guest post.

He Flipped the Table

(This is a guest post from a friend who wishes to remain anonymous. I hope it gives you pause.)

The room was cold. Not cruel, just… indifferent.

White walls. Bright lights. The hum of fluorescent tubes. Not a chapel. Not a courtroom. Not Hell. Just a windowless, federally contracted execution chamber in the back of a privately run detention center in Texas.

The table was shaped like a cross. Not by design—at least, not officially. A long central plank padded in sterile vinyl, with two short extensions at shoulder height, each outfitted with broad leather restraints.

They laid him down with professional indifference. One guard to each limb. Strap, buckle, cinch. Left arm out, right arm out, body flat against the cold table— arms wide like wings, like surrender, like the very thing he had once been accused of defiling.

He hadn’t touched anyone. He hadn’t carried a weapon. He hadn’t shouted threats.

He flipped a donation kiosk in a megachurch lobby on Easter Sunday. Shattered it like a parable. Then spoke scripture calmly until security tackled him.

The officer who tackled him slipped, drew early, fired wildly. The second officer died instantly.

They called it felony murder.

The trial was swift. The defense was outmatched. The church offered prayers for the officer’s family. And then, quietly, for justice to be done.

It was.

The IV bag hung to his left. Clear. Efficient. The needle entered the inside of his wrist like a nail through open flesh. The nurse’s hands were gloved. His were not.

The straps at his wrists cut slightly into skin. Bloodless. But firm. Cruciform in silence.

A priest had been offered. He declined. The Bible had been offered. He declined.

Only one ritual remained.

“Any last words?” the warden asked. It was policy.

He looked straight up into the overhead lights. Not at the people. Not at the camera. Just at the light itself.

Then he said it:

“Dios mío, Dios mío, ¿por qué me has abandonado?”

No translation was given. No one asked.

The IV hissed. The line emptied. His arms, still outstretched, twitched once. Then stillness.

The technician marked the time.

He was dead.

Three days later, on a bright, clean Sunday, the megachurch was packed.

The new kiosk was reinforced glass, affixed to the floor. The collection bins were digital now. Swipe cards only.

The pastor wore a new mic. Security wore sidearms. A choir sang something upbeat and harmless. The sermon was on grace.

A child tugged at her mother’s sleeve during communion.

“Mama… who was that man? The one who flipped the table?”

Her mother hushed her.

But the question hung there, unanswered. Like a ghost. Like a seed. Like a curtain that never quite closed.

And somewhere deep in the crowd, someone quietly began to cry.

BERTHY HOPS A TRAIN(God’s Hillbilly Warrior Goes Yondering, Part 3 of 9)© Harvey Hughett

(This is a guest post by my friend Harvey Hughett. Please visit his facebook site, Musing Appalachia)

It was late spring of 1965 when my great-aunt Berthy embarked on her most daring adventure yet. She had always been a woman of action, never one to sit idly by when there was excitement to be had. So, when she heard the distant whistle of the train approaching Bulls Gap, she knew it was calling her name.

As part of her strategy to conserve money on the trip to Chattanooga, she planned on boondocking rather than paying for motels. She didn’t have relatives to stay with where she was going. She didn’t know it at the time, but this journey would be filled with unexpected challenges and enough mishaps to dissuade her from taking any other trips for a long time. But she did pick up new experiences, change some lives for the better, saw new scenery, and collected on the debt owed to her by Mrs. Gooch.

Shortly after her daughter, Nova, had joined the WACs and left home, she packed her bag, kissed her cats goodbye, and started walking towards where the train had to slow down near Whitesburg. She knew the train schedule and had two hours to get settled into place.

She hid in some bushes, and when she saw the train slowing down enough for her to make a move, she ran out from her hiding place and, with a deep breath and a quick prayer, leaped onto the moving train, her heart pounding with excitement. And so began the adventure of a lifetime, one that would take her from the quiet hills of East Tennessee to the bustling streets of Chattanooga. God’s Warrior was on her way to see Rock City!

