Uncle Jug

My mother has one brother. He was named after my grandfather, so he is a junior, but we all call him Jug. My mother insists that she gave him that nickname because when he was young, he liked to read Archie comic books. Or maybe it was my mother who used to read Archie comic books. Nevertheless, he acquired the name of Jughead from somewhere. All I've ever called him is Uncle Jug.

Uncle Jug was always my favorite uncle. My Granny used to tell me that my Daddy was always jealous of Jug because I would do anything in the world for him, including eating everything on his plate. I wouldn't touch a tomato with a ten foot pole, but if Uncle Jug had it on the end of his fork, it was soon in my belly. Everything he fed me was pure ambrosia!

When I graduated from high school and went to college, I chose a college thirty miles away from where my Momma grew up. I saw Uncle Jug every weekend when I went to my Granny's house to wash my clothes and fill up on home cooking.

Every October, hunting season began in Effingham County, and Uncle Jug continued the family tradition of belonging to a hunting club. He decided to initiate me into the family tradition of deer hunting as well. While there are plenty of details I could share about our hunting trips, the most unusual one is Uncle Jug's CB handle.

The first morning I went hunting, I didn't realize how important the CB's were. The hunters used them for communicating, especially when they were trying to find missing dogs. In Effingham County hunting deer with dogs was allowed. The sun was barely up as we were heading to the meeting place. Static played a fanfare on the radio as first one and then the other hunters started calling for "onion head" and asking if he had his ears on. At first I didn't realize they were calling Uncle Jug until he responded to their calls. It seems that onion head was appropriate--when he was in his twenties, Uncle Jug lost every bit of hair on the top of his head except for a halo about ear-level.