Day 13 of being Thankful: I rode the bus 26 miles to school each morning and 26 miles home. After all students were picked up we were packed, three to most seats. Mr. Charlie McCall was my first bus driver. I remember him being a short, pleasant man who greeted me, Good morning blue eyes. Grades 1-12 all in the same small space for 26 miles. We were a loud bunch. Maw Maw was a cafeteria worker and she rode with us perched on the front seat, purse perpetually hanging in the bend of her arm. Her head swiveled like a hoot owl keeping an eye on what was going on. If she suspected someone was picking on me she would stand up and bring her little short self down the aisle, purse slapping the back of every seat. Those little black eyes would snap and she would bless out anyone who dared bully her little darling. I would be crippled with embarrassment. She didnt limit her body guarding to me. A bully was sure to feel her wrath. Maw Maw Lena did more work before she boarded the bus at 6:20am than most people do all day. She was sure to have a full breakfast prepared each morning after she fed the chickens and tended the garden. By the time she came inside the fire she had built had warmed the house. While she was in the cafeteria she could see the playground and more than once shot out the back door to call a mean kid down. She may come stand out on the stoop during candy recess and call me or another grand over to see if we wanted something sweet. She would stand there in her little white uniform holding that little black coin purse, all smooth and worn. It was magic you see, endless quarters compliments of sold hen eggs. After school she hit the ground running. She had supper to cook and clothes to wash. From under the counter the big wooden bowl appeared, always full of flour and a sifter to create those cathead biscuits. Mustard greens would be served with pork or squirrel. Ice cream was for later in the form of a coke float. We would sit in the living room building trotlines, snapping beans or shelling butterbeans. No idle hands in Maw Maws house. When the cousins gathered we slept in one room. Two beds divide us, both with so many quilts we could hardly breathe. In the summer Maw Maw would bring in the big Black Flag sprayer and tell us to cover our heads. She would fumigate the room corner to corner. I am surprised we lived through the night. On the weekend she would lower the quilting frame from the dining room ceiling and grandma Vallie, and all the aunts would gather to quilt and gossip. I could sometimes slip under the quilt top and listen to them chatter. The sun would shine through the patches of color, Paw Paws old shirt, someones torn dress, remnants from T.G. & Y. were cut in squares and triangles and stitched up, forming a Kaleidoscope on the vinyl floor. They always knew I was there because if the gossip got juicy I was told to leave. Maw Maw thought your mood was directly controlled by bowel movements. Anytime we acted ill or out of sorts she always took our face in her soft hand and looked us in the eyes. Have you da-doshed today? I never heard anyone else use that expression. I could ramble on for days about how hard she worked. She loved to dress up and go, go, go. She would swing from the vines like Tarzan and once the vine broke and she landed on her tailbone. Ouch! The most important thing about her is she made us all feel loved equally. I think that is a pretty hard task. I am thankful for my Maw Maw Lena Ruth Pecanty. She lived every day to its fullest, no regrets. She taught us to work hard and play hard, but never to slam the screen door.
Posted on: Fri, 14 Nov 2014 03:04:34 +0000
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