. I trust that when you tell it, you’ll get the facts straight.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded letting me know he appreciated my acknowledgement of the importance of this story.
“Over the years, daddy became disillusioned with the coal operators. They treated their employees like slaves. They worked them like brutes and then paid them in script.”
He looked at me and asked, “Do you know what script is?”
“It’s kinda like currency issued by the camps, but was only useable in their stores and such.”
“Exactly.” He nodded his approval. “You know your history well, but then I made sure of that, didn’t I?
“Script could only be used at the stores located within the camp, and, of course, the coal company owned these stores. Now, I’ll admit that most of the camp managers and executives were honest men, but some would raise prices sky high because they knew their workers could go no where else and use that script.
“Daddy hated the way the workers were treated. As long as they were productive little worker drones, the camp treated them well and provided them with a good living. But let someone get hurt or sick so that he couldn’t work, they’d toss that man and his family out of the camp, no questions asked. They were extremely cruel to sick or injured employees. If a man couldn’t work and dig the coal, then they had no use for him and he could go to Hades for all they cared.
“The worst was when a man died. Their cruelty knew no end for those men. If a man was killed in the mines, his wife and children had until the end of the month to do one of two things. They either had to move out or else find another man to move in with them so that he could dig the coal that powered America’s industries.
“Two to three week courtships were very common in the camps. If a man died on the fifth day of the month, his wife had until the thirtieth to get remarried or else she and her brood were tossed out on the street without one ounce of pity being shown to them. I remember one of our neighbors lost her husband on the twenty-eighth day of the month and the company moved her out before she even had the chance to bury the man. I also heard of, but never met, a woman that had survived six husbands in the camp.”
“I thought these coal camps were supposed to be models of efficiency and tranquility?” I assumed that I had made a valid point until he countered.
“So were slave plantations and Nazi death camps.”
He shot me a look that let me know that I was only the student and he was the teacher. It told me that I had much to learn.
“Any way, daddy began to believe that the only hope the workers had was to organize and demand their rights. He met a man that was trying to organize a union among the coalfields of Kentucky and West Virginia. He taught daddy how to rally support and what to say to the men. Within a couple of months, daddy was the local leader of the efforts to form a union.
“Let me tell you something. Those company leaders were no dummies; not by a long shot, no sir. They had imported Greeks, Italians and other Eastern Europeans into these mountains to work the camps. They also brought Black share croppers from Alabama and Mississippi to work as well. Most of the workers were local boys, but there were large factions of the other groups as well.
“The company bosses controlled all these groups by playing them against each other. They paid the Europeans and Negroes less than they did the mountain folks. They let this be known and blamed it on local custom. They also played upon the religions of the groups as well. The Blacks and, we, hillbillies were mostly Baptists and Methodist, but the foreigners were either Catholic or Orthodox with a few Jews thrown in as well. The bosses would play the religions off against each other. Their theory was that were they to keep the various factions fighting amongst themselves; they’d never unite against the company. It worked too, or it did, until daddy came along.
“Daddy was trusted by everyone and he was able to unite all the factions. He promised them all a fair and equal wage. This went a long way to winning over the outsiders. He won the rest over by promising them eight-hour workdays. Before, it had been ten to twelve hour shifts and even longer if necessary.
“He began getting death treats and he became concerned. The bosses were men that you didn’t want to fool with because they had money and power. Once the threats came, he sent Jon and me to live with my mother’s brother, Ralph. He was a cruel and evil man. I’ll bet he split Hell wide open when he died. Daddy tried to get Mommy to go with us, but she refused. Five days after we went to live with Uncle Ralph, the men hired by the coal bosses murdered Mommy and Daddy.
“Their deaths would prove to be the catalysts that lead to the men unionizing. His death jolted the factions in to action and had the reverse affect that the company wanted. They thought his death would scare the men, but it only stiffened their resolve and as a result, that mine and a couple dozen more around these parts became unionized within five months of their deaths.
“I know daddy did great things for this area, but given the choice, I’d rather have seen him not get mixed up in it all because Jon and I suffered greatly over the next few years. Ralph and his wife, Henrietta, were the most vile and vicious people I’ve ever known. They treated us like animals instead of family.”
