Monday, January 23, 2012

Spot the Medicine Dog

This time of year, with the dried herbs and the bottles of oil and tinctures, always reminds of my first experiences with a medicine man and the making of medicines.

His name was Charlie Beam. Not Charles, and no middle name or initial, just Charlie Beam. He came from PA Dutch and German descent and he was a veterinarian, a mid-wife, and the only type of doc around for miles in the Mount Nebo community for several years. All this back in the time when miles were a lot longer than they are today.

He had a little jenny linn style shanty which served as his office with a big pot belly stove right in the middle. He lived beside a sandy lane which later became Route 19 which even later became old Route 19. Every summer I would get to go and stay on his little homestead, at least between my years of 5-12. I was 12 in 1966 when he passed on at the age of 91.

He would sit me down, along with a couple cousins who lived nearby, in a circle of chairs around the stove and place 2 gallon amber glass jugs on our laps. This also back in a time of my age when 2 gallon jugs were a lot bigger than they seem today.

He would add ingredients to that jug at various times and we'd have to roll them on our laps continuously for 10 minutes between each ingredient added and then another hour after the last ingredient was added. Most times this was at least a 2 hour process as he turned out horse liniments and stomach medicines and in separate processes, healing oils and salves and herbal concoctions of every sort imaginable.

His timekeeper, paymaster, and enforcer of general rules of order was Spot. Spot was part beagle and probably part a lot of other things, but predominately he was clothed in a coat of black and brown spots over a white background. He would lie in the circle facing us with his head resting on his front paws, his eyes following the movements of Charlie Beam, of us doing the shaking, and occasionally rolling up toward the top shelf in the left corner of the shanty. That's where payday was located until the end of the process. Payday was always Red Band Vanilla Stick Candy and it was greatly enjoyed every time including a stick for Spot. Spot would always remind Grandad if he was a little too slow in reaching for it after we were finished with the work.

Spot didn't speak English but he could certainly talk medicine. It didn't matter what anyone showed up needing all they had to say was the word and Spot was off toward the shelf or barrel that the answer was in. If they said, "My child has a very high fever," he was off to the barrels with the salty dough, urging grandad to get a poultice fixed for their feet. If someone came in and said, "my cow has had a prolapse," Spot was off toward the stitching bag and ointment shelf. Whatever the need was, he just heard the word and he knew the process and where it was all located.

Spot and Charlie Beam worked like that together for years, they were inseparable in all things and totally had 'all things in common.'

Except in one certain instance. There was only two words that could separate them and get Spot out of the shanty when we were all making medicine.

"Dog Wormer."

It was a paste located on the bottom shelf and well within Spot's reach. But just mention the word and he was out the door like greased lighting and it would be several minutes before he'd come sneaking back in, tail hanging low, quieter than a church mouse.

Spot only lived a few weeks past grandad and when they passed an awfully lot of knowledge and wisdom of healing left the planet with them.  I have attempted since to retain as much of that knowledge as possible, but really wish that at that early age I'd have know to notice and ask more.

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