Life on the Point

On top of Signal Mountain is an area, well let’s just call it the Point, that has pockets where time has stopped. Folks live within their means and generally keep to themselves in these pockets of the past. Bologna, beer, friends, family and long standing feuds embroil the day to day residents of the Point. Once in a while modern day conveniences make an appearance on the Point, and this is a story of such an instance.

February, 1989, was witnessing a typical winter in Tennessee, highs in the 30s and lows in the 20s. Cletus, name changed to protect the innocent and me from being hurt, was living in a single wide trailer on some family land on the Point. Cletus supported his Miller Lite habit by taking on various construction jobs when they could be had. He siphoned water from his parents well and was used to taking cold showers, a rare occurrence in the winter.

The sun did shine on Cletus once in a while, however, and that day occurred when Horace helped him install an old hot water heater they retrieved from a job site. Horace was a local stone mason that employed Cletus from time to time when he needed an extra pair of hands. The timing couldn’t be better, for a hot shower warms the soul during Southern winters.

The next morning Horace pulled down the aluminum can drive that leads to Cletus’ trailer and noticed smoke pouring out the windows and door. Horace entered the trailer expecting to find a grease fire on the stove, but was treated to Cletus jumping in and out of his bathroom wearing nothing but his birthday suit. Cletus had the hot water on full blast, his skin red, and was trying to rinse soap out of his hair. Horace asked him what he was doing, and Cletus replied: “That water is hot as hell.” Horace reached in and gated the hot water back so that Cletus could finish his shower without risking 1^st degree burns.

During the lunch break at the jobsite Horace overheard Cletus telling the other extra hands that “Horace is a genius. He can turn hot water to cold.”