I was a Young Tycoon Guest Post by Jacquelen Oby-Ikocha A Cookpot and Twisted Tales

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I eagerly await the posts of my talented friend, Jacquelen Oby-Ikocha from A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales. Please check out her lively blog. She is so full of life. I often think how I’d enjoy spending time with her. I am grateful to have the opportunity to exchange guest posts with her on the subject of our younger, naughtier days.

I Was a Young Tycoon
Daddy loved National Geographic and had quite a collection gathered through his bachelor days even before I was born. Like clockwork the pile grew each month with the arrival of his subscription. They were vivid with pictures and moved with us each time we moved house.
Then we lived in staff quarters that were made of blocks of eight blocks and eight three bedroom apartments for each block with servant quarters. Like you can imagine that was a lot of human beings.
One of the neighbours’ daughters was my good friend and I will call her A. A was two years older and seemed very World-wise to me. She always had lots of goody-goody rubbery chocolate, Bazooka Joe or Chat sweet which she gave at her whim and after following her around like a drooling young pup.
She was reluctant to divulge the secret to her young wealth, but I kept my eyes keenly open to observe her mercantile skills which paid off eventually.
The secret was that the garbage collectors that came around several times a week were also willing to buy broken/used household items and I daresay she sold a good bit of her family’s crockery. I got to learn that they collected old tins, gallons and newspapers which would otherwise be tossed into the trash.
So my triangular trade business started off very nicely. I began to exchange my dad’s old newspapers for some kobo’s and purchased goody-goody like an heiress.
Newspapers ran out and we graduated to the glossy National Geographic *I say we because I had unwittingly enrolled my younger sister whose eagle eyes were sharper than mine and the regular scent of sweet on my breath drew her in like an ant*
Unfortunately, during our trading days, my grandma moved to stay with us to help my mom care for a brand new brother and grandma was far too sharp and shrewd for an older lady.
Soon enough she took note of the refuse collectors that seemed to court our house far more than other locations and she burst my bubble gum.
The paddle that she gave me taught me a lesson or twenty and took age off my life.
Surprisingly, my dad was not as physically livid as I thought that he would be *it was just mom and grand-mom that heckled and made enough fuss*, but dad was pragmatic in his negotiations and I believe that I paid for those magazines with extra portions of chores till the day he handed me over to my husband in great relief.
Needless to say, I must have contributed a generous portion of mischief that expressly propagated the grey hairs on my parent’s heads.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

https://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/

Wee, Wee, Wee. All the Way to Grandma’s House

Train ride 2

Reprinting a story I love in honor of Tell a Story Day

Illustration by Kathleen Holdaway Swain

Train ride 2Going to Grandma’s was the biggest thrill imaginable!!! After days of anticipation, Mother woke us long before dawn on the big day. Our bags were in the car and off we went. It was still dark at the depot as Daddy got our tickets and our bags out of the car. Mother hustled us to the bathroom one last time while Daddy was still there to help with the baby. Barely containing my joy during the pre-trip behavior threat, I patiently tried to look like as though I was listening. I didn’t know Daddy knew anybody at the depot, so was surprised when called out, “Porter, Porter!” A nice man came to help with our suitcases and lunch hamper. Daddy gave him some money and asked him to “take good care of us.” I wanted some money, but Mother shushed me.

Daddy kissed us all goodbye. Loaded with baggage, Mr. Porter led the way. Mother struggled down the aisle with baby Billy. A tiny woman, Billy stretched almost to her knees. We trailed behind, Phyllis carrying Mother’s purse and overstuffed diaper bag. I was trusted with a big bag loaded with blankets, books, toys, and other necessities. We bumped sleeping passengers making our way down the aisle as far away from the other passengers as possible. Mr. Porter flipped the seat back so we could all sit facing each other. Mother was exhausted and hoped we’d all go back to sleep. Ha! I was wild with excitement!

