The first thought I had when I woke up was it must be Sunday because I could smell the fresh apple pie baking. My grandmother on my mother’s side, Dude, worked six days a week as a clerk at the general store in Richards from 7:30 to 6:00 with a half hour for lunch. On Sunday morning, she baked. The fragrance from the kitchen was deliciously sweet. My grandmother’s name was Louise, but I hadn’t been able to pronounce that when I was little, so I had called her Dude-ese, and then shortened it to Dude. It stuck.
Daddy was already up, too. I could hear them talking in the kitchen. Dude called him her favorite son-in-law and used to say she thought he was coming around all those years to her house to play ball with her three boys… until the day he and Mama eloped.
For as long as I could remember. Daddy and Mama and I had lived with her in her small white frame house with the pond in the back yard and the pink crape myrtles growing in the yard. She called it her country place, but it was on one of the several dirt streets that made up downtown Richards. She didn’t have a car, she couldn’t drive one if she did, so she walked the one block rain or shine to the general store every day of her life. Daddy adored Dude.
Where’s the revival preacher from? Dude asked Daddy as she sipped her morning coffee.
Bedias, I think, Daddy said. They say he’ll be able to keep Miss Inez Wood awake.
That’ll take some strong preaching, Dude said. He’ll have to keep the volume cranked up the whole time or she’ll snore right through it.
Charlie Taliaferro has gotten up a men’s quartet for the special music this morning, Daddy added. Somebody said they were from West Sandy and did a lot of singing at the conventions on Sunday afternoons over there at Union Grove Baptist. That should be a good start to get the preacher going.
Daddy led the singing, and Mama played the organ during the regular services at the Richards Baptist Church. But the revival music had to be exceptionally good, since the preacher was from out of town. Revivals were major happenings when you lived in a town the size of Richards, Texas. Although the official town sign said Pop. 440, my granddaddy said that included dogs and chickens. Richards was bordered by the Sam Houston National Forest and buried deep in the piney woods of east Texas. Any stranger passing through town was usually lost.
My Uncle Marion was waking up now. When he was here, he slept in a twin bed at a right angle to the small double bed that Dude and I shared in our tiny room that was separated from the kitchen by an accordion plastic door. You really couldn’t call it a bedroom, except that it did hold two beds. It was mostly windows dividing the beds from the rest of the back porch.There was barely enough room for the dresser that held my grandmother’s Pond’s Cold Cream and makeup.
Uncle Marion was a fortune hunter in the true sense of the word. He went around the Texas countryside with metal detectors, looking for gold that had been deposited by Santa Ana or somebody. Between expeditions, he worked construction just long enough to collect unemployment so that he could come back home and look for gold. He was my favorite uncle. He knew the names of all the stars we could see from our windows at night.
Might as well roll out, he said, yawning. He looked to see if I was awake. Revival talk’s heating up and there’s no rest for the wicked, he added with a smile.
Okay, I said, climbing out of bed. Plus, Dude’s apple pie was calling my name.
Look what the dog drug in that the cat wouldn’t have, Daddy said as Uncle Marion pushed back the plastic accordion door. I didn’t know you were here.
Yeah, I got in late. We didn’t get paid until dark, and then it took a while to get here. Everybody was asleep when I got in last night, Uncle Marion said. He wasn’t fully alert yet and began trying to find his wire rimmed eyeglasses.
Morning, sweetheart, Daddy said to me. How’s my best girl?
Good, I said and looked at Dude. Can I have some pie?
She smiled as she cut me a piece and then put a little dab of butter on top. As it melted, she sprinkled extra sugar over it. She put it on the table in front of me and gave me a hug. Just for you at breakfast, she said as my Uncle Marion gave me a sideways look letting me know how lucky I was.
I’m fixing bacon and eggs and toast for the rest of you. No one’s going hungry. We’ll all need our strength for church today. They say this preacher really has the Spirit and won’t quit until somebody’s saved, Dude said as she gave my Uncle Marion a glance.
The Lord works in mysterious ways, Daddy said. And some ways take longer than others.
We all laughed at that. I thought Daddy was so funny. Just then, Mama came in and said hey to everyone. Mama wasn’t a morning person, she liked to say. Looking at her eldest brother she asked, Out of work again?
Hey Sis, he said, ignoring her question. You look like you could use a cup of coffee.
He got up and poured her a cup. She was about to sit down when Dude told her to go wake Uncle Toby for breakfast. He was always the last to get up. Maybe it was because it was such a struggle for him. He had been born with cerebral palsy. He had been able to walk pretty well when he was younger and had even worked for a few years on an assembly line for a big oil company in Houston, living there with Dude’s brother’s family. Last year a doctor had convinced him and Dude that he could be cured with an operation, but it had gone all wrong. So now he was back home in Richards living with us. Dude and Mama waited on him hand and foot. Every day he sat for hours listening to his radio on the Back to the Bible Broadcast. He worked crossword puzzles while he listened. Maybe the revival preacher could explain the connection between God and those puzzles. Maybe not.
Good morning, Sweet Papa T.B. la Tobe, said Daddy as Toby made his ponderous way into the kitchen. Daddy loved to tease him with his childhood nicknames.
Morning, all of you good neighbors, said Uncle Toby. Brother Marion, when did you get in?
He got in late, and he’s out of work again, I said. I had finished my pie.
That’s right, Uncle Marion said. Made it just in time for the start of the revival. Think I’ll head downtown to the drug store and see if it’s open before church. Toby, I’ll be back in time to get dressed and drive you and Mother to church.
He stood up and took his dishes to the sink. You’ll be late for Sunday School, Mama told him. I don’t see why you always have to go to the drug store before church.
Mama, you know he goes to get cigarettes and never makes it back in time to go to Sunday School, I said, stating the obvious.
You don’t have a dog in this fight, Sheila Rae, Daddy said. Leave it alone.
Yes, I know all about your Uncle Marion, Mama said with a shake of her head.
He gave me a quick wink as he walked out whistling. And I saw that, she said to his back.
The rest of the time before church everyone was taking turns in the tiny bathroom beside the kitchen that was so small you had to make a decision about what you needed to do before you went in because you couldn’t turn around once you were in there, but I didn’t want to complain because I hated to go to the two-holer outhouse next to the garage. We shared that with a wasp’s nest, and none of the wasps liked us. When everyone finished getting dressed in Sunday clothes, Mama decided Uncle Toby would ride to church with us because he didn’t want to miss Sunday School. Mama said he shouldn’t have to wait for a brother who was more interested in smoking cigarettes than learning scriptures.
Daddy helped Toby get in the back seat of our ’52 Chevy. I sat between Daddy and Mama in the front. We drove up the hill to pick up Miss Edna Kelly and her sister, Miss Lonie Fulghum. We picked them up every Sunday. Daddy helped them get situated in the back seat with Toby.
Thank you, Glenn, Miss Lonie said. You’re such a gentleman. Good morning everybody, and a happy revival Sunday to you all.
Miss Lonie was always cheerful and smiling like that. Everybody at the church liked her. Miss Edna was just the opposite. Never said much and frowned a lot. They didn’t look anything alike, either. They had moved to Richards a long time ago, and nobody knew anything about their people. They said they were from Alabama and that Miss Edna’s husband had died in the war. That’s why they had different last names.
Mama said it was odd.
The car conversation was all about the excitement of the revival as we drove the short distance to the church.
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Please stay tuned for the rest of the story.
I'll Call It Like I See It 