The Architecture of the Arkansas Ozarks - Donald Harington [191]
“Well, I’m ready anytime you are.”
Sonora calculated the best time of her month and answered, “Any time this weekend,” so the following Sunday, after the noon dinner, when there weren’t any television sets that needed urgent repairs, Hank filled a quart Mason jar with ice and water (it was a hot day), propped a ladder against the eaves of his house, kissed Sonora for good luck, and climbed to the roof, stepped onto it, then climbed the roof to its ridge. He put his ice water on the top of the chimney, the only flat surface up there. He sat down on the ridge, lighted a cigarette, smoked it, and dropped the butt down the chimney. His daughters came out of the house and stared up at him, pointing at him and giggling among themselves fit to burst. After an hour of it, they grew tired of giggling and went back into the house.
It was one hell of a hot day, and the sun reflecting off the roof made it even hotter. Hank was soaked with sweat; he uncapped the Mason jar and took a lusty drink of ice water. The ice was rapidly melting. The pressure of the ridge against his buttocks was uncomfortable. He hollered down the chimney, “Hey, Snory!” His wife came out of the house, and he called to her, “Could you throw me up a sofa cushion or a pillow or something?” She laughed and went back into the house and brought out a sofa cushion; she threw it; it didn’t reach him; he had to fetch it halfway down the roof. He put it on the roof ridge and sat on it. That was much more comfortable. A pickup truck pulled into his driveway, and in it was his father and all four of his uncles. “Hey, Hank!” Uncle Tearle called up to him. “Ball game down at Deer. Let’s go.” “I got to fix this damn antenna,” Hank replied, taking hold of the antenna and pretending to turn it. “We can wait,” Bevis said, and got out of the truck and began climbing the ladder. At the top of the ladder he asked, “Need a hand?” “That’s okay, Dad,” Hank said. “I can do it, but it takes a while to get it right. You boys go on to the ball game.” Bevis protested that they could wait, and it took several minutes of argument for Hank to persuade them to leave. They were scarcely out of sight when another pickup truck pulled into his driveway, and Bill Chism jumped out and called to him, “Hey, Hank. My Tee Vee just won’t go on. I don’t know what’s the matter with it.” “Well, Bill, I’m sorry,” Hank replied. “I’m messin with this here antenna, and I’ll probably be up here all afternoon.” “Aw, durn,” Bill said, “I was gonna watch the Cardinals.”
“Did you check to see if it was plugged in?” Hank asked. “Hadn’t thought of that,” Bill said and got back into his pickup and drove off. Half an hour later he was back. “Yeah, it’s plugged in, all right, and I can get some sound, but there jist aint ary picture.” Hank replied, “Try the brightness and contrast knobs. Could be you’ve dimmed the tube out.” Bill left again, and returned in another half hour. “I reckon I’ve missed that there Cardinal game by now. But my old woman is givin me hell on account of she has to watch ‘I Love Lucy.’ You sure are takin a long time with that antenna. What’s wrong with it anyhow?” “Caint git it adjusted just right,” Hank said, but he was at a loss for any way to get rid of Bill Chism. He could keep sending him back to fool around with various knobs and screws on his television set, but ole Bill would just keep on coming back until Hank had fixed it. Now Bill showed no inclination to leave, but was just hanging around watching Hank pretending to twist the TV antenna. Hank kept up the pretense until he realized that he wasn’t fooling Bill, and then he asked, “Bill, can you keep a secret? I’ll tell you the truth. I know it’s plumb ridiculous, but what I’m doing up here on the roof, see, is an old superstition. Learned it from Snory’s mother. I’ve got to sit here on the roof for seven hours, and I’ve just been here about three.”
“No foolin?” Bill said, with