POLISHED MAHOGANY

Proverbs 14:13     Even in laughter the heart may ache, and joy may end in grief. 

Polished Mahogany was a hero in the neighborhood where I grew up.   She could make anyone laugh.  “Laughing clears your sinus, darlin’,” she would cackle, “Everybody knows that we need to clear our heads occasionally.  There is nothing better than a good old knee bending, back breaking, snorting laugh to clear the sinus.” 

Auntie M, as we called her, was in her late seventies, never kin but I felt as if she were family.  She lived next door to me while growing up and I was at her house as much as my own.

Polished Mahogany was an artist.  She could paint anything, and she did.  At least once every three months she would change the décor of her house.  “They are speaking to me, darlin’.  Telling me I need more color in my life,” she would say and then lie prone on her stomach with her arms stretched above her head waiting to receive the vision and meditate with the voices she often heard.

Upon receiving her message Auntie M. would be a bundle of energy.  She would seek out all the children in the neighborhood and declare, “Go to the back room, find my box of exotic beads in the back of the closet.”  Or “Quick, find my paint brushes, we need to paint.  Hurry before I lose my vision.”  We would scamper everywhere gathering up supplies before the mood was lost.

We always loved what she painted, and the stories she told, but not our parents (although they would not say anything for fear of losing the best babysitter they ever had). 

“Children are my inspiration,” Auntie M. would tell them. “You can’t make things look good without children around.  I breathe in their energy and glorious things happen.”

Once she painted the house’s interior fuchsia and orange with lime green and purple geometric accents.  Another time she was in a “Picasso” mood, and we painted murals on the walls that looked like Picasso’s ladies, all triangular and out of sorts.  Then there was the “melancholy, monochromatic” mood. The entire house was painted shades of purple, both inside and out.  Every room and every piece of furniture was purple.  The dining room had purple curtains and a purple shag rug.  There was a purple glass table with grapes on the purple iron legs and purple plaid cushions on the seats of the purple chairs.  Even the plates, glasses and silverware were purple.  The kitchen had purple counter tops and cabinets as well as a purple sink, stove, and refrigerator.  Bless her heart, she even dyed her blond cocker spaniel purple and called her Grape.

 My favorite was the time she created a rain forest. 

Trees suddenly began appearing on her outside porch columns and all the rooms had a jungle décor complete with all the animals and snakes.  We neighborhood children loved running through her rain forest house searching each nook and cranny for treasures waiting to be discovered.

Once, Auntie M. disappeared for a week or so and we assumed she was visiting family or on vacation.  Or, just in a mood to disappear.  When she returned, she quietly gathered us around her and said, “Today we must paint everything black. Dark times are ahead,” she whispered.  We didn’t understand but we did as she suggested.  We gathered the supplies needed and began painting the walls and ceiling of her favorite room since she decided that was the only room that needed this gloomy decor.

 When all was done, she insisted we hurry home and dress in our darkest clothes. She handed each of us a note for our parents as we left.  We were to meet her in this special room after supper, with our parents.  

We found Auntie M. lying still in the middle of the floor in the darkened room, lit candles surrounding her angelic body, completely shrouded in white silk.  She had painted an altar on the wall.  

There was a note.  “My darlin’ children, I have gone to the great artist in the sky and shall not see you again until you reach heaven.  Never lose your inner child. I love white calla lilies, darlings.  Don’t be sad, rejoice in my life well-loved and lived.

 Kisses till the beyond, Auntie M.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

BONNIE BRADY                                                                                                                                   

It's rodeo season here in Houston.  Thought I should share this story.                             

                                                                                                         

Bonnie Brady is a good ole’ Louisiana girl, born and bred.  As a child, she had trees to climb, creeks to explore, secret places to hide under the canopy of pines and most importantly, horses to ride.  Bonnie loved horses; in fact, she was given one as her first birthday present by her grandfather.    She grew up on horses riding as often as possible.   When she couldn't sleep at night, Bonnie would walk out to the pasture and just lie on the back of her favorite horse, staring at the stars, telling secrets to the moon.  Sometimes her mother would find her stretched out on the horse reading under the shade of a tree. 