He looked at me and hesitated before he recomposed himself.
“Do you know that they gave us a block of coal for Christmas that year? They laughed when we took them out of our stockings. I’ll never forget the look of sheer delight on their faces as they watched us. I hated them for that and swore I’d never be like that. It bothered Jon even more than it bothered me. He’d be affected by their cruelty the rest of his life
“At fourteen, he ran away and lied about his age to get a job in the coal mines. Once he got one, he came and got me. We camped in a tent for six months while he worked. He told the company that he was eighteen and he was able to get by with it because he was over six feet tall and broad shouldered. I also tried to get a job, but no one believed that I was eighteen.
“He’d been working there about six months when the husband of one of Jon’s old teachers saw him. That man just happened to be a teacher himself and had brought in a group of students that day to tour the mine. When the man recognized Jon, he informed the foreman that he had a minor working for him. They called my brother over and confronted him right there on the spot. He tried to deny it, but couldn’t. He then explained our situation, but they still let him go.
“The teacher, Charles Curry was his name, felt so badly about how things turned out that he invited Jon and me to live with him and his wife, Eva Faye. They had only one requirement and that was that we finish our education. Having no other choice, we agreed.
“Ralph never sent us to school. We hadn’t had a formal education in four years. Therefore, when we started to school, we were reading several grade levels below where we should’ve been. Charles and Eva went to work on us right away. They would force us to do home work for hours each night and during summer vacation. I hated it, but it was much better than living with Ralph so I tolerated it.
“I didn’t understand why they worked us so hard until I hit college. Once there, I was grateful to them for what they had done for me. It took me two years to catch up with my class, but the time I started to high school I was the second best student at the school; only Jon was better.
“When Jon graduated, he received a full scholarship to Transylvania College in Lexington. He studied there and finished valedictorian of his senior class. From there, he went on to law school at Vanderbilt. Once he graduated there, he got a job with one of the largest law firms in Louisville. He’d make partner before he was thirty-five. When he passed away a few years ago, his personal fortune was over forty million dollars.
“Since he died a bachelor, he had his estate divided into four shares. I got a quarter, as did the Curry family. The other half was divided up equally between Transylvania University and an orphanage located in Louisville. Jon had been the chairmen of the board for that orphanage for over twenty, but he never told anyone about it. But, that was Jon for you. He was full of surprises.”
“Why didn’t he marry?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Some of his enemies and assorted other low lives suggested that he was gay, but I don’t believe that. It’s hard for me to picture him as being a homosexual. He was such a man’s man that I just can’t justify those two concepts in my mind. My theory is that he feared having a family because he was afraid that he’d turn out like Ralph. That was his biggest fear. Even in death, that man haunted Jon.”
“He did well for himself, it sounds like to me.” I added this in a vain attempt to cheer up my uncle. “But then, you didn’t do so bad yourself.”
“Yeah, I too got a scholarship to Transylvania where I majored in history. After that I pursued a master’s degree at UK and then went on to Columbia to get my doctorate. The first job I got after returning from New York was as an instructor at Ohio University. I was a Bobcat for three years before I got a job at Transy. I taught there for over ten years, but decided to leave and take a position as a full professor at Morehead State University. They had a program that specialized in the history of Eastern Kentucky and Appalachia. I desperately wanted to be a part of that. I taught there for over thirty years and published ten books on the history of the Ohio Valley.”
“To have had such a bad start in life, you two did okay for yourselves.” I looked him straight in the eyes, blew out a breath and continued. “I hope to do as well as you two.”
“You will. I know it.”
“If this is why you brought me up here, I thank you. I’m deeply grateful to you for sharing that with me.”
He laughed. “I didn’t bring you up here for that. I have something else planned for you. Let’s go get that cooler and have ourselves a picnic. Whadda say about that?”
We walked over to his truck and he gave me the key to the tool box located at the front of the payload. He had me take out the large metallic cooler and a small ammo box that he had placed in there that morning.
