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8/10/2020

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Aug '08 Contents

Aug '08 Cover
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Articles

Discovering Southside
Finding the north line

Yellow Ribbons
Coming home to Southside

Berry Picking Time
By Gert Slabach

 

Columns

South Winds
(Dandelions Grow Tall in a Ditch Bank)

Born and Bred
(Why we don't leave Southside)

On The Funside
(Venison - Road Kill Style)

Ask Bubba - Advice
(Parody)

Departments

Editor's Page
(Thank You Southside)

Letters to the Editor

Festivals & Events

Past Issues

Past Issues are available from June 2008 through the current issue.
Select the desired issue from the drop-down box below.

 

 


"On The Funside"


Venison - Road Kill Style

  By Amy Hanek

   My husband and I moved our little family from Florida to Franklin County during the month of November, almost two years ago. I still remember that first month very clearly.

   I remember boxes. I had a two-car garage filled with boxes to unpack. This chore seemed like it would last forever. But I kept at it. I wasn’t going to give up and wanted to make this house our home.

   One very cold Tuesday morning, I sent the kids to school with my husband and approached the daily task of unpacking more boxes. This particular group was filled with my own clothes, so I had a spring to my step and a little more motivation that day.

   Still in my pajamas, I stood and stretched the aches out of my shoulders. Focusing on the job at hand, I didn’t even hear my husband’s truck approach.

   Looking out the front window, I found my husband talking to someone in a truck by the road in front of our house. Watching closely for a minute or two, I realized these boxes were not going to unpack themselves. I got back to work.

   “Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!” My husband stood in the front hall, stomping out the dirt from his boots. I looked up from a pile of clothes and realized a half an hour had gone by.

   I poked my head out the bedroom door, expecting an explanation about the guy in the truck out front. A few minutes of silence later, I finally asked, “Who is the guy out front? What’s he doing here?”

   My husband giggled like a school boy and ran to the front window. “VDOT is here. The Virginia Department of Transportation and they are here to take the dead deer away”, he explained.

   “We have a DEAD DEER in our front yard?” I gasped. “Where? I don’t SEE anything.”

   “Uh huh…in the ditch out front by the road. I guess you can’t see it from here…”he continued, “…but the deer isn’t dead yet and they have to wait for the sheriff to come and shoot it before they can take it away.”

   Looking my husband over, I was shocked. Giddy as a five year-old on Christmas morning, he stood by the front window and anxiously searched for the long arm of the law to come and shoot the injured animal.

   “Cameron is going to be sad he missed this.” I mentioned.

   No one loved hunting and shooting more than our son, Cameron. No one except my husband.

   “Oh yeah, he misses all the good stuff when he goes to school” my husband responded quickly.

   Nice – real nice. I am so glad he serves as a moral compass for education in this house, I thought to myself.

   As time marched on, my husband did not budge from his spot by the window. I could only imagine some sort of hurt and scared soft brown animal resembling Bambi.

   I couldn’t watch.

   I focused on the job at hand hoping it would distract me from the horror just outside my window. Three boxes later, I heard a low and muffled, “BLAM!” emanate from the road. My husband let out a deep sigh and began getting ready for work, (humming I think).

   That evening, my husband told his deer story to his friends at work. He worked in a restaurant kitchen and I pictured the entire crew piled around the hot line in a crude circle. Like war buddies, their tales from battle would have been traded back and forth, an occasional battle scar shown to punctuate a particular scene.

   When my husband came home from work, I asked what his friends thought of the “deer story”. Looking disappointed, he said they wanted to know why he hadn’t shot it himself and kept the deer meat.

   Trying to smile and not cringe as my stomach turned slowly, I nodded and agreed, “We will have to have your rifles ready for the next time.”

   Oh boy, that’s all I needed on my plate – Venison, road kill style.

 

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 Amy Hanek lives near Smith Mountain Lake with her husband, three kids, and two cats.

 An experienced freelance writer, her articles appear in area publications including "Prime Living ". Her column "Just Add Water" runs in the the "Laker Weekly".

 Amy is also working on a regional ghost book covering the areas of Lynchburg, Roanoke and Blacksburg. It is expected out by the end of 2009. Schiffer publishing is the publisher.

 You can read more of her stories at
www.houseonthegladehill.blogspot.com

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Questions or comments about "On The Funside"
E-Mail amyh@discoversouthside.com

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On The Funside - Archives

December 2008

November 2008

October 2008

September 2008

August 2008

July 2008

 

 

 

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