Life in Moccasin Gap at Christmas

Greetings from Moccasin Gap where the men are manly, the women are proper, for the most part, and the children think they know everything. And everybody has an opinion.

It’s December again here in Moccasin Gap. Actually, it’s December everywhere - except China. There I believe it’s the year of the rat, the big fat rat that keeps loaning us money to keep us deep in debt, but I don’t care, it’s Saturday, the parade is about to start and I’m happy little white boy.

Every year the parade begins with the Mayberry police car with an Otis look-a-like in the back seat. Only thing is, the Otis in the TV show wasn’t actually drunk. The guy in the parade is. Behind the car is a float carrying Uncle Clyde’s moonshine still with Uncle Clyde on the float passing out sample jugs of pure “white” to anxious spectators. Life is good in Moccasin Gap.

The high school “band” is always in the parade. It’s called a band but actually it’s just one guy; Otis Perkins’ boy, Ellis - he never was right, bless his heart. Yes, we actually have a one-man marching band. Life is weird in Moccasin Gap.

The high school queen is always in the parade. This year, I believe its Lance Wilkins. He actually looks pretty cute in a dress from a distance, but not that cute, if you catch my drift. Life is pathetic in Moccasin Gap.

The Sons of the Confederacy are always in the parade. Some people believe they’re just the rebirth of another racist hate group, but actually they’re good ol’ folks who lost relatives in the Civil War on the Confederate side, and they have every right to form a group to celebrate those people. I lost a great- great-great granddaddy in the Civil War. He fought for what he believed in. We moved on. Enough said. Life is proud in Moccasin Gap.

The Christmas decorations are simply gorgeous; empty beer cans with lights inside; nothing prettier than a row of lit beer cans on Main Street and a bunch of lip people staggering in the streets below. Uncle Thurman gets lit on Christmas Eve and makes it last right on through New Year’s Day. The cat is 91-years old and shows no signs of letting up. When he dies they won’t need to embalm him. He’ll already be pickled. Life is a party in Moccasin Gap.

Every year I get the same thing, draws and socks. I have more draws and socks than anybody in town. I’m ready for an accident every day of the week. Mama always told me to wear clean underwear in case I was in an accident. Of course, if you have an accident they won’t be clean anymore, will they? She also told me she’s slap me silly which obviously worked.
I hate Christmas shopping. My wife loves to shop. She’s a professional shopper. She can sniff out a deal like a blood hound in a swamp. She can go into a department store with five-dollars and come out with two shirts, a dress, three purses, two samples of new cologne, a bracelet, and a backscratcher/shoehorn. Give her twenty dollars and she can wipe out a Wal-Mart is thirty minutes. I don’t know how she does it. And that’s just one of her amazing qualities.

‘round here they believe the Three Good Ol’ Boys; Waylon, Willie and Johnny Cash followed a Lone Star Beer truck to a honky tonk in Alabama bearing gifts of moonshine, snuff and mushrooms. They brought wine too, but drank it on the way while eating the mushrooms and gettin’ crazy on “shine.” They showed up at the honky tonk bearing nothing but their souls which they gladly sold to the lady in the blue-jean shorts who was standing at the gold-painted door. Life is sad in Moccasin Gap.

I don’t remember if I mentioned this before or not, but I had forgotten how much fun Christmas was until I had my two boys. Now I see Christmas through their eyes, and now I know how my dad felt. This is just too cool.
I remember when I was nine-years-old I woke up on Christmas morning, looked out the back door and there was a tangerine laying in the backyard. My dad said Santa’s bag split open and it fell out. For the next week I ran all over town telling everybody I saw that Santa’s bag split open in my yard. That story made my Christmas. And this year I’m going to do it to my boys. Life is full of great stories in Moccasin Gap, stories you can share with others, and that’s why I’m glad I’m here.

All I care about this time of year is that my two boys are happy. They still believe in Santa Clause, and the Tooth Fairy and they still think pulling my finger is fun. Life is nostalgic in Moccasin Gap.

And ‘round here we still say Merry Christmas, even to the towel heads. That’s just the way we are here in the country. Take it or leave it, it’s that simple here in Moccasin Gap. Ya’ll come see us now, you hear? We’re about half mile from the state line in North Carolina, right in the middle of nowhere. If you can’t find us you didn’t need to be here in the first place, plain and simple.