We spent the next few minutes packing those things to the top of the stone formation. The view from the top of those rocks was breathtaking. The leaves were turning and they formed a collage of colors resembling one of my grandmother’s patchwork quilts. It seemed as though the hills rolled on forever. I felt as though I could stretch out my arms and the wind would pick me up and fly me across the sky and then land me safely back on the rock.
We stopped for a minute to catch our breaths. Once I put down the cooler, my uncle began pointing things out to me.
“Let me show you something,” he said. As we stared out in the distance, he spoke. “If we assume that straight ahead is twelve o’clock, then West Virginia is between the ten o’clock and eleven positions. Ohio is straight this way.” He pointed directly to our left to indicate where it was. “Straight ahead is Virginia and that farthest mountain located in the three o’clock position is Tennessee.”
He then tugged my arm and pulled me in close. “Can you see that mountain at the very edge of the horizon at the one o’clock position?”
I stared at it for a while before I spoke. “I can see an outline in the mist, but can’t be sure of it. Why’d you ask? Where is that?”
“I’ve been told that’s North Carolina, but have a hard time believing it. I’d say it’s a Tennessee or Virginia mountain, but can’t believe it is North Kakalaki.” He loved calling it Kakalaki. It was the hillbilly in him. “It’s too far if you ask me. I’ve studied maps and they don’t back up that assumption. Nope, it’s Tennessee if I’m not mistaken and I’m sure I’m not.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that,” I said. “I don’t know a thing about that type of stuff.”
“That’s okay, you’re young and you’ll learn. Hungry?”
“Starved, you ready to eat?”
“Sure am.”
We spent the next thirty minute or so devouring turkey sandwiches, potato salad, Ruffles potato chips and drinking soda. He had brought along a small garbage bag and made sure we cleaned up after ourselves. He believed in “leaving nature in as good as a shape as you found her.” As a matter of fact, that was one of his favorite sayings. He loved and respected our beloved mountains and wanted to take care of them.
Once we finished and had cleaned up after ourselves, he looked at me and smiled. “Can we get to the real reason I brought you up here?”
A rush of nervousness flooded my body and I hesitated before I spoke. I was thinking to myself that this must be a big deal for him if he was going to these lengths to make a grand production of it.
“I guess,” I mumbled not really believing it.
“Great,” he said as he opened up the olive green ammo can he had been packing since we removed it from the truck. “Have you been curious about what I’ve got in this box?”
“I don’t think I’ve given it much thought,” I responded. “I thought it was a first aid kit or something like that.”
“That’s a good way to look at it.” He chuckled. “I guess it is a first aid kit, but for the spirit and not the body.”
He reached in the can and pulled out a small brown bag. It was the kind you get when you purchase bulk candy at a farmer’s market. He handed it to me.
“Open it,” he said and I could see the pride burning in his eyes.
I moved slowly as though I were treating the paper wrapper like a poisonous snake. Each movement I made was exaggerated and drawn out and this only added to his excitement. Once I unrolled the bag, I took the bottom of it in my right hand and held it up to let the contents drop into my left.
As they slid out, I noticed that the bag contained three small brown cardboard boxes. They were each two inches long by two inches wide and about an inch deep. I picked one up and looked at it. As I scanned it, I noticed that printed on each box in white letters were the words “Burma Shave.”
“Is this soap?” I asked not sure of what I was supposed to do with it.
“It’s not just soap, that’s shaving soap. Do you understand what it means?”
I sat there in stunned silence before I looked at him. As my eyes met his, I could see excitement and fear burning in his, but was unsure how I was supposed to react. Out of desperation, I pretended to be thrilled with his gift.
“Sure I do. This is awesome. This is the perfect gift and I am grateful to you for it. Thanks!”
He saw through my attempt at deception and smiled. “Do you understand the significance of this gift?”
“No,” I admitted.
He smiled and said, “Good, I was hoping for that. Put one of them up to your nose and smell it. Now tell me, how does it smell?”
“Clean.”
“Good, now you’re getting it. Clean in the correct response. I want you to repeat this statement. Will you do that for me?”
