Uncle Barlow

    I got a letter from Uncle Barlow the other day.  He writes from time to time.
    I should explain that he isn't necessarily my uncle at all.  His branch of the family tree is way out on the fringes, and  I'm not clear on our exact relationship.   The closest I ever got to an explanation was from a guy at a family reunion. He said Uncle Barlow was my mother's third cousin's second husband.  That may be true, or the guy may have  been brushing me off. He was eager to get to the flask he'd stashed in the azaleas behind the picnic shelter.
    Also, "Uncle Barlow" may not actually be Uncle Barlow's name.  He lives out in the country among people who've been there for generations.  A lot of them are tagged with the Barlow name one way or  another. Even the county is named Barlow.  So while it's possible that "Barlow" is part of Uncle Barlow's proper name, it's also possible that it's just a sort of handle, like Minnesota Fats or  Memphis Slim or  Cincinnati Kid.
    Uncle Barlow has been retired for years. He spends his days whittling and watching what he calls "the passing parade of life."  If the parade begins to move too fast for him, he writes me. Here's what 's been on his mind lately:

    "Dear Nephew,"
    (He calls me "nephew." I just go with it.)
     "I read in the Barlow Clarion that this fellow Rick Santorum is beginning to do pretty good in that election the Republicans are having.  This has me concerned and confused, because it looks to me like if he became president he'd want to make us all go to church and have a lot of children.
    "Now, I always thought that church was one thing, and the government was something else. But I never did very good in school, so maybe I just didn't understand. I'll keep working on that part.
    "And I think I'm OK on the business about having a lot of kids, what with my dear Beulah being gone all these years. Nowadays  there are only four single women my age in Barlow County. Three of them are in the home, and the fourth one is the Widow Cumbee. If Mr. Santorum  ever saw the widow Cumbee, I think he'd be willing to give me a pass.
    "What's really got me stirred up is this church thing. I've never been much of a church fellow, so most of what I know  is second-hand.  But I do notice some things.  For example, take the folks who swarm down to the First Barlow Church on Sundays.  I notice that during the week they don't exactly practice what they preach, you might say.
    "This must be OK with Mr. Santorum, as I read in the Clarion that he did some of  the same sort of thing when he was up there in the U.S. Senate.  From time to time he'd say one thing and then vote the other way. I guess he had  examples to follow, since a lot of them seem to do it in the Congress. That's according to what I read in the Clarion, anyway. I wonder if they give newcomers some kind of training class when they arrive, so they don't look clumsy the first few times they double back on their word.
    " I've never had any such training, so I struggle with the notion of  saying you believe something and then acting like you really never did.  I tried it for a few hours last Tuesday, and it made my head swim. Maybe if Mr. Santorum gets elected he can make Congress offer classes to everybody.
    "About those fellows Ron Paul and Newt Gingrich I don't know what to think. Judging from the way they're lagging behind, others don't either.  Why they keep running is a mystery to me.  Maybe they just enjoy having friends pay for their travel.
      "Now, this Romney fellow seems to be an interesting kind of bird. I read in the Clarion that he just changes what he says he believes to fit the situation he's in.  This doesn't seem to me like the best way to behave, but I guess it's convenient.
     "It reminds me of what happened here last winter with the youngster in the devil suit.
     "Some fraternity boys over the college had a bunch of new pledges they needed to break in.  They dressed them in all different kinds of costumes and left them out in the country to get back the best way they could.  The one they dropped off here in Barlow County had on a devil costume.
     "He soon got lost and wandered around until after dark. He began to get pretty scared. When he saw lights and heard voices over at the First Barlow Church, he made right for it.
    "Inside, they were having a revival meeting.  It had lasted into the night, because they had one of those guest preachers who can talk so long you need a haircut by the time he's done. He was reaching full roar about hellfire and damnation when the back door of the church flew open, and in staggered the college boy in the devil suit.  He was so scared his eyes were bugging out.  And it was a cold night, so his breath was all smoky in the air.
     "People took one look at that sight and began diving for the doors and windows.  The Widow Cumbee doesn't miss any meals, so it can take her an extra little while to move.  By the time she got all of herself under way, most of the exits were busy. She decided to make for the back door of the church.  All the commotion had scared the college boy even worse than he already was, and he decided to scamper out the same way. The two of them got jammed up in the doorway, belly to belly and eyeball to eyeball. The Widow Cumbee commenced to shouting, 'Look here! I want you to know I've  really been on your side all along!'
     "I don't think the Widow Cumbee is likely to run for president, but judging from events lately you never can tell what kind of folks might volunteer.
                                                                          "Sincerely,
                                                                          "Your Uncle Barlow"