PERSPECTIVES...

You could hear Willie coming long before he made the turn around the bend of that old dusty country road. His cheerful whistling would cut through the bushes and cross the creek like an advance trumpeter. And when he finally sauntered into view, you always wondered how anyone could whistle that fast and walk that slow.

Willie was never in a hurry.  When he passed by, he would always stop to visit. Not on the porch or in the house but there on the road, hunkered down on his haunches in a way I've only seen mountain men do - which is as close to sitting down as you can get without getting your pants wet.

It is an art, I suspect, perfected during the early morning hours on some dew-drenched mountain, watching up through the trees for a gray squirrel to come out of his nest.

Willie could sit that way for hours, just passing the time and talking about almost anything in that easy, friendly way of his. He was one of those genuinely likeable people who you naturally enjoyed being around.

And now and then, Willie would even hire out to you as a field hand for maybe a day or two at a time. But other than that, and putting out a small garden in the spring and harvesting whatever happened to grow in the fall, Willie never worked.

FROM “ON MOTIVATION.”   (Beginning text; color illustration omitted)