I nodded my head.
“Repeat after me, ‘kin meets kind and knows.’”
“Kin meets kind and knows. What does that mean?”
He smiled. “I’m getting to that. You noticed that I gave you three boxes instead of one. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Each one has a purpose. You are to keep one and pass the other two on to someone else. When I was in college, one of my professors took me out to lunch and he gave me three wash clothes. When I asked him what was the meaning behind them, he told me what I am about to tell you.
“The reason I gave you the shaving soap is to illustrate that your past can be scraped – he told me mine could be washed – away and you can change the pattern of your life.
“We are here today because I see a rare spark in you and I believe that you have the potential to be a great man and that’s why I brought you up here. I want you to realize the special gift that God has given you.”
I was both shocked and pleased to hear him say that. He was a man that I have idolized since childhood and now here he was telling me that I had the potential to be like him. Even though I was thrilled by his statement, part of me doubted his words. After all, I’d been told all my life that I was worthless and would never amount to much.
“What makes you think I have such potential? No one else does.”
The grin that swept across his face was that of a teacher that had just asked a critical question and had a student to respond with the correct answer.
“Kin meets kind and knows.”
“I don’t mean to doubt you, but we are talking about me, aren’t we?”
“Yes, and I believe I have chosen well. Do you know why I have given you three kegs instead of one?”
“No,” I responded being convinced that had to be the correct answer.
“I’ve given you three so that you may continue to perpetuate the tradition. When my professor at Columbia gave me my three wash clothes he told me that one was for me and the other two were to be given away to two others so that the cycle would continue.
“You are my second and last give away. I gave my first one away over twenty years ago to a student of mine from Gallipolis, Ohio. He’s now a cardiologist and the last time I heard from him, he’d given away one of his already.
“You’re my second and last one, so, you’ll have to keep the tradition…”
“B-b-but why me?” I stammered as I set there stunned by the enormity of the burden he was putting on me.
“Kin meets kind and knows,” was his response.
“Forgive me, but I think you’ve made a mistake. Don’t you remember that I was in special reading classes until I hit the seventh grade? My family calls me an educated fool and a dreamer. You’ve made a mistake!”
“Yet, you possess and genius level IQ and most importantly, a desire to be a success and you just completed Officer Training with the Marine Corps; not a small feat in itself. Besides, I believe you have a desire burning deep inside of you. That’s what has carried you during those tough times and that’s what will continue to carry you in the future.”
I was shocked to hear him say that. I had told no one about my dreams. I was afraid to because my family was such that were I to tell them I wanted to make a name for myself, they’d say that I was “getting above my raisings” and then do everything they could to “bring me down a notch or two.”
“How did you know? I’ve tried to hide that?”
“Kin meets kind…”
“And knows,” I interrupted in a voice crackling as I fought to maintain my composure.
“Now you get the picture. To complete this cycle, you only have to do three things. Number one, accept my gift; number two, promise to live your life in an honorable and worthy manner, because the rest will take care of itself over time; and three, promise to pass this legacy on to two more people. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes,” I said and I wrapped the three boxes back up into the bag and then clutched them to my heart for all I was worth.
“I’ve charged you with an awesome responsibility. I’ve known tens of thousands of people in my life and you are only the second person I felt worthy enough to be let in on this little secret. I am confident that you will carry on this tradition, because, regardless, of what you now think, you are a good man and have the makings of a great one.”
“Th-th-thank you,” I mumbled as I fought back the tears that began to flow out of me. I felt ashamed that he was seeing this timid and emotional side of me. I never liked to show emotion. I considered it a weakness. I was a Marine Corps Officer and an all around tough guy. I must have looked like a babbling idiot as I began to tremble as the sheer enormity of it all hit me like a Mack truck.
“My obligation is complete,” whispered my uncle as he too fought to overcome his own emotions. “I know that I will leave the chain a bit stronger than it was when I joined it.
“We are never to talk of this again. As far as I’m concerned, this didn’t happen. This conversation never took place. Do you understand?” He looked at me expectantly.
“Kin meets kind and knows,” I choked out a whisper.