Bertha’s trip wasn’t without some close calls. As she made her daring leap onto the moving train, her foot slipped on the gravel, and she almost lost her grip on the grab iron or handhold. For a heart-stopping moment, she dangled precariously, her legs flailing as she struggled to pull herself up and into the boxcar.
Just as she thought she might fall off; she managed to hook her arm around another metal rung and haul herself aboard the moving train. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Once she was safely aboard, she let out a breathless laugh, realizing just how close she had come to a very different ending to her adventure.

She laughed and waved when she saw two of Bryant Gulley’s boys throwing rocks by the railroad. They’d seen a figure jump onto the boxcar, but when Berthy waved at them, their eyes about jumped out of their heads in disbelief. They’d watched her near-miss and frantic scramble to climb onto the train but didn’t have a clue the crazy person was Aint Berthy until she waved. She knew the boys would tell their parents, and she’d have a lot of explaining to do.

The Southern Railway route from Bulls Gap to Chattanooga included several major stops. The train traveled through Morristown and Knoxville, a major hub, before continuing on to Chattanooga. The journey was very scenic, with landscapes parallel to the valleys and rivers of the Appalachian Mountains. Along the way, she made note of all the stops and slowdown areas for the train. She kept those in mind for the return trip.
After hopping the first train of her life, Berthy was energized to finally be off and adventuring again. She was a total mountain woman infused with mountain ways and a streak of wanderlust in her blood that most didn’t have. She was self-confident and afraid of nothing. Since she had been released from Knoxville’s Lions View Hospital, she was careful to keep a low profile and, for a while, backed off a bit on her preachings against sinning.

Nevertheless, because Berthy was convinced that she was a Warrior for God, she was obligated to move out of the shadows from time to time and do something more constructive than just sit in her mountain cabin and crochet and paint scriptural warnings on the backs of turtles and turn them loose in sinner’s yards. She loved “yondering.” Life was always more interesting when she was traveling.

The clackety-clack of the train soothed her in a way she didn’t think possible. Life was good!

Berthy was surprised to find two people in a corner inside the train car. At first, she was alarmed and grasped her petticoat to make sure that her sidearm, Hercules, was still within easy reach. It was a young couple huddled together. They looked up, startled, as Berthy settled herself on a crate. The girl, with tear-streaked cheeks, clutched her boyfriend’s hand tightly.

“We’re from Greeneville,” the boy explained. “We’re running away to Knoxville to git married. Her stepfather… he’s a bad man. He’s been trying to make her do things the preacher said she shouldn’t do.”
Berthy asked, “What are yore plans when you git to Knoxville?” The boy responded, “First, I gotta git a job so we can buy a marriage license and find a place to stay. Then, we’ll see what happens from there.” Berthy recommended that they change their plans and get married by a preacher first, then look for a job before they got into trouble.

She reached into her petticoat and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “You take this and buy yoreselves a marriage license. And make sure you get married proper with a preacher—a good one, not one of them fancy seminary-trained preachers. You gotta watch out for city preachers, they preach stuff they memorizes from books written by who knows who and preachin’ stuff they think up on their own. You need to find a good old mountain preacher, preferably one who cain’t read and ain’t very smart. When they preaches, they rely totally on God and not danged books what might be inspired by man. You shoulda have let Preacher Hughett over at Mohawk marry you up. He cain’t read, and everthing he says is inspired by the Almighty. He just repeats thoughts that God puts in his head while he’s at the pulpit. He don’t use his own words, which could mess up God’s message.”

Then, she handed the money to the boy and said, “I like you’uns ’cause you want to do the right thing, and I’m goin’ to help you sum more.” At this point, she pulled out her enchanted crystal. When the light hit it a certain way, it sparkled, and inside it were some lines that sort of looked like a cross. She’d gotten it years earlier from a granny woman who taught her how to use it to cast spells and put place hexes. She explained, “They’s bad hexes, and they’s good hexes. I call the good ones “blessing hexes.”

