Mrs. Albert P. Huckameyer was what we always heard as kids as being "in high cotton". She was married to Mr. Albert P. Huckameyer, who ran the local bank until he passed on by choking to death on one of the oversized mountain oysters that Earl Longpine served every Thursday night at the Down Home Café.

Aunt Bernie was the only person I ever knew that called her Grace. They were fast and steady friends, and more importantly, drinking and fishing buddies. You would see them on an afternoon with a bucket of worms, cane poles and a six pack heading for the pond on ole Miller's farm, being trailed by at least a dozen or so of Aunt Bernie's cats.

Whatever money Mr. Huckameyer had left Grace had long since been scattered on facelifts, cocktails and the kind of stuff she called "the finer things in life". After she settled in to being poor like the rest of us in Fork in the Road, you would see her shopping at second hand stores for the kind of expensive gowns she favored. Only by that point, they were about two steps shy of being ragbag material.

Mrs. Huckameyer

Private Collection

24" High x 8" Wide x 7" Deep