Love Monger Ministries Presents–A Self-Inflected Drive-By…


hillbillie2HELLO GENTLE READERS,

Ever been shot at? I have!

I grew up in the “hollow” of Cabin Creek, WV in a small town named Decota. We couldn’t afford a name of our own so we stole one from a state and, of course, spelled it wrong. For the most part, it was a great place for an adventurous little boy to grow up in.

As kids, we would walk our bicycles up a long, steep hill (“The Cut”), turn around and coast back down for about 15 minutes. We attained speeds that would cause a NASCAR driver to change “undies”. We were very daring. The first one to hit the brakes was a “wuss”. I’ve had more stitches than a Betsy Ross Convention.

In one point in this journey, off to the right, was the Carbon Fuel Coal Company sawmill (my dad was their geologist). It was run by “Luger”. He was a WWII vet (an Army Ranger, no less) who “stormed the beach” at Normandy. A true American hero! He was also about as sane as Charles Manson. His moniker, Luger, came from a captured Nazi pistol he brought back from Europe. He lived in a “Tarpaper” shack with a metal roof beside the sawmill.

We kids would wait ’til the edge of dark, walk up to “The Cut”, gather our courage and chuck rocks at Luger’s roof. Out would come Luger with invectives spewing and gun “ablazing”! We scattered like leaves before the wind!

I learned three things from ol’ Luger: how to throw rocks, how to “cuss” and how to run like the wind. I can still throw rocks and cuss like a sailor but, running seems just beyond my grasp. Of course, whizz a few bullets over my head and who knows.

Tom and LaVerna Vickers