Finally, the train moved, wheels ka-whumping as we picked up speed. We looked out the window at the cows, fields, and the backs of houses and barns. As the sun came up we saw farmers on their tractors and waved at kids in their backyards. Pretty soon, we realized we hadn’t had breakfast and Mother pulled boiled eggs and ham biscuits out of the lunch hamper. Sharing a cup of milk from a thermos, Phyllis drank first, saying she didn’t want my crumbs in her milk. Mother wiped our faces with a damp washcloth pulled out of her bag. Mother had a blanket for Phyllis and me to share, a bottle and blanket for the baby, and big hopes that we’d all go to sleep.

Three of them did. I was wide awake. More fields, more of the back of towns, nothing to do. Passengers starting moving back and forth down the aisle. What were they doing? Reluctantly, Mother told me they were going to the bathroom. Bathroom? Trains had bathrooms? I had to go to the bathroom!

“I gotta go! I gotta go! I’m gonna wet my pants.” Mother looked pained.

“You just went. The baby is asleep. You have to wait.”

Mother, Phyllis and the baby slept. I looked out the window; more farms, cows and tractors, more back sides of town. She shoved my Night Before Christmas book at me, telling me to read it. I already had it memorized, was surprised once again to find the last page ripped in half. I was mad!

“Mother, I don’t like this book any more. The last page is gone!” She didn’t even wake up. “Mooooother!”

She opened her eyes and gave me a hard look, hissing like a snake. “Don’t make me come over there. The baby’s asleep.” Making Mother come over there was never a good idea. “Shut your eyes right now and go to sleep. I’d better not see a wiggle out of you!” (between clamped teeth). I could tell she meant it. I gave up and shut my eyes, but made up my mind not to go to sleep.

It was strange waking up on the train. Phyllis was leaned against the window, drool running down her chin. The baby slept snuggled up to Mother. Her head was back, eyes shut. I knew better than to wake her up, knowing she might still still be mean. I tore a tiny piece of paper from the last page of my book, leaned forward and tickled the baby’s face just a little. He moved and settled back down. I tickled again, careful not to wake Mother or Phyllis. He woke up, smiled at me and started moving around, wiggling and reaching for the paper scrap. I held it almost close enough for him to grab, pulling it back as he grabbed, over and over. He laughed out loud. His wiggling and laughing woke Mother. She was in a better mood after her nap.

By now, I really did have to go to the bathroom. I held on to seatbacks as I walked on the rocking train. People smiled and nodded as we passed. They thought we were “so cute” and “so sweet”. They were really nice. Mother and I went in first while Phyllis sat near the bathroom holding the baby. The cute bathroom funny little toilet and sink. After I finished, Mother pressed a little button and a door opened in the bottom of the potty. The wee wee splashed straight down on the track! It was hilarious. I could see the track as the train moved. Then I washed my hands and held Mother’s purse. I wanted to stay longer and explore but we had to let Phyllis have her turn. Mother whispered and told Phyllis how everything worked while she went in alone. No fair! She was out in just a minute. Bathroom break was over, so back to our seats.

Mother read us a new story book while the baby played beside her on the seat. It was a really good story about flying horses and fairies. Phyllis was in the second grade, the best reader in the class. When Mother got tired, Phyllis read to me while Mother played with the baby. This train ride was going great. Mr. Porter came through again selling magazines, papers, snacks, and drinks. Mother asked if she would be able to get fresh milk in her thermos later for the baby’s bottle. Mr. Porter said, “Yes, Ma’am. Easier now than later”. He took the milk thermos and brought it back full. He refused her money, “Already taken care of.” Mother wouldn’t let me get a snack or drink from Mr. Porter. No fair. What made that stupid baby so special?

I turned and looked out the window. More trees, backs of town, cows, and kids playing in back yards. I wished I could play with them instead of being stuck on this boring train. Phyllis finished the story. She pulled a box of paper-dolls out of the big bag. She was an excellent cutter and her paper-doll clothes still had all their tabs. I wanted to play but she was still mad because I cut tabs off last time. She was not good at sharing. Mother gave me a ‘barrel of monkeys’ toy. The baby liked them too. He laughed and grabbed at them when I danced them in front of him. We played till Mr. Porter came through selling sandwiches and drinks.“The diamond car is open for lunch.”

