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Occasionally it got a little hot. From the Hooks point of view, it was purely a case of other people's poaching on their prerogatives. One of the families at political odds with ours—over prohibition, I believe—was the Dies family, a situation made somewhat awkward by the fact that my father's sister Elm was married to Tom Dies, who, at one time, was Hardin County attorney. She was in the middle of making mayhaw jelly. The same blood stirred in the veins of my Aunt Elm. Then, according to all accounts, he bowed to her and, taking up his hat, left the courtroom.
Tradition, when it's as bold as brass, can become tarnished, especially when it's handled by those who are unfamiliar with the metal. W. Sometimes assuming the proportions of ancient wars, these blood feuds implied both life's vital fluid and family loyalties, and the Hookses, with their veneration of family ties, were willing to spill the former to uphold the honor of the latter. As he related the story to me, I could perceive in the eye of this gentlest of Hookses a faint glint, a trace of the blood glimpsed in the eyes of the original protagonists and spilled on the dusty streets of Woodville a long time ago.
Miss Essie," Uncle Ben courteously acknowledged his brother's widow. I felt reassured. The trees in the yard were half in shadow from the onset of the summer dusk, and as I glanced toward them I seemed to hear the sound of children's voices, tired and comfortable, anticipating the call to supper, but unwilling to quit their monotonous counting game: William Trembletoe, he's a good fisherman; Catches hens, puts 'em in pens. Wire, briar, limber lock; Sit and sing 'til twelve o'clock. OUT spells out go you, You old dirty dishrag, you.
A pride of kin by Unknown