inyati13
Well-known member
Holding a position on a Cemetery Crew was a sacred and solemn honor where I was raised in Kentucky. When I graduated from college, my old summer job at the Harper Pig Farm was filled by Elsie Tolliver so I got a job on the Oakland Hills Cemetery crew. My dad was pleased. He always told us kids if he could afford a backhoe, he would quit farming and have his own cemetery crew.
The Oakland Hills Cemetery crew was a father and son operation. The father was Jigs Cordary. They called his son by the same name. So everyone called them Big Jigs and Little Jigs. But that was not right because they were both the same size. They got their names because when they were not burying someone, they were setting jig lines for catfish. They were almost identical. Both of them were big men with big bellies. They paid respect to their occupation by always coming to work in blue jeans and a clean white T-shirt every day. Their T-shirts showed everything from just above their belly-button to the top of their pubic area. They each wore a big belt with a brass buckle that was turned down due to their heavy guts. On the back of each buckle was the letters "JC". Big Jigs real name was Charles. Dad called him Chuckledee. I never knew the sons real name.
Big Jigs drank a lot. He always had a bottle of whiskey in his old pick-up. When little Jigs and I were covering a grave, Big Jigs would sit on the tailgate and drink beer. Little Jigs and I would steal a beer every now and then when Big Jigs would drink too much and fall off to sleep in the shade of the pick-up. Big Jigs told me one day that the job kept him in beer and whiskey money. He said his garden, cat fishing and hogs kept him in food. T-shirts and blue jeans last a long time. There wasn't much more he said he needed. They were hardy guys. They never wore a coat. Even when we planted people in December, they still wore their clean white T-shirts and blue jeans.
One day in early summer it got so wet, they could not get the hearse to a grave at the back of the cemetery. So we tied the casket to the backhoe bucket. Big Jigs had been drinking that morning. We were almost there when the rope slipped off the bucket and dropped the casket. It came open and the old woman inside rolled out on the ground. It sacred us to death. Big Jigs was cussing and yelling at us to get the woman back inside before someone saw us. Little Jigs would not touch her and I had to lift her in myself. She was very light and I got her in the casket. We took some old rags and cleaned the casket and put it up on the stand. I am sure none of the family ever knew exactly what happened. But while we were waiting for the graveside ceremony to end, I was watching and I saw a big chunk of mud stuck under the side bar. After the ceremony, I watched as a gentleman took out a clean checkered bandanna and wipe off the chunk of mud.
I was honored by my position but I was surprised at the way the Jigs' boys handled their solemn obligations. They often talked about not having work when there was no one dying. In fact, they both admitted that the first thing they did each morning was read the local obituaries. I was put off by this lack of respect and decided at the end of the summer to go back to college and get my Masters Degree.
The Oakland Hills Cemetery crew was a father and son operation. The father was Jigs Cordary. They called his son by the same name. So everyone called them Big Jigs and Little Jigs. But that was not right because they were both the same size. They got their names because when they were not burying someone, they were setting jig lines for catfish. They were almost identical. Both of them were big men with big bellies. They paid respect to their occupation by always coming to work in blue jeans and a clean white T-shirt every day. Their T-shirts showed everything from just above their belly-button to the top of their pubic area. They each wore a big belt with a brass buckle that was turned down due to their heavy guts. On the back of each buckle was the letters "JC". Big Jigs real name was Charles. Dad called him Chuckledee. I never knew the sons real name.
Big Jigs drank a lot. He always had a bottle of whiskey in his old pick-up. When little Jigs and I were covering a grave, Big Jigs would sit on the tailgate and drink beer. Little Jigs and I would steal a beer every now and then when Big Jigs would drink too much and fall off to sleep in the shade of the pick-up. Big Jigs told me one day that the job kept him in beer and whiskey money. He said his garden, cat fishing and hogs kept him in food. T-shirts and blue jeans last a long time. There wasn't much more he said he needed. They were hardy guys. They never wore a coat. Even when we planted people in December, they still wore their clean white T-shirts and blue jeans.
One day in early summer it got so wet, they could not get the hearse to a grave at the back of the cemetery. So we tied the casket to the backhoe bucket. Big Jigs had been drinking that morning. We were almost there when the rope slipped off the bucket and dropped the casket. It came open and the old woman inside rolled out on the ground. It sacred us to death. Big Jigs was cussing and yelling at us to get the woman back inside before someone saw us. Little Jigs would not touch her and I had to lift her in myself. She was very light and I got her in the casket. We took some old rags and cleaned the casket and put it up on the stand. I am sure none of the family ever knew exactly what happened. But while we were waiting for the graveside ceremony to end, I was watching and I saw a big chunk of mud stuck under the side bar. After the ceremony, I watched as a gentleman took out a clean checkered bandanna and wipe off the chunk of mud.
I was honored by my position but I was surprised at the way the Jigs' boys handled their solemn obligations. They often talked about not having work when there was no one dying. In fact, they both admitted that the first thing they did each morning was read the local obituaries. I was put off by this lack of respect and decided at the end of the summer to go back to college and get my Masters Degree.
