The Liars' Bench

This is not the actual bench, it is a picture of another bench in another Commonwealth. My Grandfather would congregate down by the square in Harlan, Kentucky, and hold court on the passing parade of life. My Grandma named the bench,but I doubt if you could have found the title, "Liar's Bench" anywhere on it.

I was thirteen when Grandpa decided that I was perhaps old enough to join the old men on the bench. I was unaware then of the privledge this represented.

Grandpa formed a tooth pick from a match, and worked it around in his mouth as he eyed the traffic. I watched,not quite sure of what he was thinking. Then, he looked up, and he said," You know, we are looked upon as poor, but look at the cars whizzing about. They are practically brand new, and in good shape too."

True, the cars we saw were practically new, but I knew, but did not voice the opinion, that they may be new, but they were parked in front of hovels.

Grandpa's name was Vernon as well. We called him V.C., I became Big Vernon, no one thought of calling me V.W., and my cousin became little Vernon.