She was raised by a single mother and knew next to nothing about her father, often wishing he could be around.  She shared this secret dream with the moon and her horse, Goldie, on those nights when she was restless and unable to sleep. 

Bonnie loves everything Louisiana.  In fact, she has a small tattoo of a crawfish in a gators mouth on her left arm and one in the shape of Louisiana on her right – got it one time in New Orleans at Mardi Gras, against her mother’s wishes.

When Bonnie was ten, her mama shared how she used to be a barrel racer and followed rodeo circuits.   She took her to rodeos in the area, especially Mr. Ted Johnson's in Hineston, Louisiana. 

As she grew older Bonnie’s friends would gather at a friend’s farm and ride together in the Grand Entry.  Once she even got to carry the American flag.  By the time Bonnie was fourteen she was barrel racing just like her mama.  It became her passion and, besides, it attracted boys, good old cowboys.  Strong muscular cowboys.  Muscular, bull riding cowboys.   I don't know which she loved most, the bulls or the cowboys riding the bulls, but Bonnie loved that part of the rodeo the best.   

This worried her mama; afraid her daughter was following in her footsteps.

The dream of any cowgirl following the circuit of rodeos is to be the Rodeo Queen.  When Bonnie was seventeen her dream was fulfilled.  You would think she was Dale Evans the way she strutted around on her horse waving to the crowd.   Yet, she was unhappy.  She wished for her daddy to see her.

  She questioned her mama about him.  Bonnie’s mother just said that her father worked offshore before he died.  When Bonnie inquired as to why there weren’t any pictures of him, she gave mysterious answers.  The only information Bonnie ever really knew was that it was a short marriage.  

It wasn’t until she secretly went through her mother’s closet one day, that she disclosed her father’s name and background.  Buried deep in a shoe box was a wedding certificate.  Bonnie discovered his name was Davis Brown from Houston.  Digging deeper in the hidden shoe box she learned that he never worked offshore but that he had been a bull rider following the circuit, never making it big.   She also found his picture.  Tall, dark, and handsome, with coal black hair, blue eyes, and the most wonderful smile she had ever seen, just like those tall, muscular cowboys she was crazy about.  

Bonnie wanted to know more.  She forced her mother to talk about this mysterious Davis Brown.  Her mother explained that she met him at the Houston Rodeo and she, “was smitten by his coal black hair, his muscular torso, and those blue eyes – oh, those blue eyes!”  They married after three dates, and she became pregnant immediately.  He left her, just a month before she gave birth, running off with another cowgirl.  “I divorced him and shut him out of my mind, moving back to Louisiana, with my parents, to raise you, Bonnie.”

In 1996, when she was twenty, Bonnie moved to Texas, hoping to find her daddy.  She was following the circuit as a barrel rider when she met a man that reminded her of the mysterious tall, dark, and handsome Davis Brown.  

Johnny Brady was a professional bull rider from Amarillo, Texas.  He was tall, muscular, and handsome, with mysterious sky-blue eyes.  She admired his strength and strong morals.  Deciding he was a keeper, they dated.  Eventually, Bonnie married him, upsetting her mother. But Johnny wasn’t at all like Davis Brown. 

Johnny and Bonnie now have three children.  When time permits, Bonnie, Johnny, and the kids travel the PBR circuit together.  

One day while watching him practice on their ranch, Bonnie decided to try bull riding herself, against Johnny’s’ better judgement.  This woman was a determined woman.  She became quite good and wanted to do more.  Johnny was impressed, deciding to be her coach.  

These days, she rides bulls in the small rodeos.

Her current goal is to become the first female professional bull rider. 

Bonnie has also added to her tattoos.  She now has a small lone star under the gator and one in the shape of Texas under the Louisiana outline. 

She is one happy Texas cowgirl.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

 Dr. Summer Rose Colvin-Savoie, PhD.

Ecclesiastes 1:13     I devoted myself to study and exploration by wisdom all that is done under heaven.

 

I first met Summer Rose years ago while attending an International Entomology convention in Sydney, Australia with my dad.  Summer Rose was with her parents, noted authors and experts on the Asian Cockroach who were leading one of the conferences.  The Colvin’s were living in Cambodia at that time to further their research and were lecturing at the convention before traveling to the states to visit their son in Chicago before returning to the field.  We became fast friends after discovering that we both were from Louisiana and that our parents knew each other from their days at LSU.  We were eleven and bored.

