Hollay
10-07-2005, 01:46 PM
E-mail me at hollay@hollywoodpoker.com, ask to be in the Player Spotlight and if you're selected, you win an HP tournament ticket! The Player Spotlight features a different HollywoodPoker.com player and every week, we get to learn a little bit about the people at our tables.
In this week’s Spotlight, meet one eyed cat!
A GRAND MAN
Ever wished you’d had a strong, positive role model to guide you during your young impressionable years? The answer is probably yes. We all need someone like that in our lives.
Okay, how about one who made and sold bootleg moonshine and was considered a “criminal” by the Federal Government? Would you still want that person teaching you (or your children) what matters most in life and how to treat others? If that person happened to be my Grandfather Lon, I believe your answer would still be yes.
I was born and raised in a small town in the shadow of the Great Smokey Mountains, and it was there that I was exposed to my grandfather’s “crimes” almost from the moment of birth.
Three generations of our family lived in a very large, two-story wooden house that was bought and paid for with the proceeds of his business. But that wasn’t where his business was conducted. There was an even larger building about a hundred yards up the hill from the main house that had served as a barn during its history, but the cows were gone before my granddad bought the seventy-five acre place, having been sold off to pay back-taxes by the former owner.
Shortly after we moved into our new home, all sixteen members of the family and several of my granddad’s “employees” got busy on the barn, With the exception of a few minor repairs, the exterior remained the same, but the interior was cleaned, disinfected, painted and renovated to suit my granddad’s needs. And it was in this barn where his product was sold and where I would learn about life.
But this was only the distribution point. The manufacturing process was hidden farther up the hill in deep woods close to a stream of cold, crystal clear water. The location wasn’t chosen at random. The quality of the water, and its mineral content, directly determines the taste of the moonshine that comes from the still and settles in the thump keg. It was widely known throughout our town and the surrounding hills that my granddad sold only the finest sipping whisky made. That fact, plus his jovial demeanor, ensured a steady flow of customers over the years.
But my granddad also understood human nature, and when he renovated the interior of the barn, he planned accordingly. Along one end he built a bar with stools, and on the other end a platform. His masterstroke, though, was in the middle of the floor, close to a wood-burning stove. That’s where he set up six tables with five chairs each. I spent most of my younger years in or around the barn earning pocket money by washing bottles and jars for my granddad and running errands for his customers. But it was those tables and chairs that became the focal point of my young life, because that was where an almost continuous game of poker was played!
I was absolutely fascinated by what went on at those tables. I witnessed first hand every emotion known to mankind. Not only did my granddad not mind that I stood beside his chair watching him play, he encouraged it, knowing better than I did that I would learn much more than just how to play poker.
One of the first things I learned was that alcohol and poker aren’t a good combination if you want to hold onto your money. My granddad never drank when he played, and he always won. (But he was also shrewd enough not to win so much that it discouraged the players from coming back.) He was content with making his money from the small rake he took and providing his customers with the product that attracted them to the barn.
The poker games came to a halt on Saturday nights, because that’s when the barn became a dance hall. Entire families came from every town around to play their instruments on the stage and eat the food my granddad provided free of charge. It was a very festive occasion and the atmosphere was wonderful. (I sometimes thought he only threw the bashes so he could show off his fiddle-playing and square dancing skills.)
I look back on that period of my life with great affection and sometimes wish it had never ended - but time and change are a part of all our lives. We grow up, attend school, get married and move on to other things and unfortunately, those we love die.
My Grandfather Lon passed on at the age of eight-two. He died peacefully in his sleep and is buried in the family plot beside the grave of his wife of forty-nine years. The church was packed for the service, and he would have liked that. He left many friends and loved ones behind, and while he was here, he provided for all of us. The pastor of our church summed up his life with five very profound and apt words, “He was a grand man.”
I learned a lot more from him than how to play poker, and there isn’t a day that goes by without something reminding me of him. “Criminal” or not, he was my role model and I still love him with all my heart and soul.
He was a grand man, indeed!
~one eyed cat
In this week’s Spotlight, meet one eyed cat!
A GRAND MAN
Ever wished you’d had a strong, positive role model to guide you during your young impressionable years? The answer is probably yes. We all need someone like that in our lives.
Okay, how about one who made and sold bootleg moonshine and was considered a “criminal” by the Federal Government? Would you still want that person teaching you (or your children) what matters most in life and how to treat others? If that person happened to be my Grandfather Lon, I believe your answer would still be yes.
I was born and raised in a small town in the shadow of the Great Smokey Mountains, and it was there that I was exposed to my grandfather’s “crimes” almost from the moment of birth.
Three generations of our family lived in a very large, two-story wooden house that was bought and paid for with the proceeds of his business. But that wasn’t where his business was conducted. There was an even larger building about a hundred yards up the hill from the main house that had served as a barn during its history, but the cows were gone before my granddad bought the seventy-five acre place, having been sold off to pay back-taxes by the former owner.
Shortly after we moved into our new home, all sixteen members of the family and several of my granddad’s “employees” got busy on the barn, With the exception of a few minor repairs, the exterior remained the same, but the interior was cleaned, disinfected, painted and renovated to suit my granddad’s needs. And it was in this barn where his product was sold and where I would learn about life.
But this was only the distribution point. The manufacturing process was hidden farther up the hill in deep woods close to a stream of cold, crystal clear water. The location wasn’t chosen at random. The quality of the water, and its mineral content, directly determines the taste of the moonshine that comes from the still and settles in the thump keg. It was widely known throughout our town and the surrounding hills that my granddad sold only the finest sipping whisky made. That fact, plus his jovial demeanor, ensured a steady flow of customers over the years.
But my granddad also understood human nature, and when he renovated the interior of the barn, he planned accordingly. Along one end he built a bar with stools, and on the other end a platform. His masterstroke, though, was in the middle of the floor, close to a wood-burning stove. That’s where he set up six tables with five chairs each. I spent most of my younger years in or around the barn earning pocket money by washing bottles and jars for my granddad and running errands for his customers. But it was those tables and chairs that became the focal point of my young life, because that was where an almost continuous game of poker was played!
I was absolutely fascinated by what went on at those tables. I witnessed first hand every emotion known to mankind. Not only did my granddad not mind that I stood beside his chair watching him play, he encouraged it, knowing better than I did that I would learn much more than just how to play poker.
One of the first things I learned was that alcohol and poker aren’t a good combination if you want to hold onto your money. My granddad never drank when he played, and he always won. (But he was also shrewd enough not to win so much that it discouraged the players from coming back.) He was content with making his money from the small rake he took and providing his customers with the product that attracted them to the barn.
The poker games came to a halt on Saturday nights, because that’s when the barn became a dance hall. Entire families came from every town around to play their instruments on the stage and eat the food my granddad provided free of charge. It was a very festive occasion and the atmosphere was wonderful. (I sometimes thought he only threw the bashes so he could show off his fiddle-playing and square dancing skills.)
I look back on that period of my life with great affection and sometimes wish it had never ended - but time and change are a part of all our lives. We grow up, attend school, get married and move on to other things and unfortunately, those we love die.
My Grandfather Lon passed on at the age of eight-two. He died peacefully in his sleep and is buried in the family plot beside the grave of his wife of forty-nine years. The church was packed for the service, and he would have liked that. He left many friends and loved ones behind, and while he was here, he provided for all of us. The pastor of our church summed up his life with five very profound and apt words, “He was a grand man.”
I learned a lot more from him than how to play poker, and there isn’t a day that goes by without something reminding me of him. “Criminal” or not, he was my role model and I still love him with all my heart and soul.
He was a grand man, indeed!
~one eyed cat