Off to reality

Late that night, we arrived at what would be my home, off and on, for two and a half years. My great grandmother's house, otherwise known as Gran. Gran couldnt read or write, and could only do very basic math. I don't think she every spent a day getting formal education, and she could not drive. She was also the smartest person I ever met.

Anyway, we arrived at Gran's pretty late, and slept outside in the car, so that we wouldn't wake her up. When we went in the next morning she fed us a hot breakfast and gave me a nice warm bath. She said that we could live with her, but her brother was living in the house, so we decided to live in the smokehouse out back.

The smokehouse was a small room, about 12 by 12 feet, built of wood planks. There was a queensize bed and a dresser that momma picked up at a yardsale, and Gran supplied us with blankets. There wasnt any electricity in the smoke house, nor running water, of course, so we went into the big house for eating, bathing and bathrooming. But there were chickens! The coop was raised off the ground about 4 feet, so I would sit under the coop sometimes and talk to the chickens. Those poor chickens knew everything that had ever happened to me, and I got a lot of comfort from their innocent little stares, except when they pecked my toes.

Momma soon got a job and Gran would take care of me most of the time, so I got to attend church for the first time. Since Gran didn't drive, we got up early on Sunday morning and ate, so that we could walk a mile or so to the church. I was very scared the first time I walked into the church, it was so big and there were so many people that just HAD to pinch my cheeks and smear red lipstick on my forehead. My first day in Sunday school, I got so scared that I threw up all over my brand new sweater!

Eventually, I settle down enough to get into a Sunday routine......eat, get dressed, sit on the porch swing and try VERY hard not to go play in the creek while Gran got dressed. After church, we would eat fried chicken and I would sit in the chair to watch "The Little Rascals" and "Dance Fever". Sometimes, as I learned to read, I would read to my Gran out of a Bible and she and I would talk about the stories in there. I really didn't understand much of it, but she was planting a little seed in my heart that would take many many years to sprout into a tree of faith.

My Gran was a real spitfire, too. She was a kind woman and would do anything she could to help you, but if you did something mean to me...well, you'd better just look out! Once after church, I was sitting in the chair, watching tv when her brother came in. He was very drunk, as usual, and got angry that I was watching tv when he wanted to watch a baseball game. He grabbed me by one arm and threw me across the room into a wall. My little old sweet Gran came into the living room and hit him upside the head with a big black frying pan. Uncle fell down and I thought he was dead, so I poured some water on his face to see if he would wake up. I knew that he was alive, though, because when I poured the water on him, he peed in his pants! He never bothered me again after that day, and Gran never had to hit him again.

Once for Easter, Gran got me two of my very own baby chickens, tiny black bitties that I named Snoopy and Charlie Brown. Snoopy died shortly after I got him, but Charlie Brown grew into a beautiful, red, black and green bantum rooster. Charlie was my best buddy, he would ride in the basket of my bicycle and follow me around the yard so that I could dig up bugs for him. Sometimes, after momma left for work, Gran and I would let him in the house so that he could clean up the biscuit crumbs off the floor, and then he would sit on my chest while I laid on the floor to watch tv. Eventually, some dogs killed Charlie Brown. I remember that we ate fried chicken that night, everyone but me. (I later found out that it was not Charlie Brown on my plate that night)

There were so many wonderful things at Gran's like the blackberry patch where I would hide and eat berries until I was purple and ran home crying with a tummy ache. There was an old magnolia tree that I would climb and hide to read for hours. And there was the man across the road who had Beagles.

I would go out with him sometimes to hunt rabbits with his dogs. I thought the baying of the dogs was beautiful, like music, until he quit hunting. I tried for awhile to hide under a tree with a laundry basket and jump out to catch a rabbit, but this just didnt work, so a neighborhood boy and I came up with a plan. We built severl homemade traps, and trapped rabbits ourselves. He was pretty softhearted, so I got the dirty work of killing what we trapped, but I also got to sell them to the neighbors for fifty cents apiece.

About a year after we moved to Grans, her brother died, and we moved into the house. This left the smokehouse empty. So, I filled it up with animals, snakes, possums, coons, you name it and I brought it home. Gran stayed out of the smokehouse, for sure.