            Boredom didn’t last long.  Since Summer Rose had a nanny in attendance we could travel at will.  We visited art museums, the theatre, the Opera, and the ballet.  Our evenings were spent at the swimming pool, watching movies or just being eleven-year-olds.  Those were two weeks of glory.

            We only saw each other a few times since that delightful vacation, once dreaming of romance and marriage.  Viet Nam and other circumstances prevented this from happening and I received a Dear John letter while she was working on her doctorate. She had met a fellow student and fallen in love.

After receiving her doctorate in Entomology and while working on her second doctorate in Psychology she met Dr. Gaston Savoie with the Forestry department. She divorced her first husband and married Dr. Savoie.  They and had nine children while spending 17 years in north Louisiana and Southern Georgia studying the reproductive cycle of the wood tick.   

            Recently divorced she now lives in Destrehan, Louisiana where she provides psychological counseling to lawyers of ill repute.

            Two years ago, Dr. Colvin-Savoie, with a few colleagues, organized the Krewe of Dementia, which has been dubbed the Krewe of Demented Dames by the locals because of their bawdy behavior during parades.  She just smiles and poses for pictures while telling people her conduct is a form of self-therapy.

 

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

 Clementine Hunter

 

Have you ever been in a position where you wished you had done things differently.  Well, I guess we all have.  One thing that comes to mind today is the fact that I had a chance to purchase something cheap that later would have been priceless.

 In the late 1950’s I had a summer job working for my daddy at his Pest Control business. I have never been a fan of pests.  Rats and roaches, I can tolerate but snakes and spiders I want nothing to do with.  At first, I was to climb under houses searching for termite mounds.  Sorry folks, I was too chicken and scared, afraid of the numerous spider webs and possibilities of snakes under houses.  I refused. Frankly, I told my daddy, I would rather spend all day in the hayfield lifting bales.   Eventually I rode with one of his workers, Mr. Cole.  Our territory was Winfield and Natchitoches, Louisiana. Hey, I liked that.  I loved Natchitoches and the antebellum homes. This I didn’t mind because I usually sprayed for roaches and ants outside the homes while Mr. Cole worked the inside.

 One of our main customers was Melrose Plantation.  We took care of all the outbuildings as well as the main house. I loved working there.  I always had time to explore the insides of several of the buildings.

 On the days we were to be in Natchitoches, we serviced those in the town first and stopped by Melrose on our way back to Alexandria since it required several hours work.  Somehow, we always managed stopping at noon time because the housekeeper and cook always had a delicious meal for us. Sometimes it was meat pies or pulled pork with green beans and squash, or fried chicken followed by a wonderful pie for dessert. The food was always delicious. We would sit at a table in the kitchen and visit with the cook and housekeeper, Clementine Hunter while we ate. She always had a great story to tell of life on the plantation.  I had no idea who this woman was at that time. She was just a friendly woman who made sure we did our job right. I had no idea she painted.   I wasn’t into art at all back then.  I only wanted to be a rodeo clown or a trapeze artist. Great career goals, right.  I didn’t become interested in art until I went off to college. 

 As we ate, I often saw over in a corner of the room, a small table, and stacks of cardboard paintings with a note saying 25 cents.  There were also brushes and paint on the table. My ignorance thought maybe it was the work of a child that Miss Clementine kept.  I did think they were interesting, but I paid little attention and never once thought about buying one or more of the colorful paintings.  What a shame!

 One of the buildings I remember spraying was the African House and never once did I imagine that she was the one painting those murals.  I saw a wall upstairs that was unfinished and remarked that I thought it was nice to let the children decorate this building, which was probably, in my mind at least, a child’s playhouse.

 Years later after I discovered art, I became a vendor on the grounds for the Melrose Arts and Crafts Festival selling my paintings and pen and ink notecards.  When I had a break, I wandered around the grounds looking at other vendors work.  I came upon Clementine Hunter sitting in front of the African House with some of her paintings. She was popular by this time.  It dawned on me that this was the Clementine Hunter that fed me.   I looked about thinking what a fool I had been.  I decided to talk with her while people milled about taking her picture.  I told her my name and how I had worked for my daddy’s pest control spraying Melrose once a month. I told her how much I enjoyed those meals.  She looked at me for a long time before she finally said she remembered me. We had a pleasant visit, and I got a hug.