Berthy then extracted two gravels from a pouch in her petticoat, whispered a few words, and passed the crystal over them several times.

“Here, y’all take these,” she said, handing one to the boy. “Keep it close, and you’ll find a job. And you,” she said, giving the other to the girl, “stay true to God’s commandments, and everthang will work out well. You’ll find the happiness and peace yore looking for. But remember, no sinning before you get married, or the blessing will become a curse in yore life.”

The couple thanked her profusely, their spirits lifted by her kindness and the promise of a better future.
As the train chugged along, Berthy thought about her own journey. She was on her way to Chattanooga to collect a debt from an old neighbor and wondered what might lie in store for her on the tracks ahead.

Aunt Berthy had a secret she rarely shared because people thought she was crazy when she did. The people at the mental hospital in Knoxville didn’t believe her and kept her there an extra two years after she explained her special powers to them. She truly believed that she possessed a magical ability to see glimpses of the future. It was a talent passed to her by Granny Woman. She used it sparingly, knowing the power it held. As she gazed into her enchanted crystal, she saw a vision of the young couple, happily married and surrounded by children. Knowing she had set them on the right path brought her a sense of peace.
Aunt Berthy’s crystal had shown her many visions over the years, each one adding to her wisdom and guiding her actions. Here are a few notable ones:

During one terrible winter, Berthy saw a vision of a bountiful harvest in the coming year. She shared this vision with several local farmers, encouraging them to plant extra rows despite their doubts. Her prediction came true, and she picked up some credibility.

Berthy once saw a vision of a neighbor in distress. She went to their home and discovered they were struggling with sickness and financial troubles. She gave them some of her herbal elixirs, chopped some firewood for their stove, and fixed some cornbread and beans. When she felt they would be OK, she returned to her cabin.

In one of her more mysterious visions, Berthy saw a hidden treasure buried at the base of an old oak tree on the hillside not far from her cabin. She followed the vision and unearthed a fruit jar filled with silver dollars. She saved these to give to needy people and didn’t use the money for herself, feeling that God had directed her to the stash.

Berthy created special concoctions made of different herbs and plants that grew in the mountains and used these to help heal people. In their preparation, she used the crystal to bestow blessings on the contents of each bottle she prepared.

Another time, she was sitting in a rocking chair on her porch, holding the crystal, when it seemed to get warm. She held it to the light, peered into it, and a vision began to form. She saw a young woman, pale and weak, lying in a small, dimly lit room. The woman was coughing violently, and Berthy could feel the desperation in the air. Berthy recognized the woman as Effie Cobb, a Mountain Valley Church member known for her kindness. She had been sick for weeks, and the doctors had given up hope. Without wasting a moment, Berthy grabbed her pouch of herbs and remedies and set off towards Effie’s house.

When Berthy arrived, she found Effie’s mother sitting by her bedside, tears streaming down her face. “Berthy, I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered. “Effie’s gittin’ worse. The doctors say they ain’t no more they can do.”

Berthy nodded, her expression determined. “We’ll see about that,” she said, pulling out her enchanted crystal. She held it over the girl, whispering ancient words of healing. Then, she carefully administered the herbal remedy to Effie, who drank it trembling. It was a recipe that Granny Woman had shared with her.
“Rest now,” Berthy said softly. “And let the herbs do their work.”

Berthy stayed by Effie’s side for hours, watching over her as she slept. Slowly, the color began to return to her cheeks, and her breathing grew steadier. By morning, the fever had broken, and she opened her eyes, weak but alive.

“Thank you, Berthy,” Effie’s mother said, her voice choked with emotion. “You saved her.”

Berthy smiled, her heart swelling with relief and satisfaction. “Hit weren’t me,” she said. “Hit was God.”
….

