jrc@hpcnoa.UUCP (jrc) (08/06/85)
This is the story of "the hole," a somewhat unusual happening in my life. The story is usually told over campfires and at parties that have lasted too long, but I can't resist net.bizarre! I grew up in the Ozark region of Southern Missouri which is so backward, as the local saying goes, you have to wipe the Owl $#!^ off the clocks to see what time it is. Anyway, we were tenant farmers for a while and times were not always the best. Things may have bottomed out while dad had his leg broke, but we pulled through when a neighbor lent a hand with the chores. The Old Timer was (actually, "is" since he's still alive) the last of the sons of the pioneers and was one stubborn SOB with a heart of gold. From time to time, we used to take the old bachelor things to express our gratitude for his help. A jar of jelly. A "chaw" of tobacco. A pint of liquor. Dad was pretty damn good mechanic and the Old Timer would call (he had a phone, but he never answered it if you called him) about a problem with his tractor or whatever. Dad eventually had a good job in town and we left the farm. But from time to time the Old Timer would give a ring. He had some firewood for us. Could we take a look at his truck? One day, I believe it was around Thanksgiving, in about 1969, the Old Timer called. "Could you come down here. I've something to show you." We figured some darn thing broke down. Well, we headed out in the pick up and pulled up to his driveway gate where he met us to open the lock (he always kept the gate chained and padlocked and slept with an old, loaded 32-20 over his bedroom door). He had something to show us. In his garden (gardens were pretty big among folks who lived off them, and his family had lived off them for years before all but he had died or moved away) was a hole. I never measured it, but I can remember standing in it so my size estimates aren't too bad (I was 16 years old at the time and not much smaller than I am now). It was shoulder deep, so that makes it about 4 and half or 5 feet deep. I could stand in it, but hardly move around, so it must have been about 2 or 2 and a half feet in diameter. There was no crater, no tire tracks up to it, no evidence of where the dirt, hardpan and rock had gone. Just a hole. A hole through a foot or so of garden soil, several feet of hardpan (that's what the Ozarks are built from: clay and flint - hardpan), and around a foot of rock. All of the soil, hardpan and rock was gone. The hole was straight into the ground - not angled. The walls were vertical and parallel, forming a cylinder. Everything was just... gone. Dad had been in "The War" (II) and thought a bomb or something fell off an airplane and was down under the Old Timer's garden. Shouldn't he call the Air Force or something? "Nope," said the Old Timer. He didn't want a bunch of "army" boys burning his barn down with their cigarrettes. So the Old Timer filled in the hole and whatever was down there is still down there. Or whatever was taken is still gone. Who Dunnit? Whatzit? Jim Conrad (303) 226-3800 x2419 hplabs!hpfcla!hpcnoa!j_conrad