 I will always regret that I never owned a Clementine Hunter painting.  That I didn’t have the sense to have purchased several of her works for twenty-five cents each on those days we treated the plantation.  I do have wonderful memories, however...and they are priceless.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

Rev. Theresa Calcutta

“I’m so old that my childhood leaped out of my mind to say ‘hello’ again.”

Susie Blair

                                  

       

        Rev. Theresa Calcutta was a well-respected Bible Scholar for her knowledge of the scripture. She also has a great sense of humor and a gift for music, playing the clarinet.  As a gifted public speaker, she was often asked to lead large conferences across the United States.

In the 1950's she felt a strong need to become a missionary, and after much prayer and convincing the missionary board that a single woman in her thirties could go to a foreign land for God, Rev. Calcutta eventually became a missionary to Africa and Brazil helping those less fortunate, feeding the hungry and establishing orphanages.  She sacrificed her own health on too many occasions insisting that this was her gift to the world.  She preached self-sacrifice and love for others. 

Fellow missionaries soon became concerned about her health, and worried about her, but she insisted that the Lord had opened her heart to the needs for those less fortunate, so she continued to live a life as one of God’s angels on earth. Living in poverty so others could know the Lord.

            On her forty-ninth birthday, Rev. Theresa began showing signs of Alzheimer’s and was forced to retire after nearly setting the home she lived in on fire.  She now lives in a nursing home in a local community.  In her confused mind, the nursing home is still her mission field and although she irritates some of the residents, by playing her clarinet to gather them for evening vespers, most tolerate her for she is harmless and still has her sense of humor.

             At the nursing home she has developed a love of plants, flowers, and birds.  The home even provides a place for her to plant and maintain flowers which keeps her very happy.  Friends bring her birdseed.  

Whenever flowers arrive for someone, she will pester residents by asking if she can have the left-over plants to put in her garden for the birds to enjoy.  Even when dead flowers are thrown away, she will dig them out of the trash and re-plant them in the soil. She carefully places a nameplate next to the plant with a person’s name. All plants get into the ground whether they are dead or not and she waters them diligently twice a day. 

In the evening before dark, she will be in her garden playing her clarinet for the flowers and birds.  Most just smile and explain her away to visitors. 

This is one of the things that endears her to others, her love of people and flowers.

            At noon the meals are not eaten until she says a blessing and sings “His Eye is on the Sparrow, and I know He Watches Me.” 

            Bless her heart, she is one of God’s angels on earth.  A true treasure. 

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

BEAU

chapter 5

Old Struck

The end of our adventure.

         Me and Beau didn't see each other for a while after that 'cause our mamas said they needed a break from the shenanigans we had caused.  When I did see him again, Beau was wearing his brand-new, store-bought overalls.  His paw had sold some good deer pelts for less than what they were worth so Beau could have some britches.  His Maw gave him what fer over all the trouble he had caused and warned him that them overalls had best last all his born days until he became an adult and maybe a long time after that. 

          It felt good bein' friends again, full of fun.  One day we decided to head over to the clearin' by “old struck” and just hang about.  Paw said it was good for us because we could learn to be better swampers.  “If'n you'd just go somewheres in the swamp and stand still for a while, you might get to know them critters and their habits. It'll help you trap better,” he said.  “They gonna' stay hidden long as you boys keep makin' all that racket.”  Beau said he already knew them critters and he weren't 'bout to go stand still in that old swamp waitin' for them critters to show their face, ‘cause the skeeters and chiggers would eat us alive.  “Besides,” said Beau, “some old bobcat might sneak up on us and have us for dinner.”  I said we should climb up on old struck to watch for the critters, but Beau said he would get sleepy and fall off the limb and the old buzzards would come and invite all their friends to a buzzard party over our dead bodies. Said they'd eat mine first since I was sweeter.  I said, “Wait a cotton-pickin’ minute,” and hit him up-side the head.   We wrestled for a while before sittin' on the ground, back-to-back.  “Ain't nothin' sneakin' up on us today 'ceptin' them skeeters,” Beau laughed.

