Storytelling

Lloyd and Too Little Too Late

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I just love this true family story, so I am sharing it again. I hope not too many of you have seen it. Many years ago, I had a Cousin Mavis, who’d inherited a really nice farm, together with her brother Beau, in an idyllic mountain valley.  She married Lloyd who greatly admired her farm.  They had a daughter, Sally.  Mavis quickly took issue with her husband’s carousing and tossed him out.  Quite willing and able to take care of herself, she continued to live happily on her farm with her brother Beau and Sally.  Beau did the majority of the farm work while Mavis taught school and kept the house running,   The three of them had a good life together, bumping along quite satisfactorily.  Beau never married though he was happy to keep company with a widow lady, saying, “No house was big enough for two women.”  In truth, I’m sure he felt he already had a wonderful homemaker who shared his expenses, a doting niece, and a prosperous farm he had no wish to divide. Her husband, Lloyd, was never quite reconciled to the divorce, realizing what a mistake he’d made in losing Mavis.  Though he never lost his penchant for women and drink, he bought land just across the road, building a house there so he’d have a chance to worm his way by into Mavis’ affections and be in his his daughter’s life .  Little Sally saw her father daily, just like he’d planned, but Lloyd made a point to keep an eye on what went on at Mavis’s place all the time.  Unfortunately, this gave Mavis a bird’s eye view of his social activities, not a wise move for a man seeking forgiveness from a wronged wife.  Despite his many raucous parties and interesting friendships, he was forever hopeful, lo these many years later, that today Mavis would welcome him back into her loving arms.  Whenever an unfamiliar vehicle drove up, Lloyd was sure to amble over to check the guest out.   The first time we visited her, Mavis said, “Oh Lordy, here comes Lloyd to see if y’all are my boyfriend.” Mavis, Beau, and Lloyd lived this way for more than fifty years, till the lovely Sally finally inherited both places, uniting them, as Lloyd had always hoped.

Miss Ruby and the Bagwells

The companionable thing about growing up in the fifties and sixties in the rural South was that everyone went to the same school and churches and knew everything about everyone.  The teachers at school taught your siblings and cousins and might have taught your parents. If a kid got in trouble at school you can bet his mama would be waiting for him with a switch even though our rural neighborhood had no phone service.

Once the women got the kids off to school, beds made, dishes done, wash on the line, and the beans on to soak for supper, they might have a little time to visit a neighbor for coffee before heading home to get the baby down for a nap, finish their afternoon’s work and get supper on the table.  I loved going to Miss Alice’s house.  She didn’t have kids, so she always made a fuss over us.  Instead of scampering off to play, we usually hung around long enough for her to offer us a snack.  Sometimes it was left over biscuits with butter and jelly or best of all, teacakes.  If I hadn’t been hanging around hoping for a teacake, I wouldn’t have heard about the scandal of Red Bagwell and his brother Floyd. They weren’t the sharpest guys around but got by okay on the little place where their parents raised them. Though they were in their forties, neither had ever married.  I always looked forward to hearing Red talk.  His consonants didn’t always work out.  The way he explained it, “I can’t sound out my rells.” Daddy stopped by one day when Red and Floyd were working on a shed.  Red put on a new door hinge and gestured to Floyd, “ Froyd, git me that rock.”  Floyd looked around, found a good-sized rock, obligingly brought it over, and propped the shed door shut.  Red gave it a kick and barked, “Not a rock!! A damned rock!” stomped over and picked up the lock where he’d laid it out on the ground.  My ears perked up anytime someone mentioned Red and Floyd. It seems Red had somehow snagged a wife.  The three lived in the family home, Miss Ruby fitting in well with the two brothers. She kept house, cooked, cleaned, slopped the hogs, and kept a nice garden.  The three were getting along fine.  She was a fine wife and a healthy-looking woman. Back then, healthy-looking meant she ate like a lumberjack and could wrestle a bear.   As time went on, it seems she was fitting in far too well with both brothers. One day Red rode in to town with Joe Jones to sell a load of turnips, but Floyd felt like he needed to stay home and work on the new hog pen.  When Red and Joe got home, ready for coffee, the doors were locked.  Red knew Ruby and Floyd were both home, because the wash was still on the line, the old truck was there and Floyd’s old dog was under the porch.  Floyd never went anywhere without Ol’ Blue.  Red beat on the front door.  No answer.  He checked the back door.  No answer.  He came back and hammered on the front door again.  Miss Ruby yelled out.  “Git on out of here and quit bangin’ on that door!  Floyd’s tryin’ to take a nap.”  Bewildered, Red squatted outside the front door, muttering to Joe, “umpin ‘oin on in ‘ere.”  Eventually, Floyd finished his “nap,” ambled on out to do chores.  The three did not have a cozy night.  Something like this might have broken up the relationship between most brothers, but Ruby saved the day.  When the feuding brothers got up the next morning, Ruby had eloped with Ol’ Blue and the truck.  As the brothers commiserated over the betrayal and bonded over their losses they worked things out.

Andrew and Molly Part 30

Shocked, they turned to see Aggie standing in the door behind them, shaking with anger. “What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you see what a blessing you have? I’ve lost all three of my children and now my man. If God was good enough to give me back just one of them, I’d be down on my knees thanking him. Molly, Andrew is a fine man. There’s no better farmer or blacksmith around. He was kidnapped and tormented by the Indians. He never forgot about you. You can make a life together. It don’t make no difference you made a life with the master while he was gone. That was lucky for you and left you a rich woman, but now you’re free to be with Andrew again. No man around could run this farm like he can. You need him and he needs you. It don’t matter none about that baby he brought in. You got two babies with Wharton, didn’t you?

