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"Unaka"  by William M Kauffman

available now on Amazon

The world is often uncertain, chaotic and unfair.  Life may reward you or it may punish you.  These are the issues of "Unaka."

Struggle marks the lives of the people of "Unaka."  The characters range from  Mickey-a four-year-old boy who has never spoken, Elena-a 30 year-old divorcee who is ( Read more... )

It's odd that my mother, Mary Lou, married a Yankee, because she and her thirteen siblings were still very angry about  "the War of Northern Aggression."  Stonewall was a common name for men in her family.  I had a cousin and an uncle names "Stonewall Jackson"  (SJ for short).  My mother's father was "Stonewall Jackson Puckett."  The first " ( Read more... )

The Baldree family had three sons and a daughter.  Linda had a bedroom in the house next to her parents.  Kelly, Steven, and Michael lived in the garage.  Kelly was "simple."  That's a nice way of putting it, but he was very nice.  Steven, the middle boy, was really not nice at all.  The three boys didn't have beds in the garage: they slept on mats ( Read more... )

As a man of few words, my father didn't have many friends.  But one of his friends was Billy. Billy bought Clarence's Gulf Station after Clarence retired. The gas at the Gulf Station was the right price, and if you wanted your car fixed right you took it to Billy.  After Billy repaired your car, you kept the receipt....forever.  This was because ( Read more... )

On the reservation, working at the Indian Hospital, I met Glen.  He was one of my Navaho employees.  Glen was thin and small.  He had black hair black eyes of a Native American, and the weathered skin of an older man.  Glen was intelligent and kind, and something of an exception for a Navaho man-he rarely spent any time in the San Juan County Jail ( Read more... )

In the Four Corners, the only path from Gallup, New Mexico to Shiprock was Dead Horse Road.  For a couple hundred years, the road had no name; however, it was the only way to make the 50 miles through the desert.  About 75 years ago, a rusted red pick-up truck was traveling this road. As it topped a hill, the driver (without much notice) saw a ( Read more... )

When I was a boy, our farm was located on Lebanon Church Road.  Why it had such a name -is confusing; no one could remember there ever being a church on this road.  Like all farming communities, we knew everyone on our road, and all their children rode the same school bus (Bus 54).

The first farm on the road belonged to Reed Finley, Sr.  It was the ( Read more... )

When I was fifteen years old, my father made a hostile comment at supper one night that our grandfather, Skip, and Skip's second wife, Bertha, would be down from Pennsylvania the next day for a visit.  Up until this time I had no idea that my father's father was alive, much less what his name was.  The next day, at noon, Skip and Bertha drove up in ( Read more... )

I grew up in rural Kentucky. My father was a factory worker and later owned a small farm store.  My uncles were farmers or low level factory workers.  We had no friends outside of the family.  Several times a year everyone would gather for big country get-togethers.  Other than the country church, this was our only entertainment.  My mother and her ( Read more... )