"THE LIPS THAT TOUCH MOONSHINE..."
William A. Wisdom

I don't know where I got the notion. It may have been from my father, who grew up in rural north Louisiana. But wherever I got the idea, I knew as well as I knew anything that if you drink home-made whiskey--moonshine--- you're sure to go blind. That's why I always passed up the offer to try some of the white lightning that circulated in Mason jars at my favorite old-time music festivals in the southern mountains.

One evening at the festival in Mt. Airy, North Carolina, an especially close and trustworthy music friend from Mountain City, Tennessee, offered me a taste of what he assured me was the very best moonshine around. Well, I must confess that I was curious after all those years of watching others enjoy their swigs. And he assured me that it was perfectly safe. So I had a sip. It was very strong, but at the same time smooth. So I asked if I might have another sip. This one was a bit more than a sip. One more, and I passed the jar back to him with my thanks.

We continued to jam with the folks in the area for a while, and then my wife Fritzi and I went to bed in our pop-up trailer. I slept quite well, and woke up refreshed the next morning. I lay peacefully thinking about this and that, and then opened my eyes to start my day. But..."Oh, my God, Fritzi! I'm blind!!" I had awakened her from her own deep sleep. "What did you say?" she asked impatiently. "I said that I've gone blind! I can't see a thing!!" "Of course you can't, you jackass. It's three o'clock in the morning!"

Copyright © 2002, William A. Wisdom