“Oh goody! Time to go to lunch!” I jumped up. Mother caught my arm and whispered, “No, it’s too expensive. We brought our lunch.”

“But I wanna go to the diamond car.” I whined. Mother didn’t allow whining.

“It’s not the diamond car. It’s the dining car. Now, stop that whining! We don’t have the money to eat in the dining car. I made us a very nice picnic lunch.” I could tell she meant it about the whining. Lunch was cold, fried chicken, cold ham biscuits, more boiled eggs, and apples. After lunch, we had milk from the thermos and washed our faces with the same damp washrag. The good news was, we could go to the bathroom again. Mother and I went first. I saw the train track again. Mother let me sit with a friendly grandma lady while she went in.

I told her we were going to Grandma’s…Daddy left us in the dark…that we didn’t have money to buy food…Mr. Porter gave Mother milk for the baby’s bottle…not enough rags for everybody. She looked sad. She dug in her purse and pulled out some money, patted my hand, and said. “This is for your poor, poor mother.” She really liked me!

While Phyllis went to the bathroom, I told Mother about the nice lady who gave me money for my poor, poor mother, “What did you tell her?” she hissed. (Mother hissed a lot.) I told her about going to Grandma’s…Daddy left us in the dark…not enough rags for everybody…Mr. Porter had to give her milk for the baby…not enough money for food. Mother’s face turned red. She left the baby with Phyllis, told me to stay put, took the money and went to talk to the nice lady. She was gone for a few minutes and came back without the money. Boy, was she mad! “I’ve told you not to tell everything you know. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life!” I tried to explain that I didn’t tell everything I knew, but she just shushed me.

“You shut your eyes, sit still, and don’t you say a word to anybody till I tell you.”

Time drags when you can’t talk. My feelings were hurt. I got the blanket and acted like I was asleep. Ka-whump, ka-whump, ka-whump. The sun was warm on my face. Maybe I had a fever. I imagined how sorry Mother would when I got sick and couldn’t even tell her. The ambulance would take me away and they would never see me again…She and Phyllis would cry and cry, but it would be too late. I would go to the hospital where the nurses loved me so much they let me to stay forever. The story went on and on. I never did get to the end. I woke up and my mouth was dry. Mother and the baby were asleep. Phyllis was reading a book. I wanted to go to the bathroom, but couldn’t ask without talking. Phyllis saw me looking around and told me “Mother said, ‘be still and you better not wake the baby. He just went to sleep’.” She dug a new book out of the bag and read to me for a long time. She could be nice, sometimes.

Mother woke up just before I thought I would pop. Phyllis and the baby were both asleep. “Mother, I gotta go! I gotta go!”

“You went just before lunch. You don’t need to go yet. If I get up now I’ll wake the baby. He’ll cry and disturb everyone. You’ll have to wait a while.” I waited. I waited some more.

“I’ve really, really gotta go! Let me go by myself. I’m a big girl. I know what to do. You showed me how to flush and wash my hands. Puh…lease. Puh…lease. You let Phyllis go.”

Mother thought. Finally, she gave in. “Okay, but I can see you every step. Go straight there and back. Don’t play in the bathroom. Do your business, wash with soap and dry your hands, and come straight back. Don’t you dare talk to anybody!” I got sick of all her silly instructions. I went by myself. Everything went fine. The friendly grandma lady looked away when I went by. That was rude. She’d liked me before.

The train ride stayed the same for a long time. I went to the bathroom again. No problem. We had fried chicken, no more boiled eggs, fruit, biscuits, and more milk. It was nice not having vegetables. We had been on the train all day and still weren’t there. Phyllis read me another story and we played Old Maids. I was sick of the train. Phyllis showed me how to do tricks with string. It was hard. I’d be glad to be big like Phyllis so I could do things. Soon after dark, Mother said it was time to go to sleep. She would wake us when the train got to Grandma’s town. Where would we sleep? I didn’t see any beds. Mother spread our blanket on the seat making a bed for Phyllis and me and one for the baby on their seat. Mother was going to sleep sitting up! We were set, except for one more trip to the bathroom. Phyllis was putting things away and helping Mother get the baby ready for bed, so I went first. Finally, Mother had enough sense to know I was old enough to go the bathroom alone, and didn’t aggravate me with a list of instructions.

