Native Places: Uncle Ement

Uncle Ement His fingers were the size of turnips. When hornets were stinging his three-year-old grand-nephew one summer afternoon, my Uncle Ement used his bare hands to yank the hornets from the dinner bell that little Quentin had rung. Then he picked an aloe leaf to staunch Quentin’s pain. By the time Ement Lyon reached … Continue reading Native Places: Uncle Ement