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Episode 41: Franklin, A Neighbor

Writer's picture: Kristin LindstromKristin Lindstrom

The Daniels place is a tidy two-story house with cramped rooms settled onto a large packet of land. The Daniels moved to Cabin John from West Virginia so the patriarch, Franklin, could take a government job. Franklin is tall, his skin weathered, and he has a slight slouch. He is retired and has always been a farmer at heart. Every summer he plants the better part of his large yard with corn and other crops. He loathes Junior and his family.


At our house, all the children are told that whenever Franklin stops by, we are to offer him a drink no matter the time of day. And we must always let him pour it himself. Usually, he brings corn, tomatoes and lettuce picked fresh from his garden. When I offer him a drink, he says, “Much obliged.” I reach up for the whiskey bottle in the high cupboard over the sink and set it on the round kitchen table with a short glass. Franklin pours himself a neat one, finishes it in one gulp and thanks me as he goes out the back door. We suspect Mrs. Daniels has cut him off from his own supply.

They had a baby girl that my mother tells me was born very badly deformed and Franklin carried her deep into the woods of West Virginia and left her. They could not afford to care for her. Much later I learn that Franklin left the baby in our own deep woods of Cabin John.

Franklin Daniels has three daughters, but no son. Eventually Jake gravitates toward him. I’m sure Franklin can’t believe his luck that such a boy would be ready to take in all he has to offer a son or grandson. Over the years, they become family. When the time is right, Franklin takes Jake to Dolly Sods in West Virginia and teaches him how to hunt.

Franklin’s son-in-law is a police officer who trains police dogs. I am lollygagging in our front yard, while he is in Junior’s yard arguing with his friend as to whether the young German Shepherd he has with him will attack the friend on command. They are both drunk and by the time the cop sics the dog on his friend, I am moving down the driveway to the back yard. The dog immediately lunges—for me! It grabs me by the arm and sits down. It won’t let me move.

The men are now quarreling about why the dog went after me instead of the friend.

“Hello? Hey, you guys, I need some help.”

They both turn to look at me as if they’ve forgotten all about me. They are now very unsteady on their feet.

The cop staggers over and gives the dog a command and it releases my arm, giving me an apologetic look.


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