I was steady on the moving train now, so I ran, crashing into the bathroom door with both hands. Faaalaap!! Pow!! Pow!! It seemed like time stopped as the door bowed in the middle, finally turning loose at both ends and exploding inward. Sleeping passengers screamed and jumped up, nowhere to run. Men cursed. I couldn’t use a bathroom like that so I went back to the seat. The grandma lady gave me a horrible look. Passengers glared at me from every seat I passed on the long walk back to Mother.

I skulked to my seat, shrinking down as small as possible, not daring a look at Mother or Phyllis. For once, nobody said a word. I couldn’t even imagine a punishment bad enough for tearing up a train. Would I go to jail? Finally, I sneaked a peak at Phyllis. She was fascinated by The Night Before Christmas and didn’t even look up. Mother had her eyes squinched shut and was rocking the baby like she hadn’t heard a thing. I sat down, shut my eyes and pretended to sleep. I didn’t use the bathroom for the rest of the trip. Neither did anyone else!

Red Wagon War

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Mother and I went to one of our favorite stores the other day, Goodwill. I headed straight for the back to see if I could find a nice piece of cast-iron cookware. I am always on the lookout for cast-iron. En route, I stumbled up on this miracle. They were pulling a red wagon out to the floor. I grabbed it and headed for the front without even checking the price. It was a bargain, no matter what. I ran over a nice middle-aged gentleman on my way up.

“Oh, did you find that here?”

“Yes, I am so thrilled. I’m not even going to shop any more. I’m just going to take it and run.”

“How much was it?”

“I don’t know. I was so excited I forgot to look. Let’s see. Ten dollars! What a deal!” I was dancing a jig for sure,now.

Just about that time Mother walked up. “Oh, you found a red wagon! Did they have any more? I’ve been looking all over for one!”

“I know! When I saw this one I grabbed it!”

Clearly the man thought everything had its price. “My mother has been wanting one forever. Would you let me have it for forty dollars?” Mother looked at him with blood in her eye. She had her eye on that wagon.

“No Sir, If I’m not going to give it to my mother, I’d better not give it to yours.”

Doesn’t she look good pulling it around in my back yard?

Miss Laura Mae’s House Part 10

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One of my favorite eavesdropping episodes was about a friend of Miss Laura Mae’s whose husband was in prison and daughter in the orphanage.

“I got a letter from my friend Alice Marshall today. Her husband has been out of jail a long time now and her daughter Helen just had her fifth. Just look at this picture she sent me of Helen’s family. She is so proud.” she said, passing a picture to Mother.

I wanted to see that picture so badly I forgot I wasn’t supposed to be listening in. “Let me see! Let me see!” A daddy, a mother holding a baby, three little girls, and a small boy stood in front of a car. The woman and little girls had on matching dresses. The man and boy looked neat in dark pants and plaid shirts. “Their dresses are all alike! How did they get dresses alike?” I had to know.

“Helen can sew real good. She makes everything her and the girls wear. Ain’t that something?”

I had to agree. “Mother, can you make dresses alike for me and you and Phyllis?” It seemed like a small thing to me.

“I don’t know,” Mother said. “That would cost a lot of money. I don’t have patterns for matching dresses, and I sure don’t have that much material.”

“Please, Mother. Please……….” The whining did it.

“Stop that whining! Go play in the yard. You’re not supposed to be in here listening to grown people talking, anyway.”

