The Summer Begins

I will never forget that night on my uncle’s farm in Idaho.

My dad was the youngest brother, so he always looked up to Uncle Phil. Looking back now, I can see why. Dad was married with kids—me and my little sister Ruth—and had a successful job doing, well…something with computers. I never understood it. Uncle Phil had all of that, but had broken away from the rat race of the major cities we always lived in. He’d bought a farm in Idaho, nestled up in the mountains not all that far from the Oregon border. Uncle Phil would visit when he could, with Aunt Susan and my cousins along; but, we never really got to visit Uncle Phil. Until that summer…

I remember overhearing the conversation rather clearly when dad was talking on the phone with Uncle Phil. I was in high school by then, and Ruth was in middle school. Mom and dad thought it was a good time to let us have a summer on Uncle Phil’s farm while they finally got that honeymoon they’d always dreamed of. It seemed so odd how reluctant Uncle Phil was to agree to the whole thing; but, he did, and before long we were on an early morning flight from Nashville to Boise.

Ruth and I were tired getting off the plane, but we were also excited to see Uncle Phil and Aunt Susan and our cousins again. Well, we were until we actually saw them. They were all holding this big banner, saying, “WELCOME TO IDAHO RUTH AND BILL!!!” I’ll admit we were a bit embarrassed, but everyone seemed to love it. We were just two more kids visiting family out west. It was still enough to wake us up. Uncle Phil and the older two of our cousins insisted on helping with the luggage, since we were going to be staying most of the summer. Thankfully, Uncle Phil and Aunt Susan drove one of those big, full-sized vans that fit about fourteen people. We were going to need the space, along with the luggage rack Uncle Phil had custom-built for it.

Once all of the luggage was secured, we all piled into the van: me, Ruth, all six of our cousins, Uncle Phil driving, and Aunt Susan riding shotgun. It was still a good three hour drive north out of Boise to Uncle Phil’s farm, so we kids all got to talking. At the time, cell phones were these big, brick-sized things. Without text messaging, there was a lot of catching up to do.

I don’t know how far out we were when it occurred to me that Uncle Phil might have somewhat different house rules from dad. After all, we were going to be visiting a farm out in the Rockies, not some house in a Knoxville suburb. I wriggled my way up between my cousins in the closest-to-the-front seat and leaned forward to talk to Uncle Phil and Aunt Susan. “Hey, Uncle Phil, I hate to bother you,” I said. “But, are there any house rules me an’ Ruth should know about?”

Aunt Susan shook her head at first, but I couldn’t miss the slightly disturbed look on her face. “Now, don’t you worry, honey,” she replied. “We ain’t that much diff’rent from yer mom an’ dad. Just don’t be out after nightfall an’ don’t wander too far into th’ woods ‘specially on the west end of the farm. We’ll show you all that when we get there.”

“Okay, Aunt Susan,” I sighed. “I’ll let Ruth know.”

Uncle Phil glanced in the rear-view mirror and cleared his throat. The van suddenly got real quiet, and you could hear a pin drop. “There is…one other thing,” Uncle Phil said with a bit of hesitation in his voice.

“Oh, this can wait, Phil,” Aunt Susan insisted.

Uncle Phil shook his head.

Aunt Susan sat back real quiet.

As long as I could remember, Uncle Phil was a man not easily shaken. He was the kind of guy who was so tough he chewed on iron and spat out nails. This time, he looked genuinely afraid of what he was about to say. “Whatever you do,” he said firmly. “Don’t look directly at the tall, pale figure in the back yard.”