Berthy hadn’t been on the train long before she needed to use an outhouse. When the train slowed on the outskirts of Morristown, she grabbed her pack and jumped out. The year before, a train had crushed a car at an intersection in downtown Morristown, and the city council passed an ordinance that required trains to slow down to 5 MPH in town.

When she hopped off, she was drawn by the colorful lights and lively sounds of a carnival. She made her way to the carnival grounds and quickly found a restroom marked for women. As she exited, she bumped into a familiar face.

“Wanda? Is that you?” Berthy exclaimed.

Wanda, a young woman who had run away from an abusive father in Bulls Gap, looked up in surprise. “Aunt Berthy! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” Berthy replied, her eyes narrowing. “I heard you run away from home. What are you doing here?”

“I’m in charge of the penny toss,” Wanda said, gesturing towards a nearby booth. “It’s honest work, and it keeps me busy.”

Berthy eyed the carnival skeptically. “You staying clean in the Lord, Wanda? Carnivals are full of sinning.”
Wanda smiled reassuringly. “I am, Berthy. I even meet with a Bible study group every Wednesday, along with some of the other carneys. We keep each other on the right path.”

Berthy nodded, satisfied with Wanda’s answer. “Good. You keep it that way.”

Wanda made Berthy promise not to tell her parents where she was because she was afraid that her daddy would beat her again and, this time, might kill her.

(to be continued)

If you like this story, you should scroll down my Facebook Page. I have nearly a hundred more stories from the same crazy family this one came from. I also have books for sale on Amazon. MUSING APPALACHIA: VOLUME 2: Wrestling with Life in the Flatlands.

This is a guest post by my friend Harvey Hughett. I just love his stories of Appalachia. Check him out on his facebook site Musing AppalachiaBERTHY SEES A SIGNGod’s Hillbilly Warrior Goes Yondering (Part 2 of 9)© Harvey Hughett

It had been a hard winter, and cabin fever was starting to set in for Aint Berthy. It was weeks before the garden needed to be planted. And the chirping of the birds was so loud that it was starting to drive her crazy. Mockingbirds were the worst with their never-ending attempts to one-up the other birds. She was ripe for another road trip, but not on a bus this time. She had enough of bus stations.

She cut down trees, chopped her own firewood, and walked everywhere. She was in top physical shape. It was while walking to Bulls Gap to trade some free-range eggs for sugar that she stopped in the road to let a copperhead snake slither out of harm’s way and into the ditch. She liked snakes and didn’t bother them. She even had a five-year-old copperhead living under her back porch steps, and they never bothered each other. She named it Clyde after Sherriff Clyde Snowden over at Morristown because he’d once backed out on his word to her about getting rid of some prostitutes who’d moved into a house down the road from her and were attempting to set up shop. In the end, Berthy had to fix that problem herself. After that, she didn’t have much use for cops.

As she stopped to let “Clyde’s friend” pass, she happened to glance up and saw a barn with a sign painted on the roof that said, “SEE ROCK CITY.” She took that for a message of some kind. Berthy strongly believed in signs and omens. She’d never seen Rock City, but the snake and sign on the barn probably weren’t coincidences. She paused and pondered the possible meaning of what she’d just witnessed.

It was at that precise moment she remembered that Old Lady Gooch, who used to live up the road, still owed her some money from eight years ago. She’d moved to Chattanooga and lived near Rock City (Lookout Mountain). So, that was it! She was destined to go to Chattanooga and collect on the debt while experiencing new scenery and meeting interesting people!

While in Bulls Gap, she picked up a train schedule at the depot, went across the street to Gilley’s Hotel, and bought an ice cream cone. She loved to eat ice cream and watch the trains come through. She’d imagine what the lives of the passengers arriving and departing might be like. She loved traveling and dreamed about taking a trip by rail herself someday. As she sat on a bench and studied the train destinations and fares, she noticed that a ticket to and from Chattanooga cost $28.65. She was appalled at the ridiculously high price.