I gave up and sat on the back step, feeling sorry for myself as Miss Laura Mae went on with her story. “I know Alice couldn’t see nothing but hard times when Martin got sent to prison. It was back in The Depression. He stole a hog ‘cause they was hungry an’ got five years in Angola. Alice moved back in with her mama in Baton Rouge, but it wasn’t long before her mama died leavin’ her nowhere to go. She got a job in a hotel restaurant washing dishes and got a meal with her shift. She rented a room in a boardin’ house, but didn’t make enough to feed Helen. She had to put the poor little thing in a church home. Poor child had to stay there four years. Alice went to see her ever’ Sunday, and kept tellin’ her they was all gonna be together agin. I didn’t see how they ever would, but Martin finally got out of jail. He was able to git a job at a sawmill and after a month or so, they got enough together to git a place an’ get Helen home. You never saw anybody so proud as Alice an’ Martin. I was real proud for ‘em. They had a couple of boys after than an’ done real good, but Alice always felt bad for puttin’ Helen in that home, but pore thing, she couldn’t even feed herself. Don’t you know Martin felt awful fer puttin’ ‘em both in that spot. He was a good man and never did git in no more trouble. I don’t believe he ever would’a stole that hog if he had’na been tryin’ to feed his family, anyhow. Them was some hard times, real hard times.”

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Wearing Out Your Welcome

Cousins on Christmas

Cousins on Christmas

parents wedding pic

family6My mother found this hilarious letter among her things today. My grandmother was in a foul mood when she wrote it. I recalled this weekend like it was yesterday when I read the letter. Grandma was nosy. If she’d been an animal, she’d have been a ferret. She like to get right behind Daddy, quizzing him about his business and his family. “How come your mama moved off the Henderson Place? Seems like she was set up real well there. How come Ella May and her husband separated? They looked like they were doing good?” If she didn’t get enough answers, she picked us kids. “When did Suzie get married?”

None of this endeared her to Daddy. He wasn’t a patient man. If he’d been an animal, he’d have made a fine bear. She had already been visiting two weeks by the time this letter was written. She was thinking her son was on his way to get her when she got a call, learning it would be another two weeks. It didn’t make her or my dad happy to know they had another two weeks to spend together. My dad was on strike at the time, throwing them together, even more. His family came in to visit that weekend, creating a perfect storm. I expected them to kill each other!

I will transcribe for you”

Dear BL, Just time for word. Hope all are getting along all right. Sure hope your daddys neck is feeling better I don’t feel too good Such a crowd here last night Bonnie, Edward, their 3 kids & Geneva came Ester, Junie, and their 5 hienas. Cat Young & her bunch of Angel then 2 bunches of neighbors & their familys & it was so quiet it hurts my ears til yet. running & slamming doors. I thought they would never leave. Kack(my mother)is fixing to take Cat Young to Springhill she has to go to the bank on business & Arnold had to go help Edward finish his filling station today & use his car& he ask her to take her to the bank. I intended to go & found out Kack was going to take all her kids. I better close. O I talked to John yest he ask me if I’de mind staying here two weeks longer til schools out that he hated to come one day & go back the next.so I told him I’de wait they are beginning to make a little progress in their talks about settling the strike they are all hoping the mill will open after July the 4th Bill got to work 2 days for another construction job, he had to walk the picket line last night for an hour for two must close Kacks ready to start tell your daddy Bill is wanting to give away their big collie does he want him to go with Blue. Must stop now. Please write soon. Love to all Grandma

I had forgotten until I reread this letter that Grandma didn’t bother with punctuation, though she had been a teacher.

Miss Laura Mae’s House Part 9

gossip 1Once again, I was sitting on the back step of Miss Laura Mae’s house with a biscuit. Miss Laura Mae was all flustered. I heard the phrase, “female trouble” and my ears perked up. Anything about “female trouble” got kids shooed outdoors. “Complications” rated even greater secrecy.

I’d just heard both. I hummed a tuneless something just so they’d be fooled into thinking I wasn’t listening. Occasionally, I said something to Miss Laura Mae’s old hound.

