Mountaineers' Honor

It’s Feb-are-you-ready and here I am lying in a hospital bed trying to go to sleep. There are wires and probes stuck with goop all over my face and hair, on my chest and on my legs. A probe taped to my finger illuminates. Waving it in the air in the dark, I think, "ET, go to sleep!" The doc sent me over to Cape Fear Valley Hospital for a test: sleep apathy, or such.

Lying here, I begin to think: "Cape? Cape and cowl, Batman! Fear: I will fear no evil, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death! Ah, Valley. Kanawha Valley! Hospital? Ambulance!" I have an air mask on my nose and it is difficult to breathe. It is taking an effort to breathe. And they expect me to sleep? Still Julie will watch over me on the room’s camera. "I can do it. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in-- out-- in."

Julie monitoring John’s room notices an appearance of fog spread through the bedroom. "Nah!" she thought, rubbing the monitor. "Nope, no moisture on the face of the monitor. Could it be smoke in the room?" Concerned, she walks over to peer in on John. Opening the door quietly, she notices no fog or smoke in the room and John had finally gone to sleep. Julie thinks, "I wonder what dreams John will tell in the morning. It must be a faulty monitor. However, I do have other monitors to watch. He’ll be ok."

I am floating over a valley at night with the cool, crisp wind in my face. My body shivers from the chill. Through the mountains and hills, wind rustles rich, green leaves of spring. A sweet babbling brook runs towards a farm, Mammy Jane’s farm, in fact. I knew it was hers since I had recently visited it. A beautiful light distracts me; drawing my attention away from the farmhouse, and directs it up the hill. Like a moth to a flame, I must see more.

I arrive at the gravesite of Thomas and Mammy Jane Jarvis on the hill overlooking their farm. There were no tombstones, the graves weren’t there! Instead, a campfire with men seated around it beckons to me. I hear laughter and joking going on as one of the men notices me approaching. He stops talking and comes forward to greet me.

"Hi, Son, what kept you?" my father says. "Oh my God: Dad!" I exclaim. "Yes, Son, and I miss you too but this is important. Please have a seat, we have lots to talk about and hardly time to complete before morning. Let me introduce you to some kinfolk who have been waiting to speak to you. Yes, you! For you have a gift for spinning a yarn and they have been watching your efforts to write family stories. They approve and now wish to make sure you know more about what happened."

Reaching for another log to throw on the fire, a tall man in a Confederate Ranger uniform stands up. In the brighter firelight, I readily identify him as he gives me a hearty handshake. He has the Martin look of my mother’s family, light brown hair, fair complexion, blue eyes, and about 5 feet 8 inches in height. "You’re Nathan Martin, great, great, grandfather!" I exclaim.

As Nathan clears his throat before speaking, I couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Grandma Velma. "John, you do us proud and thanks for coming."

On the far side of the campfire, the dark shrouds a figure. That much I could see. However, the next individual comes from the left to shake my hand. He wears a Union uniform; a sort not worn by infantry; no, an ambulance driver, maybe. "John, I am your great, great, grandpa Joseph Fletcher Engle. Thank you for loving my granddaughter, your Grandma Gladys."

From around the campfire, the last man approaches. Wearing a Union infantryman’s uniform, black hair, fair complexion, he is the spitting image of my own son, John, except he has a beard. We give each other a handshake but I couldn’t stop from giving him a big old bear hug. I knew him; he’s my great, great grandpaw Thomas P. Jarvis. I could see Grandpa Greely’s eyes looking at me as he smiles and says, "John please have a seat, we have to a lot to remember and need to start."

I couldn’t believe it was happening. I couldn’t believe it did happen. But now I’m awake. Let me get it down before I forget. This is their tale as best as I can remember. Taking off my air mask and looking up to the heavens, I say out loud. "Thank you, Dad!"