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.

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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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Miss Laura Mae’s House Part 7

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We could hear laughter as we opened the screen door. Miss Laura Mae and Miss Oly were dawdling over coffee when we walked in, tears running down their cheeks.

I stared, having no idea people could laugh and cry at the same time. “You ladies are having a great time. No don’t get up. I’ll get my own coffee. What in the world is so funny?” Mother wanted to know. They both took hankies out of apron pockets, wiping their eyes before cleaning glasses.

“It’s just so good to be together again after twenty-five years apart. Ory was just tellin’ me about her ol’ man comin’ in drunk an’ blackin’ her eye one night. Once he went to sleep acrost the bed, she took a bed slat to ‘im an beat’im black an’ blue.”

She gave me my biscuit as Mother shooed me out to my roost on the back step.

Miss Ory broke in, “Yeah, Harvey was a Holiness preacher but it didn’t keep ‘im from gittin’ loaded an’ chasin’ anything in a skirt of a Saturday night. After I beat ‘im, he was so sore he could’n’ hardly move the next mornin’when it was time for preachin’. He got up in the pulpit an’ said he’d been a’cuttin firewood an’ a tree fell on him. It was only the Lord’s mercy that saved him. I wasn’t gonna let him got away with that. I got up an’ testified askin’ to Lord to forgive me for tyin’ ‘im up in a sheet an’ beatin’ ‘im up so bad for tomcattin’ around.

I was gonna leave ‘im after that. I wasn’t gonna take no whoopin’ from no man, but his brothers come by after church. They was deacons an’ their daddy had been the preacher there till he passed. They said if I’d stay, they’d see Harvey did’n’ never lay a hand on me agin’ but I was still set on leavin’. Then all three of ’em’said they’d church me if I left, an’ I’d go to Hell. The little fellers was listening an’ set up a howl. ‘Don’t make my mama go to Hell!’

They was a carryin’ on so, I didn’t have the heart to git up an’ leave, with them a’scared I was ‘goin’ to Hell. No youngun ought to have to worry ’bout somethin’ like that.

They was good as their word. If Harvey got out ‘o line, they’d straighten ‘im out. Harvey was still a Heller,but he ain’t whooped on me ner the younguns no more an’ that’s all I keered about.

One time after we had a row, all of a sudden he calmed down an’ took me fish in’. We left the little fellers with his mama an’ walked down to the crick. He wanted to go out in his ol’ boat, even though he knowed I’d ruther fish off the bank. I could’n’ swin an’ I was a’scared o’water. He said he’d been gittin’ them fine white perch just off the point. I do love white perch. Anyways, when we got a ways out, he stood up an’ was a’rockin’the boat back an’forth till he tipped us over. I knewed he meant me to drown.

I heard later he was a’slippin aroun’ with that Garrett woman. I let his brothers know an’ they told him nothin’ better happen to me. Not long after that he had a stroke an’ needed me to take keer o’ him. Couldn’t of planned it better myself. He never was no more trouble to me, so it all worked out fine. I didn’ git churched an’ worry the kids, I still had my home, an’ Harvey could’n’ worry me no more. Things was peaceful after that, but I shore don’t miss puttin’on up with him ner makin’ them durn biscuits ever’ mornin’. I don’t aim to ever make another biscuit!”

To be continued

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Miss Laura Mae’s House Part 6

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“Kathleen, I hate to bother you, but Oly is comin’in on the bus Friday. Would you mind takin’ me to pick her up?” I listened in as Miss Laura buttered my biscuit.

“Sure, I’ll be glad to. Is that the one whose husband just died?” Mother asked.

“Yes, he’d been sick in bed a long time,” replied Miss Laura. “I was poorly when he died and couldn’t make it for the funeral, so Oly told me to just wait an’she’d come stay awhile after she got him buried. We never got to visit much. She was just a baby when she married an’ and I only got to see her once in a great while.”

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I was fascinated with the idea of a baby marrying and couldn’t wait to see her. Maybe we could play together. As I stood on the step with my biscuit, I was lost in thought. imagining a pig-tailed girl my age steeping off a school bus, the only bus I knew a thing about.