          Weren't long before we heard some rustlin' about in the leaves. Beau whispered it must be a bear sneakin' up, but it weren't really nothin' but some old birds searchin' for somethin' to eat.  Just as I was about to fall asleep myself and cause the buzzard party, Beau heard a “plink” in the water.  A squirrel had dropped some of its pinecone dinner into the water.  Then we saw a snake swim over to investigate before catchin' some small frogs instead.

            'Bout the time we was learnin' somethin' 'bout the swamp we realized things got mighty quiet.  I think it sorta crept up on us.  First the wind started to blow, and it felt so cool and refreshin' after all that hot sun that we didn't pay it no mind a'tall.  Then everythin' got real still, and the birds stopped their singin'. It sure was quiet.  Kinda spooky and in these parts of the swamp things can get real spooky, if'n one set his mind to it.  Beau looked at me and I looked at him and then, “BOOM”, that first bit oflightnin' struck.  Beau's feet never touched the ground as he knocked me down while I was fixin' to run for home.  Then the rain came poundin' down hard on us.  So hard we couldn't see straight. I ran one way and Beau ran the other, chasin' each other round and round cause we couldn't see nothin'.  Everythin' looked the same. Weren't long before we ran smack dab back into “old struck”.  Sure, felt good to find somethin' familiar even if it was “old struck”.  Beau said we oughta stay there a while till the rain let up some, but I weren't too happy 'bout stayin' under this tree 'cause that lightnin' and thunder was strikin' faster'n a cornered rattlesnake.  I just knew today would be the day that “old struck” got struck again.  But Beau just crossed his arms and sat down right at the foot of that tree and said he weren't gonna budge till it was over.  I reckon we stayed there all night, the rain never lettin' up enough for us to see ten feet.  We was shiverin' so hard we almost lost our you-know-whats.

          The next mornin' we began to shoutin' and hollerin' but no one ever heard us.   We were too wet and cold to really care, anyway.   And that rain was still poundin' and the lightnin' still flashin' like old Noah was gonna show up with his boat any minute. I said I bet old Noah was glad it was rainin' so he could wash them animals.  Beau said he didn't know how Mrs. Noah could stand being on that boat with them stinkin' animals roamin' about.  He said he bet she was runnin' round like a chicken with its head cut off, what with cleanin' up after all 'em.  “If'n I was Mrs. Noah,” he said, “I wouldn't a put up with all that mess.  I’d a made him make two boats, one for the family and one for all them critters with a long rope connectin' them two and if Mr. Noah wanted to have a hissy-fit he could join the other boat.” 

          “Beau,” I shouted, “we gonna drown down here under “old struck.  This rain's a real frogwash.  The gators gonna have their own party bout us goin' away.  I ain't ready to die.”  Bout that time, before Beau could answer his sassy self, “BOOM!” That lightnin' hit so close that the whole swamp shook.  We took off like hound dog s chasin’ coons.  That next bolt hit “old struck” so hard that it split in two, right where Beau had been sittin'.  Then a fire started up.  “We better head for the barn, Beau,” I shouted, “we better start runnin'.   Beau!”  Beau didn't move.  I shouted more.  Still no movin'.  Beau had been hit by a limb and was bleedin' and I was too scared to have noticed.  His leg sure looked funny.  By now, that fire was creepin' up on us faster-n a hot knife through butter. I had to throw Beau over my shoulders, midst all his hollerin' and groanin', to not burn.  Possums and coons and deer were runnin' all around us trying to escape the fire.  “My leg, my leg!” Beau shouted.  “I can't move.”   I said, “Beau, we're in a heap of trouble if'n we don't high tail it.” 

          The fire was all around us, ceptin' a spot out in the water so I jerked Beau up again and headed out.  Water was up to our chests and gators and snakes were all around us, but they didn't never mind, 'cause they was escapin' that fire too.  So, there we sat with the fire and gators and snakes sayin' their howdy-do as they passed on by.  We were still in that water when the fire stopped and climbed on the land again and that’s where we was sittin’ when our paws found us.  Said we had been gone for two days and that fire finally hushed itself up over by the landin'.  Beau's leg was mighty swollen now, and his Paw said he reckon it were broken so we made a splint with that charred wood and hauled us out'a that swamp.  Paw said he reckoned “old struck” had finally bit the dust.

