Grandpa’s Cannon

For many, the Fourth of July and Independence Day are family traditions. In the great state of Tennessee and very near the Great Smoky Mountains, the tall tales of summer often become the holidays of life that make every year memorable.

Summer in the mountains is one of the best times of the year. In the summer, the mountain folks are not cautious about anything. During spring and fall, the backwoods people worry. The spring can bring foggy mountain twisters, and it's best to be near a cave or a well-dug root cellar. Fall brings out the spooky time when the mountain shadows creep and the smoky fog churns up trouble in the hollows. Wintertime is dangerous because rain can turn to ice, and even a fancy car can slip off a mountainside faster than the folks in Florida can launch a rocket.

After the third week in June, Granny and all the other elders are ready for the yearly family reunion. Because of Granny, the great aunts, the great grandmothers, and the mistletoe at Christmas and all of the other secret matchmaking operations, the overall family was growing bigger every year.

Because of the blessings of more and more children, and the enormous amounts of food and activities, the big family reunion was becoming more complicated than ever. The site for the reunion and the best redeeming feature for the ever-growing family was Grandpa’s big valley farm. Grandpa’s farm was huge. Whenever the cars began to arrive for the giant celebration, the valley on either side of Mill Creek became a parking lot.

On the highest peak of the valley floor was Grandpa’s farmhouse. Next to the huge white homestead with the wrap-around porch was the old millhouse. Alongside the millhouse was the turning waterwheel and the fountainhead of the creek that made the valley and the farm flourish. At the far end of the spring and the creek that cleaved the valley was Mill Cave. The mouth of the cave was a massive crack in the limestone at the base of a mountain where the water disappeared at the end of the valley. Mill Cave was spooky because it was huge, dark, and mysterious, and no one could guess what was waiting inside or where the fast-moving water went after it entered the cavern.

At the other end of the farm and the valley was the steep gravel road that was the switchback down the mountainside. When the family members began to arrive, they had to navigate between Grandpa’s barns where the John Deere tractors were waiting in the shade, and past the chicken coops, the hog pens, and finally the open dairy barn where the cows watched but never stopped chewing.

Beside the millhouse and the turning water wheel was a small but carefully erected village. Beneath the considerable shade of three World War II hanging parachutes was enough food and picnic tables to feed a small army of hungry mountain folks and their kids who were running around the farm like a wild tribe of barefoot savages.

At parade rest, and at the far end of the shady village of hanging parachutes and over-loaded picnic tables, was Grandpa’s center of attention and the focal point for the Independence Day celebration.

Grandpa said his Civil War cannon was a leftover from the battle of Chickamauga. This was a likely story, as the cannon with its wagon-wheel gun carriage did appear to be ancient, although it was always deadly looking, well-oiled, and apparently ready for action.

The high point for Grandpa at the Fourth of July reunion was firing his cannon. It was also a time when the most cautious of the family would step back with fingers in ears and hope for the best.

Nevertheless, for Grandpa, who was 95, it was a time when the light in his eyes was probably just as bright as when his grand pappy fired the same cannon almost a century before. Grandpa was also proud he made his own gunpowder from brimstone, bat scat in Mill Cave, and charcoal from the smoke house on the farm. Every year, the tradition was the same. When the mountain shadows began to cross over the valley, Grandpa would light the taper and fire the cannon. This year, however, the meanest boy in the family decided to make this holiday much more memorable.

Unbeknownst to Grandpa and every other member of the family, Buzz Cut Butch wanted to become famous for an unforgettable prank. Earlier in the day, when no one was watching, Buzz Cut stuffed a hornet nest that he had been keeping in a refrigerator down the barrel of Grandpa’s cannon.

The hornets’ nest in the refrigerator was actually a science experiment for Buzz Cut’s little brother, but when the older brother with the flat top haircut realized the hornets would thaw out and come to life after a warm afternoon in the mouth of an old cannon, the timing could not be more perfect.

Buzz Cut wasn’t exactly sure what would happen when the cannon launched the hornets out of the artillery, but he did figure the family would talk about this holiday until Buzz Cut was as old as Grandpa.

When the mountain shadows finally began reaching for the millhouse, the cannon, and the parachute village with a hundred family members gathered and waiting, Grandpa struck a fireplace match and bravely set off the cannon.

Just as with every year before, the cannon jumped and rolled back on its carriage, but this time the cannonball of a hornet's nest flew all the way down the creek and smashed into the mouth of Mill Cave. For a moment, there was only silence as everyone realized something had actually fired out of the cannon. The silence, however, lasted only a moment before a pack of bears began charging out of the cave with about a thousand heated hornets and angry bats chasing after them.

No one was more surprised than Buzz Cut when the charging bears, the suddenly misplaced bats, and the stinging hornets chose the creek bed as the path of least resistance and flew straight into the parachute village and the Fourth of July family reunion.