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Hard Time Marrying Part 16

Anya lay awake a long time thinking after Joe went to the barn and the kids slept, the baby snuggled up warm and sweet in the curve of her body.   In his rope bed near the fire, the boy cried out for his mama in his sleep and whimpered without waking.   Anya went to him, smoothed his hair and rubbed his back till he went back to sleep.  His warm little hand sought hers and she felt stirrings of pity for him, even though she tried not to.  She’d already lost the battle of staying detached from the little girl, and was beginning to wonder if she could take the poor motherless thing when she left though she saw the folly in that.  She had no friends, nowhere to go and no way to care for the child. Not only that, she might have killed the peddler.  The law was hard on a woman.  They might be looking to hang her right now. She needed to get far enough away to disappear in a sizable town. The baby would just hold her back. A woman alone would have a hard enough time providing for herself, even if she had nothing to hide. She had to get as far away as possible and seek work as a housekeeper or cook, since that was all she knew.  Having barely been to school, she couldn’t be a schoolmarm.  She’d had enough of men to know she’d never marry.  She needed to get to town where folks had enough money and house to need help. Her prospects were poor, but maybe when she got to Meadow Creek Church she’d meet up with somebody who could help get her on the road to something else.  It would break her heart, but there’s no way she could take the tiny girl.

Out in the barn, Joe was thinking his own gloomy thoughts.  He didn’t want Anya to go.  He started to hope she might stay and they could be a family.  Even though Anya hadn’t warmed to him, he’d gotten a little taste of family watching her doing for the baby and doing about the house.  It had been such a pleasure to come in last night and find supper laid out.  No one had done that for him since Ma died.  When Anya left, he and the boy manage, but who would do for the baby?  She was far too young to go around with him while he worked.

 

Hard Time Marrying Part 15

!fireplace-3She had supper ready when Joe and the boy came in.  She’d laboriously managed to cook beans in a cast-iron pot hanging over the fire and baked cornbread and some sweet potatoes in the coals, pleasant work she was accustomed to.  Joe’s brows lifted when he saw supper and bowls and cups out on the table.  She crumbled cornbread in a cup and Joe poured buttermilk over it for the baby before lifting her to Anya’s lap.  They all fell to with an appetite. 

“My name is Anya, not Anna.  I’ll stay and earn my keep till I can manage, but I ain’t no whore.  Don’t come sniffing around me.  I don’t want to owe you nothing.  I’m gittin’ better so I can do for the baby and tend the house, but you need to keep the boy with you.”  She looked him fiercely in the eye.

Joe looked her and raised his voice.  “I’ll thank you to call me Joe.  Don’t you think I could’a already done hurt you if I’d wanted? I don’t want nothin’ more from you than you take care of yourself and the baby.”  He dropped his voice, speaking more to himself.  “I been getting along without a woman for a long time, but I ain’t fell so low I got to take up with a stringy, beat-up neck bone like you.”

Poor Joe was unaware her hearing had improved and was surprised to have a hot sweet potato hit him in the jaw.  “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head,” she warned him through clinched jaws. 

“Yes, ma’am.”  He muttered.  “Beggin’ pardon, ma’am.  No call for me to be spiteful.  We are both in a pickle and battling ain’t gonna help.”

“You keep to your place and I’ll keep to mine till I can do better.”  The tension eased a bit now they understood each other.

They passed the evening watching the children at their play.  Joe had brought them a kitten from the barn.  The boy teased it with a bit of string, delighting the baby girl.  Joe and Anya caught themselves laughing at it a time or two.

“What’s the boy’s name?”  This was the first time it had occurred to her to ask.

“I don’t know.  I just been calling him boy.  His mama was sick when she got here and never told me nothing.  She died the next day.”  He stared into the fire.

“You mean these ain’t your young’uns?”  She was incredulous.

“No, I don’t know nuthin’ exceptin’ their mama up and died soon’s she got here.  I’d send ‘em back to her folk if I knew who they was.  She come with nuthin’ but my letter, a bundle of clothes, and these young’uns after I wrote off for a wife. I buried her out in the mesquite and tried to take the kids back to Talphus fer the town or the church to do for ‘em and them miserable bastards run me off like a scalded dog.  When I got back after doing chores that night, you was up in the house lookin’ at the baby.  I thought I’d done buried their mama alive.  It warn’t till just now the coyotes dug her body out of the grave till I knew you warn’t the woman I married.  Oh, Lordy.  I don’t know why I ain’t left well enough alone.”