Mother pulled in at Mitchell’s Cafe out on the highway on Friday. We sweltered in the July heat as Billy and I tusseled in the back seat. Mother and Miss Laura Mae fanned themselves as heat monkeys danced on the pavement. Dust fogged in the open car windows as a long gray vehickle with a picture of a skinny dog pulled up.

“Here she comes!” Miss Laura Mae clutched her big black purse and heaved herself out of the car as the bus door opened.

I sat up and watched for a little girl in a wedding dress to emerge, but no one got off but an old lady in a flowered dress. Miss Laura Mae hurried over, catching her in a huge hug smashing their identical pushes between them. Her curly white hair was caught up in a hair net and she wore the same black lace-up old lady oxfords as Miss Laura Mae. The bus driver pulled her bag from a bin on the side of the bus. Mother helped her load it in the trunk.

“Kathleen, this is my sister, Oly.” Sadly, I abandoned my hope of a playmate.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Oly. How are you doing?”

“Oh, I couldn’t be better,” said Miss Oly. “I ain’t baked a biscuit since June 6th, the day my Ol’ man died!”

Miss Laura Mae and Miss Oly laughed out loud as Mother replied, “Oh, that’s nice,” as she cranked the car.

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Don’t She Look Natural

Aunt Ellie's Funeral
My mother was raised during The Great Depression. This is her story and illustration of her Aunt Ellie’s funeral.

The events surrounding Aunt Ellie’s death were a real treat for me since the two of us hadn’t invested much affection in each other. The wake was unforgettable with all its glorious food: fried chicken, peach cobbler, deviled eggs, bread ‘n butter pickles, dainties not seen outside “dinner on the grounds.” Sprinkled with carbolic acid, Aunt Ellie lay in a pine box stretched across two sawhorses in our living room. Folks tiptoed through, speaking in reverent whispers, “Don’t she look natural?” and “Ain’t she purty?”

Luckily for me, Mama couldn’t read minds or I’d have been eating standing up the next couple of weeks. She might ‘a been purty a hunnerd years ago, but I hadn’t never seen nothing “purty” ‘bout ‘er, bony and wrinkled as a prune, ol’ dry snuff ‘round ‘er mouth” Her ol’ crazy hair stuck up like a nest ‘a sting worms. She’d a skeert a person to death had if they’d ‘a met ‘er in the dark. Least she smells better dead.’

All the family came. The men sat with the body round the clock to protect it from the horror of desecration by varmints or house cats. Women-folk bustled in the kitchen, initially sharing woeful tales of death and illness, before branching off into ever-lasting business of child-bearing. New brides and rosily pregnant young wives studied snaggle-toothed old women, either dried-up and stick-thin, or walking barrels with pancake breasts hanging to their waists sure, they could have never been young or pretty enough to catch a man’s eye. In return, they were rewarded with horrifying tales of five-day labors and gruesome deformities, enough nightmares for the rest of their pregnancies. Folk sat around talking and parents weren’t quite as likely to run kids outdoors. Perhaps “not speaking ill of the dead” relaxed the old standby “children should be seen and not heard.” Old family stories were dusted off and embellished for the new generation. The best storytellers theatrically saved their best till the moment was right: Grampa Holdaway and his starving buddies roasting an unfortunate turtle over a campfire as they were marched to a Union Prison Camp in Illinois; Uncle George gored by a stampeding Longhorn cow; Daddy and Uncle Jim tossing cats and dogs off the roof of the Primitive Baptist Church during revival, making folks think the rapture had come. Kids hung on every word, never realizing their own great-grandchildren would beg for these same stories long after their ancestors were dust.