“Bessie, Floyd’s oldest sister was wild as they come when she was comin’ up. She slipped off an’ married when she was fifteen, and just stayed long enough to have them two young’uns. She like to drove her mama crazy. You couldn’t believe a word she said. She’d climb up on top of the house to tell a lie when it would’a been easier to stand on the ground and tell the truth. It seemed like she settled down an’ was gonna do good when she married Ben. He was a good feller an’ treated her kids good. He had that nice house his mama left him, worked steady and put his pay in the bank. I never heard him fuss with her. She was even Sunday School Superintendent down at the Mount Lebanon Baptist Church fer a while.

One year right before Christmas, she went to work in her sister’s café, waiting tables to git a little Christmas money. Ben didn’t want her to, said he could git whatever they needed, but she was bound an’ determined to do it. Wasn’t long before she was runnin’ around. She dumped them kids on her mama and run off with a feller named Jett. ‘Course, that didn’ last till the water got hot.

Next thing we knew, Bessie was in the hospital, her kidneys ‘bout shut down an’ she like to had a stroke. She pulled through but wasn’t able to do anything for a long time. Her sister Marthy took her in an’ took care of her an’ them kids for a good while. When she finally got back on her feet, she went back to Ben. The crazy thing was, she told ever’ body she’d been the one takin’ care of Marthy, ‘cause Marthy had been runnin’ around an’ got thataway while her husband Joe was off in the service. She claimed Marthy had took a bunch of quinine an’ got rid of the baby but it like to kilt ‘er. The whole thing was crazy. Ever’body knew what Bessie had been up to and knew about her being so sick in the hospital. I don’t know why she tol’ that crazy story layin’ it off on Marthy after she’d been so good to her. They just wasn’t no need. That was just how she is.

From my perch on the back step, I listened in, making no sense of the story, but knew it was good. I made up my mind to remember when I got a little older and smarter, I could figure out what it was all about.

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Monday Funnies…

Reblogged farm Chris the Story Reading Ape. Enjoy.

Mr. Bradley and the Old Floozies

imageMr. Bradley died! Mr. Bradley died!

This was unbelievable! I had seen people get shot on “Gunsmoke,” but I’d never known anyone who had actually died. I knew I was supposed to cry when someone died but I couldn’t manage it. First of all, Mr. Bradley was an old grouch. He wore khaki pants and shirt and an old gray felt hat with oil stains around the hat band. He was really selfish. He had built us a chicken house. When I went out later to investigate, I found thirteen dollars rolled up lying In the chicken poop just inside the chicken house. I went flying in the house with my treasure to show Mother. I was of the opinion, “finders keepers, losers weepers” but Mother took me straight to the Bradleys’ to see if Mr. Bradley had lost money. He had…thirteen dollars. I held the money out to him, expecting him to say, “Just keep it” like my parents did when I found a nickel or dime they’d dropped. He snatched that money and stuck it straight in his pocket, grumping something at me. I was very disappointed in his bad manners.

Anyway, a few days later he died, probably of selfishness. Mother baked a three layer chocolate cake and took to his house without even giving us one bite!! Now he had my thirteen dollars and my chocolate cake. I didn’t know what a dead man needed a chocolate cake for, but nobody asked me. The good news was, his funeral was the next day. I was in the second grade and wise to the ways of funerals. Kids got to skip school for funerals. The bad news was, I wasn’t skipping school. Mother pointed out kids only got to skip for a family funeral. I looked around hopefully at my family, but they all looked disgustingly healthy.

Billy hadn’t started school yet, so he was going. That really made me mad. Little kids got everything. While I trudged off to get on the bus, he waved and grinned.

He was waiting for me at the door that afternoon with all the details. The funeral was scary. “Miss Alice and the big girls cried a lot. Miss Alice kissed Mr. Bradley’s cold, dead lips, he sat up in the coffin, held his arms out and said, ‘ Ughhhh, Ughhhh, Ughhh.’ Miss Alice screamed and fainted. It took two men to wrestle him back down and shut the coffin lid on him. Everyone else screamed and ran out.” I was furious he got to see all that while I was stuck in school. Mother said none of that happened. “Billy talked during the service and had to be taken out.” I knew better. I had missed the most exciting event of my life while I was stuck in school.