 

Mrs. Johnson Copes

During my dialysis nurse days, I became very fond of Mrs. Johnson, an elderly lady who was a frequent admit to the hospital. She remained matter-of-fact, even when very sick. I expect Mrs. Johnson had had occasion to learn complaints availed her nothing.

Her father had married her off to Mr. Johnson, a man in his thirties, when she was only thirteen. Over the years she gave birth to twenty-one children. “It wasn’t so bad,” she explained. “I was only pregnant nineteen times. I had two sets of twins.”

“Mr. Johnson beat me all the time.” She said.”I was so glad when he had a stroke an’ I could beat him. I beat him ever’day after that.” .

I surmised Mrs. Johnson suffered in relationships with her children as she was careful to bring her purse with her to dialysis. “I don’t nobody gitten’ my money. I got a bunch of wuthless kids.” She also used that enormous black purse to hide away her snuff. For those of you who don’t know, snuff is smokeless tobacco to be tucked in the cheek, then spat into a cup, not swallowed. It’s a nasty habit I made a point to ignore, inferring Mrs. Johnson’s life had held too little pleasure.

Though I made a point not to acknowledge the bulge in Mrs. Johnson’s cheek nor her spitting, I made sure I knew I always had a pocket full of gloves and knew where that spit cup was at all times.

Ader’s Place Part 6

Mettie was abandoned by her mother, Cynthia, as an infant, leaving her with her own mother.  Though divorce was almost unheard of at that time, Cynthia was twice-divorced. Her father went on to remarry and took no responsibility for her.  He only visited her once, when she was the widowed mother of seven. Late one night, Mawmaw told this tale of her early years, the only time I ever heard this.

“I jist turned nine years old, ‘bout the age you are now. Me and Ma had picked some beans in the cool a’the mornin’ an’ I was a’helpin’ ‘er git ‘em ready fer canning. Ma set down in her rocker to rest jist a minute an’ I was a’playin’ with my kitten. I was glad she was a’sleepin’ a while since I didn’ want’a mess with them beans no how. After a spell, I saw Ma’s head was kinda hung to one side an’ spit was a’runnin’ out’a her mouth kinda foamy. She wouldn’ wake up. I got up to run over to git Miz Jone’s an’ seen there was a fire between our place an’ hearn. There warn’t nothin’ to do but run through it the best I could. Them flames was a’lickin’ at my feet an’ I was jist a’cryin’. I got Miz Jones, but it ain’t made no difference. When they got over to see ‘bout Ma, she was dead. They sent for Uncle Jeb to git’er buried.

I had to go to Uncle Jeb’s, then. He was awful good to me, but Aunt Lottie was jist hard down. She whooped on me ever chancet she got, an’ they was plenty. She made shore I ain’t done no sittin’ aroun’. I married soon’s I could, jist to git outta her way.

I never really had no home after Ma died.  I knowed Aunt Lottie didn’t want me around ‘lessen they was work to be done.  She’d put me out to help a woman that was having a baby, help with the canning, or help with the sick.  I never seen no pay, just worked for my keep.  Sometimes my mama would get settled and send for me, but I had to stay out of the way of her man,  so back I’d go to Uncle Jep and Aunt Lottie, till she could put me off on somebody else.  It was hard times for sure.”

Opelousas, Louisiana: Heartbreaking Scene of Man and Dogs in Pouring Rain

I saw a disturbing site yesterday that still preys on my mind. In Opelousas, Louisiana we saw a man holding a panhandling sign in the pouring rain. I held no animosity toward him, since he likely suffers from addiction or mental health issues. I was disturbed that he held a drenched dog on a leash at his side. He hadn’t provided the dog a box or blanket for shelter. A few yards away next to a highway marker, a woman restrained three other drenched dogs, none covered or sheltered.

A large live oak that would have well-sheltered them all stood a couple of hundred yards away. A large shopping center with multiple covered areas stood directly across the busy highway. I was bothered for the poor people standing in the rain but can’t get those dogs out of my mind. The people were restrained by their minds but the dogs by people with leashes.

My heart was aching but I didn’t know what to do.

Passing the Hat

Sometimes in the hospital we’d get a patient so mean, obnoxious, and demanding that it seemed their only virtue was serving as a bad example. We got an Katrina evacuee who was the worst I ever saw, He verbally and physically abused the staff as much as he was physically able. A rabid racist, mysogynist, and homophobe, it required finesse to assign caregivers who could tolerate him. Out of compassion, his caregivers rotated his care in four hour shifts. Several times, security was called. Unfortunately, it took a while to get him stable enough to demand an “Against Medical Advice” discharge.