Ah, the funeral! Up till now, though I’d attended dozens, I’d never enjoyed the prestige of being a “member of the family,” though I knew the order of the funeral service by heart. The dearly departed lay in state on altar, surrounded by all the flowers the community could heap on them. The front pews were saved for “the family”, their grief showcased to best advantage. All eyes followed as they somberly took their places in the seats of honor. Strong men supported those most devastated, either by love or guilt, a topic of open debate by attendees. Following a eulogy so lovely the honoree couldn’t have recognized him or herself, the saddest hymns known to Christendom, and exhortations for the lost to mend their sinful ways. Next, the community filed by to pay their last respects, ostensibly leaving the family to their last private moments with their loved one. In fact, many intrigued guests filed back in and took their seats to see how the family “took it”, noting every utterance, cry, or wail to interpret at leisure for those unfortunate enough not to have made it to the entertainment. With any luck, mourners shrieked, fainted, rent their clothes, climbed in the coffin, confessed their sins to the corpse, or just generally made it worth the time it took to go to a funeral. Just once, I’d tried to join the line that circled back to see “how they took it” but Mama convinced me not to try that again. She usually towed me out the door to the home of the mourners to red up for the after funeral dinner and often left as soon as the family got back without even a bite of the luscious fried chicken or a crumb of chocolate cake. ‘Boy!! Was Mama mean!!’

Finally, finally, I was a fully qualified mourner, a member of the family, entitled to a front pew. Of course, Cousin Katie got the seat of honor, with that mean Johnny, right next to her. Daddy, Aunt Ellie’s only living brother was next to Johnny, then Mama, where she had a straight shot at me and John if we even looked like we might wiggle. For as long as I could remember, Margaret Lucille, the preacher’s little girl and Sarah Nell Bond had run up and down the aisles during church services as much as they pleased. Sometimes their mamas sat together and the girls giggled and played together, digging in their Mama’s purses till they were separated. Then they’d put their heads in their mama’s laps and go to sleep, showing everybody their bloomers. I’d always admired them, and one Sunday morning worked my nerve up to join them. As I leaned forward to slip off the pew, I felt a fearsome presence next to me and an iron grip on my arm. I looked up and Mama pinned me to the pew with a deadly look, shook her finger, and hoarsely threatened, “MAY YOU BUH!” I was never foolish enough to rock the boat to later to ask what “MAY YOU BUH!” meant, but it had to be terrible. . I’d never tried to roam during church again, but Mama still didn’t trust me. Years later,when I got the nerve to ask Mama what that fearsome phrase “May you buh!” meant she had no idea what she might have really been saying.

Sitting still throughout the long church service was usually torment, but today I made the most of being “a bereaved family member” and concentrated on looking sad and pale. I considered trying to faint but figured Mama would warm my britches up for me if I messed it up. I’d never kissed Aunt Ellie when she was alive with snuff in the wrinkles around her mouth and wasn’t about to start now, even if it would make a good impression. ‘That was just creepy.’ I hoped the neighbors didn’t notice how much Cousin Katie looked like a purple eggplant as she stood before the coffin, supported by my poor, skinny daddy. I caught my breath when Katie leaned over coffin to kiss Aunt Ellie. Thank Goodness, she didn’t flop like a fish in front of the coffin like a fish, thrilling the neighbors. I’d always enjoyed watching other people clown around at funerals, but didn’t want people poking fun at my family.

After the service, folks filed out to the cemetery for the graveside service, usually an anticlimactic postscript to the funeral: a brief message, a sad hymn or two, and a prayer, but today, Margaret Lucille livened things up a bit. She’d brought her beautiful colored baby-doll along for company, and decided to conduct a funeral of her own off to the side. As always, her parents pointedly ignored her behavior. I seemed to be the only one who noticed. Margaret Lucille dug a little hole in the soft sand nearby, buried her doll and sang along with Aunt Ellie’s service. In fact, she enjoyed the singing so much, she kept right on singing after everyone else was through. Her song only had one verse and no apparent tune. The longer she sang, the louder she got. Her daddy, Brother Sanders went right on with Aunt Ellie’s service, patiently raising his voice to be heard over Margaret Lucille’s caterwauling. Not to be outdone, she sang louder. Each time he raised his voice; she sang ever louder. After a few competing rounds, Brother Sanders gave up and concluded his service as Margaret Lucille enthusiastically sang on.

“OH! My poor little baby’s dead.

My poor little baby’s dead.

I ain’t never gonna see my pore little baby

No more! No more! No more!