Not long afterward my luck changed. A family member died. I was going to a funeral!! Even though I’d never heard of her, Great Aunt Nora was now my favorite relative simply by being gracious enough to die and provide me with my first funeral experience. I would have loved her more had her funeral gotten me out of a day of school, but I was still thrilled!! We got up early Saturday morning, put on our best clothes and started the long drive to the funeral. Mother didn’t bake a cake since we were “family” and would go to her home afterwards for visitation and a meal. Hot dog!!!! Maybe someone would bring chocolate cake.

The funeral was more than I had hoped for. The church was old, dark, and obviously haunted. We were late as always and crept into a back pew. I was disappointed not to get to sit with family, but the back pew was better for getting the full show. Mother lined us up on the pew in hopes of maintaining maximum control. She held Marilyn, the little baby and made Billy sit right next to her. Phyllis sat in the middle, holding Connie, the big baby. I was stuffed in between Phyllis (Miss Perfect) and Daddy. I gave the funeral my full attention. . Aunt Nora was laid out in a coffin in front of the altar with only her beaked nose visible over the edge. All I could really see was the backs of the mourners, two old ladies together with some of my aunts, uncles, and cousins who got there in time to be “family.” The old ladies cried some during the hymns, but the real show started at the end when the family filed by for the final viewing. Anna Mae and Theo, the ancient, bereaved daughters were supported by my uncles as they approached their mother’ body. They had to have been in their late seventies since Aunt Nora was ninety-eight. I’d never seen anything like them. They were the skinniest women I’d ever seen, wearing satin dresses and hats from their much earlier and plumper days. Anna Mae was in an crusty black satin dress. It was shockingly low cut, especially on an old lady with no bosoms to flaunt. Theo wore an equally interesting red dress with a daring sheer lace bodice. Both girls had probably been enchanting when they last wore those outfits back in their twenties. Their black hats had sequined veils draped alluringly over their faces. They were both so emaciated their seamed stockings drifted in the breeze around their legs. The rhinestones going up the seams their stockings more than made up for the roomy fit.

The best was yet to come. Uncle July held Anna Belle and Uncle Ed held Theo as they stood before their mother for the last time. They each kissed their Mother’s cold, wrinkled lips and erupted into howls of grief. They were pretty lively for old ladies. Theo fainted first, inspiring her sister. My uncles looked like they wished they were any place else as they lowered them to the floor while trying to keep the oversized clothes in place. Just as they got one situated, the other would rouse up. Buoyed by her grief, she’d would rush to the coffin and start all over. Eventually, they wore themselves out and allowed themselves to be led out.

Aunt Nora’s house was a relic from the Civil War era, not a well-maintained showplace, just a relic. It was in the older part of town. The fence was so overgrown with bushes the house was not visible, even though the front door was no more than twenty feet from the street. The house was huge, but decrepit. We had to walk carefully to avoid holes in the porch. There was actually an organ in the creepy entry way, just like in horror movies. The living room was cluttered beyond belief. Spider webs hung like draperies in the corners. Cats lounged on all the furniture. Mother looked around briefly for a place to lay her sleeping baby. Anna Mae tried to shoo a big Tom Cat off the sofa, but Theo said, “Leave him be. He’s dead.” Mother said not to bother. She’d been sitting all morning.

The best was yet to come. When Anna Mae and Theo took off their mysterious hats, I couldn’t believe their faces. They were heavily made up, faces powdered deathly white, blood red lipstick feathering out into a multitude of wrinkles surrounding their lips, circles of brilliant pink rouge on their bony cheeks. Jet black eyebrows were drawn in the approximate eyebrow areas, giving the overall impression of startled mania. Wispy crowns of frizzed, jet black hair bushed out, apparently relieved to free of the musty hats. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

I could hear the sounds of a meal being prepared in the next room. Maybe there would be chocolate cake. We were summoned into the enormous dining room, where someone had recently cleared the table of rubbish and cat hair. Mother looked around in a panic and said, “Oh no, we just ate.” an obvious lie since we had all just come from the service with the rest of the group . Daddy shot her a look, and we got in line.