          Our maws started cryin' and huggin' and kissin' us when we got to the clearin' but when Beau's maw took one look at his overalls, she said she was gonna jerk a knot in his tail for messin' up them brand-new store-bought britches.  Said she weren't gonna fix 'em anymore and he'd just have-ta be buried in ‘em. 

          Beau didn't get us into any more trouble after that what with his broke leg and such that we just lazed around the house helpin' our paws skin the animals they trapped. Winter was comin' soon, and our paws had killed enough beaver, deer, coon, and nutria pelts to get through the winter.  Yes sir, we was simply good ole' boys livin' down in the swamp.

          My family moved not long after that so that my sisters could have a right schoolin'.  I didn't see much of Beau after that, but I do know that Beau had been savin' some pelts he had trapped and when he had gotten enough went to Mr. Higgins' store and sold them.  He had enough to buy his mama a new dress for her birthday since she had put up with enough of his shenanigans to last a lifetime. 

Bless his heart.

© Nippy Blair 2015. Posts and pictures on this blog cannot be copied, downloaded, printed, or used without the permission of the blog owner, Nippy Blair.

BEAU

chapter 4

Ghost Stories

         

Yep, Beau and I had to sleep outside for three days.  It weren't much fun 'cause of all the baths we had to take, but that's what we had to do after meetin' ole' mama skunk.  We had to sleep outside with nothin' but our underwear.  Beau said we would freeze off our “you-know-what’s”, but his mama said, “I don't give a diddly-squat.”   She weren't givin' no more clothes or blankets to be torn up or stunk up.

Soon as he could, Beau got rid of his underwear.  Said he weren't gonna let any stinkin' underwear let him keep from sleepin'.  My sisters said he sure looked dumb in his ole' birthday suit.  They laughed and said God musta taken Beau out of the oven too soon 'cause he looked half baked.  Said his skinny ole' tan legs and arms sure looked strange next to that bony ole' white body.  Beau said that didn't bother him none and he just climbed out on a limb and hung upside down scratchin' his chest for fleas.  Faster than a rabbit chased by hounds, Beau's mama found him some more underwear.  “I don't care if'n there ain't neighbors around,” she said, “but my boy ain't gonna run around buck naked like a wild animal.”

          Beau's mama made us take two baths every day. I thought the water felt good, but Beau said only girls or sissies took more than one bath a week.  Said his brother, Leon, sometimes went 3 weeks without one.  Maybe that's why my sisters didn't like him.  Beau's mama said that when Leon got home from trappin' she was gonna make him take one too.  Beau said he didn't want to be buck naked in no tub with Leon 'cause he was a pervert, whatever that means.  “I'm gonna wash your mouth out with lye soap Beau Bordeleon,” said his maw, “unless you quit all that nasty talk.”  Beau thought it was bad enough havin' to use that lye soap on his body and he weren't about to put none in his mouth, so he just shut up.  After Beau's mama left, he said he didn't know which stunk most, having to take two baths a day or that ole' stinkin' mama.  I sure hope he was talkin' 'bout that black and white critter what got us in this mess and not his own mama.

          I said we could pretend we were in the jungle and cannibals were gonna make a good soup out of us, but Beau said he didn't want to play.  Said his mama was gonna be sad she made him take so many baths.  Said that water was too hot, and it was gonna make his skin crinkle up and fall right off his bones to the bottom of the wash tub.  “Maw sure is gonna feel sorry for having a skeleton in the family,” he said.  I said his mama would probably hang him in the smokehouse and have lots of bones to make soup with.  Beau poked me in the stomach and made me spit up all over him.  So, he spit back, and I got mad, and we started to fight.  Them girls began screamin' for our mama and said they wished we'd never been hatched 'cause we'd been nothin' but misery all our born days.  Betsy said, as they ran to the house, “I wish that ole' water would boil your hides so we could stretch it out to dry and sell it with the other animal skins.” 