And you, Andrew. You need to git over your anger at Molly. She’s a good woman and just done what she was made to do. You ain’t so much different. Any fool can see that baby is yours. You took comfort where you could, not knowing if you’d ever git home.

Your pride is hurt but you and Molly took vows that still bind you. The two of you and your young one’s are all I’ve got and I ain’t going to stand by and let you take that from me if I can help it. Now, sit down and talk this out. I can’t take no more loss.” With this, she turned and left.

I Love this!

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Andrew and Molly Part 28

Molly stared with fury at the reverend. “Perhaps you are right! This is not my child and his care has put me to a good deal of trouble. I already have three children. Out of concern for this nameless baby, I took him in but clearly he would be better off elsewhere. I’ll tell Rosemarie to ready him for travel and the two of them can go with you!”

“No! No! No!” protested Reverend Bennett. I can’t take charge. My wife is sickly and can’t care for a baby.”

“Rosemarie can care for the child. All you have to do is provide room and board and deal with The Assembly concerning Rosemarie. I will be glad to have both off my hands. My thanks to you.” Having had her say, she returned home and left the reverend sputtering.

Walking in her kitchen door, she snapped at Rosemarie. “Get yours and the baby’s things. You’re moving to Reverend Bennett’s. He’ll be expecting you.”

Rosemarie burst into tears. “I can’t stand that old man. Can’t I stay here?”

Molly’s anger made her cruel. “I guess you can go back to jail if you prefer. You can work that out with the Reverend and the Assembly. You need to hurry to get there before dark.”

In a few minutes, Rosemarie left with the baby and her poor few belongings. The children wailed at seeing them go. “Children, hush! I told you the baby was not ours to keep. The reverend is going to try to find his family. Wouldn’t you be sad if you lost your family?” This did little to mollify them.

Andrew and Molly Part 27

Late in the afternoon, Aggie walked to Bartles’ grave. Molly offered to go with her, but she wanted time alone.

Not ready to leave yet, the reverend lingered over tea. Having been raised Catholic, Molly had not attended the services of the Anglican Church. Though she’d met Reverend Bennett through her close association with the Bartles she’d never considered him her spiritual advisor, nor felt any particular need of an advisor. Aggie, in particular, was devout, and made it no secret that Molly should be attending services, especially for the sake of the children’s tender souls.

While Molly packed her things to hurry home to her children, Reverend Bennett asked to speak to her on a church matter. “Reverend Bennett, I am Catholic. My children were baptized in the Anglican faith because at their father’s request.”

“I know, but am concerned about the soul of the little one in your house brought back from the Indians. He needs baptizing.” Reverend Bennett pronounced.

“I suppose he does,” Molly agreed. “But he’s only been here a few days. I’m hoping someone comes forward once word gets around. Most assuredly his family will want him baptized in their faith.”

“I know a bit of your background.” said Reverend Bennett. Molly bristled at his tone. “ I understand Andrew brought this child with him when he escaped. Did he know who the child’s family might be?”

Turning to leave, Molly replied curtly. “I have no idea. You’d best speak to Andrew.”

Croc the Dog: A Hilarious Mealtime Experience

Our mastiff-lab mix came to live with us about seven years ago at the age of three at a svelte ninety pounds. Having no interest in body image or physical fitness once he moved into a childless home, he let himself go and started packing on the pounds. He eventually got up to a a roly-poly one hundred twenty-eight pounds. Though he continued to be proud of himself, we dreaded taking him to the vet. It wasn’t so bad if we got the portly vet, but the slim and trim vet fat dog-shamed us. I’m pretty sure she came close to mentioning our physiques, like dog like dog parent I guess.
we tried cutting back on the amount we fed him, but he begged for food incessantly .

After considerable suffering, I decided to can his food myself: one third each portions of lean meat, vegetables, and brown rice. The weight started to drop off. Over about three months, he’s lost twenty-eight pounds and is allergy-free. He gets a quart every morning and evening

.I thought you might like to see how my big dog Croc feels about his food. You needn’t watch the 4 minute 24 second video to get the idea. For the full experience, turn the sound up. He usually interrupts his meal half-way through to drink about a pint of water, not bothering to close his massive mouth before walking back to his food bowl, wetting four feet of kitchen floor en route. He never wastes a morsel of food, except maybe to get a smear on my white cabinet doors. He’s generally grateful enough after a meal to come kiss me.

Andrew and Molly Part 26

Rosemarie tiptoed in at dawn bringing the women boiled eggs, corn porridge and tea. She found them nodding at Bartles’s bedside. His noisy breathing had stopped. He was dead. Rosemarie sat her basket on the table, gently touched Molly’s shoulder, and tiptoed out.

Molly took Aggie’s hand, waking her to her loss. “He’s gone to God.”

Aggie sighed stoically. “What will I do without him?”

Molly returned. “What will we do without him? He knows everything about our places.”

As the women prepared the body for burial, they heard hammering as the men built a coffin. Soon the minister arrived to offer comfort and prepare for the funeral. The neighbors brought a funeral meal that included stewed squirrel, baked chicken, ham and roast beef. The table groaned under baked yams, beans, potatoes, squash, and tomatoes. Pies and cakes were too numerous to count.

Will and Aggie Bartles were good neighbors, held in high regard. There was not a family who was not a beneficiary of their kindness. Women bustled about the kitchen tending the table and tidying up. Men spoke in hushed tones, doing whatever chores they could, including chopping wood, harness repair, and replacing shingles.

The service was simple, scripture and a eulogy. The mourners ringed around the grave on the Bartles small acreage in view of the back door of the small, neat cabin. Aggie stood stoic and unweeping as they lowered the body into the grave.

Love in the Afternoon

I was careful not to disturb this pair as I don’t want to run out of lizards.