As she was leaving town, she met a hobo and walked with him for a bit. She asked him about hopping trains and getting free rides. He explained that freighthopping was dangerous and illegal, but he did it all the time and had traveled as far as San Francisco several times in a boxcar. He stressed safety, timing, and location. He told her to avoid busy areas where there were bulls (rail guards) and heavy security and to look for unguarded spots where the trains had to slow down or stop. He described a curve just before Whitesburg where trains slowed to less than 5 MPH and, if one were lucky, he (or she!) could just throw their bag into the boxcar and hop on for a free ride to the next stop.

He advised her to choose an enclosed boxcar so she could hide and stay out of bad weather. He also told her how she could use an old rail spike to wedge the door partially open so she wouldn’t be locked inside. Once, he’d been locked in a week before someone heard him banging on the door and let him out. And he cautioned her to respect other travelers. He said that hobos just peed out the open doors. He remarked that he wasn’t sure how a woman would manage that but suggested that she respect the property and not mess it up because he might want to ride in that same train car someday.

During the next few weeks, Berthy practiced jumping onto the bed of a horse-drawn freight wagon in the back pasture until she could easily do it with a full pack.

She pre-loaded a WWII military surplus backpack she’d picked up at a thrift store with a change of clothes, a blanket, her bedside alarm clock (she didn’t own a watch), pokes for cornbread and venison jerky (a deer made a mistake and got in her garden), a bottle of Percy Medicine, and a few other odds and ends like her special crystal, potions, candles, matches, and…Hercules, her reliable travel companion. It was a small Harrington & Richardson snub nose revolver in the unusual .44 Bull Dog caliber. Not many stores carried ammo for the old gun, but Hasson-Bryan Hardware Store in Morristown had it. It had to have the headstamp of .44 B.D. and not .44 Magnum. But it blew a hole the same size. Berthy knew all this stuff and was a good shot.

She carried Hercules and her valuables in special pouches she’d sewed into secret pockets in her petticoat. That way, she always knew where they were. Concerning money, she devised a system of tying bills, coins, and jewelry into little pouches and attaching them to the petticoat with short pieces of string. For example, suppose she needed seven dollars and thirty-three cents to buy something. In that case, she’d excuse herself to a private place where she could lift her dress and extract a five-dollar bill from the pouch with that denomination and another small sack with other bills or coin sizes. In a way, she was a walking cash register. It was an excellent way to keep close track of her valuables and still get relatively quick access. She had a special pocket on the outside of her dress where she carried a small military-size Bible her husband had brought back from the Army.

When around her daughter, Nova, or her cute grandchild, Jan, she’d just whip up her dress and count out the money. She felt safe walking around with her treasures safely hidden in her dress. They served as a secure place to hide her precious belongings. Being a guy, she was discreet, so I never saw her lift her dress.

(to be continued)

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Ten Things We Do For Our Kids by Cordelia’s Mom

Reposted in honor of Mother’s Day.  Thanks Cordelia’s Mom.  Please Check out her wonderful blog

The Things We Do For Our Kids! Guest Post By Cordelia’s Mom

Posted on May 10, 2015 by

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

When you have a short break in today’s activities, check out my guest post over on Nutsrok:

Nutsrok

Cordelia CardI am so proud to that Cordelia’s Mom did this Guest Post for Mother’s Day.  Please check out her lovely blog.  You will love it as well.

It was the mid-1950’s.  I was in first grade.

Mother’s Day was approaching, and my teacher decided to have us all make noodle necklaces for our moms.  She brought in a variety of dry noodles, along with string and water paints – and wrapping paper.  I was so proud of my creation!  Mom was going to love  it!

On Mother’s Day, I watched my mother open her precious gift. She oohed and aahed, and put the necklace around her neck.  I was so happy to see her wear it that day – I thought it was the most beautiful jewelry she ever had.

My mother didn’t work (back then, few did). Her only recreation was going bowling once a week in a league…

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