As the service ended and mourners filed away from the grave, I looked backed, hoping Margaret Lucille had left the doll buried, planning a grave robbery. No such luck. That baby came straight out of the ground and went home with her. Of course, Mama dragged me home with her as soon as the funeral was over. That night in bed, the two funerals, Aunt Ellie’s and the beautiful colored baby doll’s replayed in my mind till I went to sleep. Even though I knew I’d seen Margaret Lucille disinter and reclaim her baby doll, I still had to go back to the cemetery first thing the next morning and check to be sure. I wasn’t concerned about Aunt Ellie.

Grandma’s Funeral and the Great Hat Feud

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I love this story my mother told me as a kid. I never met Grandma Perkins, who from all reports was an old war horse. Neither my mother nor my grandmother had a warm thing to say about her, so I feel no guilt in sharing this tale. Also, from what I heard, she had plenty of axes to grind with relatives she actually met, so surely she won’t bother with haunting me for speaking ill of her.

Grandma Perkins always said she loved a good fight. Well, she must have died happy, because she and her daughter-in-law had a whing-dinger going when she had a stroke and keeled over. Ruby Nell was a sweet woman and didn’t usually get into it with Grandma, but hadn’t been able to avoid her that day. Her sons, Dave and Harry, and their luckless wives, Ruby Nell and Ethel, had both built houses on Grandma and Grandpa’s place, so Grandma felt free “straighten them girls out” whenever they needed it. Ruby Nell was making pickles when Grandma decided to come over and straighten her out. If she’d given over, Grandma would have ruined the whole batch of much needed pickles. Enraged, Grandma threw a fit, had a stroke, and died on the spot. Of course, poor Ruby Nell felt awful.

Having been the object of Grandma’s temper many times, the other family members tried to console Ruby Nell, but she felt so guilty, she insisted she couldn’t possibly go to the funeral. Finally, her friends and family reminded her of how she been like a daughter to her, despite Grandma’s frequent fits. It could have been any of them that day. Ruby Nell had been the best of all to Grandma. Dave assured her, “Mama knew you loved her. You have to go to the funeral.” Then the clincher, “What will the neighbor’s think?”

After all this loving reassurance, Ruby Nell decided she had manage the funeral after all, but didn’t want to face the small-minded gossips to shop for a new hat for the funeral. She had a new, black bombazine that looked great on her, but she couldn’t show her face without a hat. Her friends, probably the same gossips she was hoping to avoid, showed up bringing all their best, hoping to spare her tender feelings. Hat after hat covered Ruby Nell’s bed: veiled black felts, sequined hats with feathers, cloques with wide ribbon bands. Though, Ruby Nell had never had access to such a plethora of millinery finery, she wisely chose the veiled, black felt, to best hide her tear-stained eyes.

Once Ruby Nell made her dowdy choice, her sisters-in-law Ethel and Maude, Grandma’s unmarried daughter descended on the delightful confection of frothy hats. Both immediately laid claim the loveliest of the lot, a forest-green fedora trimmed with a stunning green band and jaunty plume. It was unbelievable to find such a beauty on loan! They almost pulled it apart! Their argument got quite loud with Maude screeching “it ought ‘a be against the law for a fat little dishwater-blonde like you to be wearing a beautiful hat that, when I’ve got this beautiful red hair!” Harry got concerned about the neighbors seeing a “hair pulling” then and took Ethel out to buy her own new hat.

Smugly satisfied, Maude, proudly wore that gorgeous hat to the funeral. She was a vain woman, proud of her secretarial position down at the bank. Though the hats had been loaned to Ruby Nell, Maude scooped them up, taking them next door where she still lived with her father and recently deceased mother. Those lovely hats made appearances regulary over the next couple of weeks at the bank. Embarrassed in front of her friends, Ruby Nell finally had to have Dave go next door and collect them to be returned to her friends.