Mother went first, fixed us paper plates from the dishes with covers, and sent us out to the porch to eat, far out of cat territory. Sure enough, there was a beautiful chocolate cake in the center of the table, complete with fluttering cat hair, but Mother wouldn’t let us have any. She warned us not to even ask for coconut pie. She and Phyllis fed the babies, shooing the cats out of their food, while Daddy reminisced with his relatives. The cats resented the invasion of their territory, and spent the entire time trying to jump on the table. They walked daintily, stepping over plates and utensils, never disturbing anything but prissy guests. One of my aunts tried discreetly to remove some of the dishes the cats had stepped over, but Theo said not to bother. The cat hadn’t dropped any fleas. The old ladies fed the cats off their plates. When I asked to use the bathroom, Mother told Daddy we had to get on home. He said he wanted to visit a little longer, but for once, Mother got her way and we left. She must have had to go, too. She made Daddy stop at a service station, let everyone use the bathroom, and made us all wash up. Even the babies got a washup and they hadn’t touched anything

Daddy had an incredible capacity for overlooking bizarre, inappropriate, or hormone-driven behavior in his relatives while zeroing in on anything Mother and us kids might do, attributing our shortcomings to “Mother’s crazy family.” His family could have frolicked naked on the town square and he’d have only complimented their grace, while we got in trouble for wiggling in church. I had a million questions and knew asking the most interesting first would end the conversation. Daddy was always on the lookout for opportunities to keep us on the straight and narrow, so I played stupid first. “Those were beautiful dresses. I’ve never seen anything so fancy.” Daddy explained they must have had those dresses for years. “But they’re so fancy with all those diamonds and lace, and the backs of their stockings had diamonds. Mother, can you get stockings with diamonds?” Daddy answered for her. “No she can’t. Now be quiet. “

Knowing I had overshot the mark and would glean no more information, I smothered my grief with boredom and slept the rest of the way home, dreaming of the next funeral I’d be lucky enough to attend.

Miss Laura Mae’s House Part 8

creekMiss Laura Mae had news for me when we showed up for coffee. “My grandson, Petey, is comin’ to stay for a few days. He’s about your age. Y’all can play together.”

Great! I was delighted. I was a friendly kid who’d have played with a rattlesnake, as long as it didn’t bite too many times. I played with Billy, but he was three years younger than I. I was always waiting when my sister Phyllis got off the school bus, but the prospect of a playmate at Miss Laura Mae’s house was thrilling.

Petey was a mean kid. He stuck his tongue out at me and pulled the corners of his eyes down behind Miss Laura Mae’s back before we even got out of the kitchen. He shoved me off the top step and the dog got my biscuit first thing. Laughing my skinned knees, he chanted, “Cry baby, cry. Go tell your mama!” I wasn’t the crying or the tattling kind, but made up my mind he was going to mess up and I’d be ready. I was insulted by his use of the word “gals,” a word I’d always despised. I knocked him off the steps, giving him a taste of his own medicine. He ran off to play with the Clarkston boys next door, which was fine by me. I wasn’t the crying or the tattling kind, but made up my mind he was going to mess up and I’d be ready.

crawfish-crayfish-on-sidewalk
I talked Miss Laura Mae out of a string and bacon rind for crawfishing. Crawfishing was simple. Just drag a bacon rind on a string through shallow ditch or creek and crawfish hang on. I had forgotten about Petey and had half a coffee can full before he slipped up on me as I admired my finest crawfish. As he tried to push me in the ditch, I dodged, swinging the big crawfish onto Petey. It grabbed a hank of his hair and hung on for dear life. You’d have thought it was a snake, the way he squalled like a little “gal” half the way back to Miss Laura’s house.

I snagged a few more before I made my way back with my can of crawfish, wondering if Petey had tattled, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“I brought you some crawfish, Miss Laura Mae.” She loved to put them in her soup.

“Bring ‘em here and let me see,” she said. “Ooh! That’s a pretty nice bunch. I think me an’ Petey might go back to the crick and get enough for supper,”

“That’d be good,” I said.

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