That didn’t solve the problem that his return could be anticipated, since he was just barely able to get around. He would be obtaining illicit drugs the minute of discharge, he assured us. However disagreeable he was, he was competent. Of course, the staff was united in wanting to get him back to New Orleans, his home. He swore, if he ever got back, he’d never leave. That was enough for the delighted staff. We passed the hat, raising more than enough for a meal and one way ticket to New Orleans. A happy orderly wheeled him out to the curb where he was met by a cab. It was a great day!

A Soft Place to Fall

Dana and Bill lived across from us for years.  Their two kids, Betsey and Greg hung out at our house a lot.  Betsey was our daughter’s age and Greg about three years younger.  He hung out with the girls or me and Bud.  He was a witty, cute kid and we liked having them both around.  Dana, a psychiatric nurse, worked nights.  She was a card-carrying mean drunk.  Even if they were allowed indoors, they were only allowed to eat a pre-determined amount of food since she didn’t want them to get fat. She had locks on the cabinets and freezer. Of course, they were always hungry and ate with us. Much of the time, she locked the kids out so she could sleep. Bill, also an alcoholic, was totally whipped and didn’t protect the kids. 

One afternoon, Greg rushed over to the house.  “Don’t let my dad get me!  He’s gonna beat my ass!  Greg disappeared into the bathroom with his dad close on his heels.  Bill pounded on the back door and tried to push in past Bud with a belt doubled up in his fist, none too steady on his feet.  Had he thought ahead, he’d have realized that was a bad idea.  Bud had four inches of reach and forty pounds on him, but Bud stayed calm.

“I’m coming in for Greg.  Dana said I gotta whip him.  Him and the Bailey kid got in the beer.  His mama told him what was gonna happen if he got in the beer.”  Bill looked shamefaced, his heart not in his errand.

“Now hold on.  I can’t let you go in my house and beat a kid.  There are better ways to handle this.” Bud told him.  “Go back home and sober up.  Looks like y’all have both had plenty of beer.”

“Alright, I won’t come bustin’ in over you, but I’m gonna beat his ass when he gets home.” Bill offered.

“I’d think real hard about that.”  Bud told him.  “If you do that, you’ll have to deal with me.  Go on home.  Your boy can stay here till you’re sober and we’ll talk about it.”  Bill left, seeming somewhat relieved at not having to deal with anything he’d stirred up.

Bud called Greg out.  “Greg, you know you’re not old enough to drink.  I wouldn’t let you drink either.  You can stay here till I talk to your Dad and it’s safe to go home.”

The next day Bill came over and talked to the three of us, Greg, Bud, and me.  “Dana said  he can come home, but he’s going to Pine Hill.  (Adolescent Psychiatric Facility)  Get your stuff, boy.”

Bud asked Greg.  “Is that what you want to do?”

“No sir.  Can I stay here a few more days?” Greg asked.

“That’s between you and your dad.  What do you think, Bill?”

“I gotta talk to Dana.  She’s still pretty worked up.”  Bill answered.

Greg stayed, not causing a minute of trouble.  We weren’t foolish enough to think the problem was solved.  We just wanted him safe.  Four days later, Dana came to see Greg.  “Do you want to come home?  We miss you. You’ve been punished enough.”

“Am I still in trouble?  Dad ain’t gonna whip me is he?  I don’t  want to go to the hospital.” Greg looked worried.

“No. I promise.  Dad ain’t going to whip you and we aren’t to put you in the hospital.  Just stay out of the beer.” She told him.

He went home to an apparently peaceful house, for the moment.

Over the next couple of years the family dynamics changed, not by choice.  Dana got cancer and didn’t live long.   She was heavily medicated and continued to drink, so her involvement was less each day.  When she got too sick to work, they had to find a cheaper place to live. The children grew up and we lost touch, except for a time or two.  The last I heard, Greg was doing well enough to move out on his own.  Betsey was in and out of a couple of relationships, but eventually settled down, married,  and had a couple of kids.  The last I heard, she was going to nursing school.I hope for the best for these kids.

Just Folks Getting By Part 2

Good baby0002Photo of my great-grandmother, Sarah Jones Perkin’s, still born baby circa 1900

For some reason, Lucille had always loved washing dishes.  After breakfast, she stacked the dishes in the dishpan, added the soap, ran scalding water over them, and brought a glass of milk and a cup of coffee to Jenny where she was nursing the baby on her shady front porch.  Jenny had been married seven years and had almost given up on a baby when Lucy surprised her.

