by CliftonRoy

Created on: July 15, 2009

Son of Licking Doctor

As anyone that has grown into an adult knows, it is tough being a teenager, especially if you're the son of a Licking Doctor.

I was born and raised in the hills of Northern Arkansas in a little town close to Jasper, Arkansas. Daddy was an old time doctor trained by my great grandma in the ways of old time, mountain medicine lore. Dad was about three quarters Black Foot Indian and could have legitimately been called a Shaman.

His name was Earnest, but everybody always called him, Uncle Earnest. Many a time I have been sitting in the yard or on the front steps of our house, when some old lady would come driving up in either some old car or a horse and buggy. Sometimes they would just come walking up the old dirt road that leads to the house. Is Uncle Earnest here, they would say.

I knew better than to just let them in, because dad was always boiling some kind of poultice or mixing up some herbs or chopping up some strange kind of weeds or something. Pop was very secretive about his medicine. Told me it wasn't just for anybody to know what, or how, he was making his medicines.

Our house was usually kind of dark and mysterious. There were shelves and cabinets everywhere. There were jars of every size and shape crowding the shelves and window sills. There were boxes and baskets full of plants and flowers, stuck away in cubbyholes and under tables.

He said bright lights weren't good for the medicines, so he kept the windows covered and there were coal oil lanterns burning both day and night.

Now I know it sounds kind of strange, but dad would have the people sit down on a stool in the middle of the floor and he would sit on old milk can that he had welded wheels on, so he could roll around them.

He would talk and ask questions while he rolled around feeling of their skin and their hair. When he was finished with the visual inspection, he would look them in the face and tell them to shut their eyes. He would then real quick like, lean over and lick them on their foreheads. Sitting back he would kind of smack his lips and say, hmmmmmmmm, and then he would tell them what was wrong with them.

More than once I have seen people jump straight up and start yelling and saying stuff like, what's wrong with you old man, as they wiped the wetness from his tongue off their faces.

Yes, it sounds kind of crazy but, after they calmed down, he would go rummaging around the house pulling a little bit of this out and little bit of that. On the little brown bag that he would put there medicine in, he would write down exactly how much of certain things to take and how often.

Pop had a huge following of old time hill people that wouldn't go to any other doctor. They would come from several counties away just to see the, Licking Doctor. Most people thought he was kind of crazy and most likely, he was, however, he had a steady stream of folks always knocking on our door.

After many years, dad had become nick-named, the Licking Doctor. To tell you the truth, for a young teenage boy, it was more than a little embarrassing. After a while, some ol' smart elec kids started calling me, Son of Licking Doctor. They were always saying to me, hey, Son of Licking Doctor, Lick This. I've had to thump more than a few heads over the years.

I grew up collecting things in the forest and back ways. Dad tried to teach me everything he knew but I just couldn't grab on to everything. I did learn some things though and if you find you're not feeling too well and can't figure out what's wrong with you, heck, come on by and I will lick you and tell you what I think.

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