Roughneck Daddy

About the Book

My daddy’s daddy is my Big Papa, Leroy Percy Volmar. That’s where this story begins since I never saw the face of my great grandfather, James Joseph Volmar, who’s buried somewhere around Etoil, Texas; except for one picture where he’s lined up with members of the Masonic Lodge, upright dignified men in aprons, embroidered cowls down to their waists. And that’s not a picture to be passed around to average folks or women. I expect that at my great grandfather’s wake, a Mason sneaked the picture out from under his coat and gave it to my Big Papa who wears the black ring too. My grandfather had a big bunch of brothers and two sisters. Well, you might as well say one sister. My great-aunt Edna got TB when she was a girl and they sent her to Boonville, Arkansas, to a sanatorium for a twelve-year quarantine. When it was time to get out, she’d been there most of her life and decided to stay. Big Papa’s wild brother Bill got the Volmars from Texas to Louisiana. They had to hotfoot it out after Bill went and killed a man during an argument. Leroy, Eb, and Bill ran to North Louisiana hoping the law would give out before they did. That dead body changed just about everything for the Volmars. Recently at a family reunion my brother and I were talking about our great-uncle Bill. “Donna, do you think he was saved?” “Well, I know he was saved one day from the law when he made it to Louisiana where he married five times, a younger woman each time.” Jim, my daddy, was a roughneck and picked up where his wild Uncle Bill left off. From Chapter 9 Blow Out “I was up in the derrick and I heard a rumble down in the hole. I don’t think the driller realized when he heard the kick what was happening. Before I had time to yell down, there was a flash, and then a blast jarred my feet off my board. The well was gonna go. I reached out to cling onto one of the steel shafts when I was knocked from one side to the other in that derrick. Thank God I didn’t have on a damn safety belt up 120 feet high. Sounded like a freight train when we hit that gas. I leaned out and pulled the soft line close. Had to get ready to leap out on the damn thing. I hung out there seemed like forever while that rope swung me back and forth, banged me up against the derrick. I pushed away with one foot until I could get my legs around the rope and slide down. The whole shebang was about to blow. I was flying down that rope by the time my feet touched the ground. Looked up to see the god damn tubing bust clean off. Oil went spewing everywhere, shot way high in the air. It felt like hail until I looked down and saw grease plastered all over me. We fell over each other trying to get away. After we jumped in the car, we looked around at each other, ‘What in the shit just happened?’” “Are you hurt, Daddy?” “I’m okay, but look at my arms, they’re already red and burning. I don’t ever want to be caught up in that derrick again when some god damn driller isn’t paying attention. Or maybe he’d never seen a well come in. I won’t ever work for him again. You can get fuckin’ killed. Honey, I’ve got to hurry up and get in the tub. Find my lye soap and Petroleum Jelly.” “You’re a sight. Have you looked in the mirror? I’m scared.” “Baby. I’ll be alright.” From Chapter 10 Greyhound to Cincinnati I see the faces of smutty, ragshag men watching me from all the rows clear to the back. Guess they decided they didn’t need a shave to ride a Greyhound. Any one of them could be that serial killer on the news. There’s a bad smell in here, too. Granny says ‘bouquet’ for smell. She says it’s more ladylike. But I think she’d even agree there’s no sweet bouquet on this bus. One day, I’ll get me a ticket on an airplane. “Hey, Bubba, I wonder what Mother will have for us to eat.” “Probably some of those store-bought cookies she sends for Christmas in the tin, crumbled up by the time they

About the Author

Donna F. Orchard Ed. Sp. English teacher and school administrator She is now a writer who works out of her home office in Robertsdale, Alabama