Don’t Start! Just Don’t Start

man with cigarGrocery shopping with Mother was a thrilling excursion. Until after I was three, Mother bought on credit at Darnell’s Store, the only store in our little neighborhood. Housewives danced around out of Old Man Darnell’s reach while Mrs. Darnell scowled from behind the counter. Her mean little Pekingnese ran out nipping at us every time we stepped in the store, seeming to prefer the tender legs of toddlers, while Mrs. Darnell snapped that he didn’t bite, even after he drew blood. Mrs Darnell’s bald spot was set off spectacularly by her frizzy-dyed black hair. Mrs. Darnell and that hateful little dog will always be burned in my mind as a witch and her familiar. Old Man Darnell always had a big brown stogie hanging out of his mouth, which I was convinced was a turd. Any urge to smoke died then and there. I could never ask Mother about the cigar since I couldn’t phrase my question without forbidden words. I would have had to substitute gee-gee for the much-admired doo-doo word my cousins tossed about so freely. Even, at three and a half, knew it wouldn’t do to ask why Old Man Darnell always had a piece of gee gee in his mouth.

Eventually, Mother learned to drive, freeing her from Darnell’s Store. She insisted on driving into Springhill, the nearest town with an A & P and a Piggly Wiggly. She had to agree not to spend more than twelve dollars a week, since “money didn’t grow on trees,” nor were we a rich two-car family. Unless Daddy caught a ride to work, on grocery day, Mother had to take him to work, come back home till the business day started, Attend to her business, then pick him up at the end of his shift. That was eighty miles of driving, not including in-town driving, all this in company of at least two and maybe three small children if Phyllis were not in school. A timid driver, Mother never went above twenty-five miles per hour and often pulled on the shoulder if she saw a car approaching. First we had to drive by Piggly Wiggly where Mother parked to read all the specials posted on on butcher paper in the windows. With that money-saving information firmly imbedded in her mind, off we headed to the A&P where her genius proved itself.

Piggly Wiggly

Piggly Wiggly 2
Before entering, Mother powdered her nose, put on fresh lipstick, combed her hair, then turned her attention to us. In the days before she “had so many children, she didn’t know what to do,” we were all dressed up. Mother was sure to remark later who she saw who “went to town without lipstick.” We’d be eating whatever was ten-cans-for-a-dollar, reduced for quick sale, or was on special that week. We always got a box of Animal Crackers to munch in the cart as Mother inspected every can, potato, and chicken for the best buy. When we’d start badgering her for cookies, candy, and cereal with prizes, she’d say, “Don’t start! Just don’t start!” While Mother was critiquing the chickens, I remember poking my finger through the cellophane into the hambones. I don’t think she ever caught me. No Kellogg’s Cornflakes for us. We got Sunnyfield, the store brand. Long after the Animal Crackers were gone, Mother finally let the bag boy load her groceries in the trunk. He needn’t expect a tip. If she had another nickel, it was going for the specials at Piggly Wiggly.

Not long before I started school, Mother unwittingly discovered a way to ensure good behavior the whole time we were in town. She’d say, “remind me to take you by the Health Unit to get a polio shot.” I was perfect till we passed the outskirts of town.

Onward to Piggly Wiggly, where she’d grab up their specials. Eventually, we’d head home with bags and bags of groceries: twenty-five pounds of flour, five pounds of dried pinto beans, a three pound can of shortening, twenty- five pounds of potatoes, five pounds of meal, three pounds of coffee, powdered milk, since it was cheaper. It seemed like it took a dozen trips to drag all those paper bags in. Invariably, a couple would break and have us chasing canned vegetables. She usually bought chicken, since that was the cheapest meat, but sometimes there’d be hamburger, roast or fish.

When I go to the grocery store with Mother now, I don’t get Animal Crackers, though I could if I wanted to. The other day were were headed into the grocery store when Mother laughed and said “Linda, will you buy me……?”

She does this as a joke every time we go in a store, now. As always, I answer back, just like she always did when I was a kid, “don’t start! Just don’t you start!” This particular day, an infuriated elderly gentleman heard the exchange, and inferred I was being unkind. I could have lost an eye before we made our explanations. It’s good to pay attention to what going on around you before opening your mouth.

He Ain’t Got No Morals

Mr. Sanger who taught the combined sixth and seventh-grade classes at our country school back in the 1960s must have been a frustrated preached. He went on and on about morals and the importance of doing the right thing.

One day at recess, a group of us were on the playground and happened upon a robin pulling a worm from the ground.

“Look at the bird pulling on the worm!” One of the kids exclaimed.

Ronnie Oaks shook his head as studied the bird. “Yeah, he ain’t got no morals.”

Who knows what he meant.