          We started rollin' and jumpin' all over the yard buck naked with mud and stuff all over us.  We fought so much that Beau knocked the wash tub over and spilled lots of water.  It hit me in the head makin' me see stars. Beau's mama boiled some more water and made us take another bath with lye soap while she stood near with a switch in her hand.  She said Beau was lower than a snake in a wagon rut. 

          At night Beau and I slept in the tree house and told ghost stories.  But mostly Beau.  Said he had one that would scare my dumb ole' sisters.  “Them sissy girls will have gray hair before they're old enough to marry,” said Beau. “Won't nobody want them when they see how old and ugly, they become.  Not even brother Leon,” he laughed.  Said he couldn't wait to tell them his story since they made fun of his birthday suit.  Beau stood up and began to act like a wild animal swingin' his arms about as he told about the Tiger-Sniger.  Said the Tiger-Sniger was striped like a tiger and was purple and white.  It stood 10 feet tall and had eyes and tails all over its body. It would stalk the swamp lookin' for children to eat. I smiled and pretended I weren't scared 'cause I couldn't let Beau know. Beau's story made me shiver so much I thought my underwear would drop off and my you-know-what would too.  Beau said if'n I didn't stop that shiverin', I was gonna knock the tree house down and the Tiger-Sniger might get me.   I shook harder as I moved to the middle of the tree house, holdin' tight to my underwear.  I said I was just cold and missin' my blanket.  Said I was movin' to the middle to get warmer.  Beau laughed so hard, he fell on his bottom, sayin' I was just scared 'cause the tree house was only 8 feet off the ground and the Tiger-Sniger was 10 feet tall. I hit Beau so hard he fell, and we started fightin' again.   I told him, any ole' bear could sneak up on that ole Tiger-Sniger and make Tiger-Sniger stew if'n he wanted to.”  Beau said nothin' could sneak up on the Tiger-Sniger.  “Beau, you're crazy,” I said, “'cause somethin' could sneak up on it when it was sleepin'.”  Beau said it never completely slept and kept one eye open. When it found something near it, it would take one of its twelve tails that were attached under the twelve eyes, even on its head and wrap it around the critter like a snake.  Beau said it would squeeze the critter until it went limp, then eat it.  Beau then proceeded to jump on me and started squeezin' me around my middle with his legs.  I said I had to go to the bathroom.  Beau laughed louder sayin' he scared the pee out of me and was gonna tell, but I let him know I was just waitin' for a good time to go 'cause I didn't want to upset his story.  Beau kept makin' fun of me being sissy and then he curled up in the middle of the tree house using his underwear for a pillow and went to sleep.   I couldn't sleep 'cause I was wonderin' which one of those eyes that ole' Tiger-Sniger had lookin' at me or if'n he wanted two ole' stinkin' boys for his supper.  After sittin' awhile, and shakin', Beau suddenly stood up and started walkin' about with his arms flailin' everywhere.  “Beau,” I shouted, But Beau kept going in a circle and bumpin' into everythin'.  Beau was either asleep or that mean ole' Sniger had done flung a spell on him.  Beau sure looked funny with his arms flailin' about walkin' in circles with nothin' on but his birthday suit.  But I weren't gonna wake him.  No sir'ree.  Not me boy! My maw had told me that if'n I ever saw someone walkin' in their sleep that I'd better not ever try waking them 'cause they might be dangerous.  She said they usually had a spell cast on them for being so bad and could even kill a person if disturbed.  Maw said no one was supposed to wake up somebody like this or they might be crazy in their minds the rest of their born days and would have to be locked up for protection.    Lands, I didn’t know what to do.  I couldn't stay in the tree house 'cause Beau was all over it and I might be killed, and I couldn't go leavin' it 'cause that ole' Tiger-Sniger might be waitin' for me to climb down, and I might be killed.  I knew one thing for sure, I weren't 'bout to wake Beau up 'cause I didn't want him to be crazier than he already was.  So, I just kept walkin' about the tree house keepin' out of Beau's way the rest of the night.  I was so dizzy walkin' in circles that I was about to pass out when Beau headed for a limb and climbed on it, stretchin' out like an ole' mama couger with his legs and arms danglin' down and started to snore.  I stayed up all night waitin' and watchin' but that Tiger-Sniger never came, and Beau kept on sleepin'.  

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