“Thanks for the milk, Mama.  Did you have trouble getting pregnant like I did?” she asked.

“Lord, no!  I had Jimmy only ten months after I married, and me only fifteen.” she laughed.”  After that, I think I miscarried twice before I got that way with you.  Back then, we didn’t run to the doctor for every little thing, so I never was sure if I lost babies or not.  I couldn’t have been too far along, if I was.  We was about to starve, so my curse wasn’t real regular.  You didn’t come along till five years after Jimmy,” Lucille reminded her.

“I never knew you were that young when you got married.  Why, you couldn’t have even finished school.  What was your daddy thinking letting you marry that young?” Jenny was feeling protective of her own sweet baby.

“Honey, my daddy was was the reason I needed to git married.  He was a mean drunk.  My mama died when me and my twin sister Velma was about ten.  Seemed like he never got tired of beatin’ on her.  He’d come in drunk long after we was asleep in bed like a ragin’ bull.  We’d learnt to hide and Mama took the whuppin’.  I really think a beatin’ is what finally kilt her.  He come in and whipped her and kicked her around real bad one Thursday night.  She crept around three or four days till she died with the most awful black blood comin’ from her bowels.  Nobody never said nothin’ to him.  It was a man’s business if he felt like beatin’ his wife.

Daddy started in on me and Velma after Mama died.  We made sure not to get caught off alone with him or he’d a’done us some real dirt.  I met your Daddy when I was fourteen, but I let him think I was a lot older.  Me and Melba was stayin’ with Aunt Lucy by now.  That’s Mama’s sister I was named for.  She was so good to us.  I slipped out one night and went to the pictures with Russ.  I feel bad now about doing Aunt Lucy that way, now, but you know how boy-crazy young girls is.  I sat with him a few times at church, and he got to coming to see me at Aunt Lucy’s.  We wanted to gut married, but Aunt Lucy said I’d have to git Daddy to sign for me.  I wasn’t about to go to Daddy for nothin’.  The next Friday morning I skipped school and run off with Russ to Oklahoma.  His sister was an old friend of my mama’s.  She knowed how bad Daddy done Mama and knew I needed to get away, so she went with us and signed like she was my mama.  I always ‘preciated her doin’ that.  I left Velma a note tellin’ her I’d run off to got married so they wouldn’t think somethin’ awful had happened.  Lordy, I never meant to gab so long.  I got to git back to them dishes.”  She heaved herself to her feet and headed back to the kitchen.

Jenny caught her by the hand. “Mama, I’m real proud you came to stay awhile.”

“Me, too, Honey.  Me, too.”

 

Hard Time Marrying Part 16

Anya lay awake a long time thinking after Joe went to the barn and the kids slept, the baby snuggled up warm and sweet in the curve of her body.   In his rope bed near the fire, the boy cried out for his mama in his sleep and whimpered without waking.   Anya went to him, smoothed his hair and rubbed his back till he went back to sleep.  His warm little hand sought hers and she felt stirrings of pity for him, even though she tried not to.  She’d already lost the battle of staying detached from the little girl, and was beginning to wonder if she could take the poor motherless thing when she left though she saw the folly in that.  She had no friends, nowhere to go and no way to care for the child. Not only that, she might have killed the peddler.  The law was hard on a woman.  They might be looking to hang her right now. She needed to get far enough away to disappear in a sizable town. The baby would just hold her back. A woman alone would have a hard enough time providing for herself, even if she had nothing to hide. She had to get as far away as possible and seek work as a housekeeper or cook, since that was all she knew.  Having barely been to school, she couldn’t be a schoolmarm.  She’d had enough of men to know she’d never marry.  She needed to get to town where folks had enough money and house to need help. Her prospects were poor, but maybe when she got to Meadow Creek Church she’d meet up with somebody who could help get her on the road to something else.  It would break her heart, but there’s no way she could take the tiny girl.

Out in the barn, Joe was thinking his own gloomy thoughts.  He didn’t want Anya to go.  He started to hope she might stay and they could be a family.  Even though Anya hadn’t warmed to him, he’d gotten a little taste of family watching her doing for the baby and doing about the house.  It had been such a pleasure to come in last night and find supper laid out.  No one had done that for him since Ma died.  When Anya left, he and the boy manage, but who would do for the baby?  She was far too young to go around with him while he worked.