Some called him “Lewis,” some called him “Lew.” “Bud,” or “Buddy.”  I called him “Uncle Bud.” 

He was only 20 when I was born, and we bonded right from the start, as you can tell from the photo!  :-)

He teased me unmercifully and let me tag along after him with my brothers Harry and Cliff during our stays at the farm in summertime.  We listened with rapt attention as he talked with family and friends—always good for a dramatic or funny story, well-told in the tradition of Southern Appalachian story-telling!

One of our favorite things was to “go to the store.”  In that rural community, that meant Huffman’s Store, a country store in the best tradition, selling everything from chicken feed to ice cream, candy, and soft drinks.  A trip to the store meant the possibility we could get some sweet snacks.  I remember Fudgcicles and Dreamcicles or maybe s soft drink—my brother Harry and I liked Pal, an orange drink.  My brother Cliff liked Brownie (a chocolate drink) or Grapette soft drinks.

I remember the terrible summer day in 1958 when we got the call that Uncle Bud had had a tractor accident.  We were living in Staunton, Virginia at the time, so Mom (his sister Frances) packed us up and we went to the farm to stay for a while to help with chores and with caring for him. 

It had been a hot day and he was returning the borrowed cement mixer at the end of a day pouring concrete.  He blacked out and the tractor ran up on the bank and turned over on him. For a while, he held it up with his shoulder so that it didn’t completely rest on him. Finally his shoulder gave out, and the tractor’s full weight came down on him. It crushed his leg—breaking it in 7 or 8 places. With careful nursing and many applications of “Effie salve”—a homemade salve with great power to draw out impurities and prevent infection—his leg was saved.  He wore a cast for several weeks, which meant neighbors had to step up and help with farm work.  Being part of a close-knit rural community means help is always at hand!

Of course, Uncle Bud was always more than willing to help others, and did so without their asking, as an impulse of generosity and caring. Not one to “blow his own horn,” many of those he helped had to tell us, because Uncle Bud would help without fanfare.  It was his modest yet generous way.

There are so many more stories about him that could be told; perhaps you have your own?  Please share them on this website!

In loving memory,
Sally Ann Rhodes Ahner