Jeterville

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Occasionally Barry reposts a comment somebody made about their memories of Jeterville. It involved Stevie Nicks, a tour bus and the smell of weed.  It always makes me think of that place. I dream of Jeterville often- 2 or 3 times a year I would say, although I don't know exactly why.
 When I was little Decatur was dry and drinkers made road trips to Jeterville to buy beer. For that matter a thing back then was when people were going to Colorado they would take orders and bring back a trunk full of Coors. I don't know if it was not sold here in Texas then (which I doubt) but it is true they would do that. I can remember an uncle's (who incidentally died day before yesterday) car trunk literally brimming with the stuff. There must have been 20 cases or even more in there. Other people I've spoken to recall folks bringing beer back from Colorado. Maybe it was just a thing to do since that is where it was made.
 When we went it was always a big production. It seemed like a very long drive to me. In fact, the first time I drove there as an adult to a job in Fort Worth I couldn't believe it when I passed it so soon out of  Decatur  and saw that sign Jeterville pop 6 and 1 cat- that is right isn't it?  Inside the building was ice cold. There was a sign on the walk in fridge door, "Teeth chatterin 28 degree beer". Hanging from the ceiling was a canoe emblazoned with Budweiser logos. I would beg my dad to buy it. He would say he couldn't. When I would ask why he would say, That would be free advertisement. That thing still crosses my mind and I wonder where it ended up. We were allowed to choose one snack and one drink. I would pick chocolate milk and a Mrs Baird's French Pastry.
Freedom Pastry.
 I was always curious about the associated bar behind the store having vague knowledge that dad spent time in there. He would play it off in front of mom and act like he didn't know what I was talking about. I knew he would stop there and play pool on his way home from jobs in Fort Worth. He would tell other guys about it and when they would ask, Well, did you make any money? He would say, Why hell yes I made some money- who are you talking to? But, I did nearly have to fight my way out of there! Only after I became an adult and hung around some of our leading citizens did I find out what was going on back in those days. His thing was to go in there wearing his overalls after a job looking for all the world like he just fell off of a turnip truck. He would act interested in the table and force an invite to play. Then he would predictably lose a game or two, come close to winning a game, win one- barely until everybody was pumped and ready to relieve him of more money or get the money back they lost on side bets. Then he would turn those fools upside down and shake them until he took every nickel they had. When he said he nearly had to fight his way out of there he wasn't kidding- it is a wonder he didn't end up with a bullet in his brain. He would come home with his pockets stuffed full of money. He would smell like cheap cologne, adrenalized sweat, bourbon, beer, and tobacco and it was intoxicating to me.
  I knew a guy once from Decatur who got stabbed in the doorway to the beer store. His first initial was K. There was an altercation, the offender who was walking out punched the guy from Decatur 3 times softly in the belly. K shoved the dude down in a heap near the Fort Worth Star Telegram machine. K went in and bought his refreshments. On the way home he felt something cool and wet on his belly. Looking down he saw he was covered in blood. He had been stabbed 3 times with a small pocket knife.
 When I went the first time to the bar (I was probably about 16)  there it could have followed a script. Some rough guys asked me and P. if we wanted to play. I tried to play it off and say I wasn't that good. Strictly speaking that was true- in my circle I wasn't that great but I was good enough to not embarrass myself often around the guys I played pool with but the guys I hung around were studs at pool. It will just be for fun! one assured me. OK I said caving and I picked a cue. As you can guess nothing clicked until inevitably money started being put on the table but when it clicked I literally ran the table. I can still see the look in Ps eyes when he said, Man, are you trying to get us killed? and the white knuckles of the guy whose hands were wrapped around that cue like it was a club as he stood there absolutely seething with rage.

  Zac, my baby is sleeping soundly in my Army sleeping bag on the floor as I write this. In a few minutes I'll wake him so we can go spend the weekend in a cabin at Turner Falls. It was mostly second chances that have gotten me this far. I got second chances that lots of other guys did not and I try live as though I appreciate that fact.
 I'm not a perfect person. I still wake up on the wrong side of the bed sometimes but I thank God it has been a long time since I woke up on the wrong side of the driveway.
                                                                    The End