Free Bryson City Tales by MD Walt Larimore

stairs to see a handsome young man who, when he saw me, stuck out his hand. “Howdy, Doc. I’m Gary Ayers, the morning deejay at WBHN. We’re the local radio station—AM 1590.” He paused. “In fact, we’re not hard to find on the dial. We’re the only radio station that can be heard in these parts,” he observed with a chuckle. “Just wanted to come by and meet you—especially since you guys are a great source of information for the morning news!”
    For a moment I thought he might be kidding. But he was not. Gary, as I was to learn, was the source to the county not only for world and national news, but he was also the mouthpiece for most of the better community gossip.
    As Gary left, Dr. Bacon and Barb came up from the basement. “Be careful, son,” warned Dr. Bacon. “If he likes ya, he can make life pleasant indeed. If he doesn’t, look out!”
    â€œWhat about the newspaper editor?” I asked.
    â€œOh, you mean Pete Lawson?”
    â€œYep. He was by earlier today.”
    â€œNope. Not to worry. Pete’s as good a newspaper journalist as there is. Plays his stories straight to the facts. I like Pete. A lot!”
    And I liked Dr. Bacon. I asked him if he’d give me a personal tour of his orchard, located between our house and his.
    â€œYou bet!” he agreed. “Do you want to help with the harvest? I’d be glad to trade a few jars of canned apples, applesauce, and apple cider for your efforts.”
    â€œI’d be delighted.” I smiled as I accompanied him outside, where we strolled through the rows of trees and eventually sat under the large fir tree in front of his house, gazing at the mountains. Dr. Bacon began to share a bit about his past and about the medical history of the county.
    â€œWalt, I’m glad you’re going to bring the babies back to our county. I was so disappointed when the younger docs and the hospital decided to let Sylva take away our babies.”
    â€œDid you attend births yourself?” I inquired.
    He looked at me as though I had four eyes. “Did I attend births?” He chuckled. “Why, I’ve delivered hundreds and hundreds of babies in my time. I’ve even delivered scores of babies of girls I delivered. Now, that’s when you know you’re getting old—when you deliver your second generation. I’ve even delivered a few of what I call third-generation babies—where I delivered the baby, the mom, and the grandmom. Now you know for sure that I’m ancient.” He threw his head back and laughed. I wondered if I would ever have the amazing privilege to attend the birth of a woman whose own birth I had attended.
    â€œFor years and years,” Dr. Bacon continued, “before the hospital was built, why, I’d do all the deliveries at home. Remember taking the Model-T out into the hollows. Sometimes I’d have to push her across the creek bottoms, sometimes get stuck in mud. Would get to the house and stay until the baby was born. Sometimes that’d be hours and sometimes a day or two. Had some basic rules I’d always go by. First of all, I’d get all of the men out of the house. Something about men. They just seemed to get in the way and women always labored better without them.”
    â€œWouldn’t you allow a daddy to see his child be born?” I inquired.
    â€œOh my, yes. But he’d only be in the way during labor. He could come in for the birth—if he wanted and if she wanted. But if she didn’t want him there, he’d just have to stay out. They seemed to understand—especially in those days.
    â€œWhat I really wanted at the house was women—especially women who had had babies. Walt, there’s not a man in the world that can care for a woman in labor like a woman who has gone through labor. I can’t explain it, but a woman caring for a woman just seems to make the labor go faster. If