J.D. Moye - On Homebrew and Fishin'

I don’t actually remember meeting J.D. Moye – He was just kinda ‘there’ already. He lived across the road and a little bit uphill from us. Houses were not close together like in a subdivision. This was a farming community, and nearby houses were usually considered within ‘hollerin’ distance’. J.D. lived with his two old maid sisters who were schoolteachers. He was an embarrassment to them because he didn’t read or write so well, but he taught me more about life than all the teachers I ever had.

Since our dad worked six days a week at “The Store” from dawn ‘til past dust, he rested on Sunday. He didn’t go to church. He rested. I mean he resented even going to the bathroom on Sunday. He never had the time to do things with his kids, although I think he wanted to. He loved the idea of fishing, but rarely WENT fishing. He was an excellent marksman, and he loved the idea of hunting, but he never went. He knew HOW to go camping and loved the idea, but he never went.

J. D. did all these things all the time. That’s what he did. That’s ALL he did, and frequently I went with him. He never treated me as “Just a kid”, but I knew that he wanted to teach someone something, just like his sisters did; he taught about living - how to approach life from what many would consider as survival techniques, but he thought of it as just “gettin’ by” day to day.

We went fishing together a lot on the creek that bordered his property. He would come to my house early in the morning and wait ‘til I came out.

“Ever seen a pennywinkle?” he asked.

“What’s a pennywinkle?” I asked back.

“Fishbait. If you wanna go fishin’, getcha pole.”

Man, I couldn’t get my pole fast enough. Turns out, pennywinkles are the larvae of dragonflies, and are found in the leaves and debris in the creek. Under water! You have to reach into the rotten stuff on the bottom of the creek and drag it out onto the bank. The wriggling, squirming black grub-like things are pennywinkles, and they are among the best fishbait you can get. Anything from catfish to bass love them.

One day when I was around 13, J.D. invited me to go fishing with him, but first he had to go by his house. We went out behind his barn, and looking furtively over his shoulder for his sisters, he dug from the ground four Coca-Cola bottles of the first homebrew I ever tasted. We had two bottles apiece on the creek bank. He didn’t make a big deal about it; he just opened one for me and went to fishing.

“Made that myseff.” he said.

When we got back to his barn that evening he showed me how.I have been making homebrew ever since. (That’s how I got the nickname “Brew”)

Phil (Friends call me Brew)
http://www.philwhitley.com

Phil Whitely

Submitted by Tug13 on Wed, 01/28/2009 - 1:49pm.

Would one of those ladies be Miss Connie Moye?
Remember the rock swimming pool? Chipley? We used to have family reunions on the mountain and play softball, what fun! I still have a few relatives who live in the valley.
I will get back to you when I have more time.

Tug

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You got it, Tug!

Submitted by Phil Whitley on Wed, 01/28/2009 - 6:33pm.

It was Miss Connie and her sister, Miss Mamie Bell. I think Miss Connie taught 2nd grade, but I missed out on her. They were both great, very genteel suthun ladies.

The rock pool on top of the mountain in the shape of the liberty bell... we called it "The C.C. Pool" since it was built by the CCC workers (WPA). I still go there a couple times every summer.

I still call it Chipley! I think Callaway had a lot to do with the name change to Pine Mountain.

What years did you live there? Wondering if we are about the same age. Looking forward to chatting about old times! You can find my email addy on my website linked below.

Phil (friends call me Brew)
PHIL WHITLEY.COM

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