Chapter Four

                           Chapter Four

Myrtle being my step-mother and Gooby, my step-grandma was only a portion of my bad luck. Myrtle had a sister named Melissa. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was a lady of the night in Kansas City. She had a mean streak in her just like her ole mama, Gooby. She took great delight in mistreating Sissy and me.  

Although she could yell and cuss almost a bad as her mama, her meanness lay in her threats. I remember one time she threatened to chop mine and Sissy’s head clean off, just because she was mad at us.

She was coming toward us with the axe which Grandpa Kirk used for chopping kindling when Myrtle; doing probably the only nice deed she’d ever done, stopped her.

Melissa scared me so bad; I thought my heart would jump out of my throat. I could see my chest pounding - even heard it in my ears. I closed my mouth as tight as I could to keep my heart inside.

I truly believe she stayed up nights just thinking of ways to get Sissy and me in trouble.

Not far from our house was an old strawberry patch that was over-gown with Sassafras bushes and blackberry vines. One day when everyone was gone, Sissy and I ventured into the patch. We sought out and found almost a quart of the juicy, ripe strawberries. We stopped at the spring and washed them before heading home.

Not wanting to dirty any bowls, we decided to eat them straight out of the bucket. We first covered them with fresh cow cream and sugar. What a sweet treat they were. Unfortunately, we made the mistake of also adding a spoonful of vanilla.

The very instant Melissa waltzed into the house; she stopped still in the middle of the kitchen. She stood like a wooden soldier; her feet spread apart, her hands on her hips. Then she sniffed the air looking just like daddy’s ole hunting dog, Blue.

She bent at the waist, putting her face right in front of us and snarled … “What you kids been up to? I smell vanilla.”

We confessed we’d picked the strawberries and she flew into a rage. I covered my ears as she began yelling, “I was going to use those berries for Sunday dinner!”

Now I knew and so did Sissy that she wasn’t going to use those berries. I doubted seriously if she even knew there were strawberries or blackberries nearby. True to her mean streak, she made us lie on the floor with our noses in a crack for the rest of the day.

We didn’t’ dare move, talk or take our nose out of the crack. When Myrtle and daddy came home, they walked around the room, conducting their business without even a thought about Sissy and me lying there. I could never understand why daddy allowed everyone to mistreat us like that.

Many days, we would stay in the woods so we wouldn’t be whipped or mistreated. It’s so sad to carry a cloak of fear, especially when you are just a child.

The woods became an arena of freedom for us. There wasn’t a tree Sissy or I couldn’t name or climb. We’d shinny up big Oak trees, and then ride a limb down to the ground. We were like two little monkeys. We made grapevine swings and swung far out over deep hollows and creeks. Our wild yells echoed in the hollows as did our childish laughter.

We feasted on the many wild berries and grapes, my favorite being summer grapes. They were deep purple like a concord grape, only they grew on vines which wound high up into the trees. Sissy and I would eat the berries closest to the ground first, then without a care climb high up into the trees to feast on the ones that reached out to the heavens. 

We would eat, and eat, and eat the sweet grapes. Our purple stained lips framed smiles of freedom. How, I loved those grapes and the feelings I had inside me as I ate them in abandonment.

There were times when the woods gave me a scare. I could always rely on Sissy to be there for me if I needed her, and once I remember as we walked through the woods, we came upon a bunch of wild hogs. As fast as we could we climbed up into a nearby tree. We stayed perched on the limb watching the hogs push their snouts into the dirt, looking for food.

They made ugly snorting sounds, pawed at the ground and pushed and shoved one another.

From our perch, we could see the course hairs on their backs and heads. As their snouts rooted in the dirt, their breaths sent puffs of the dirt around their heads. They were a scary sight!

When finally they were gone, we started to climb down. Sissy went first and stood below me with her arms reaching toward me. She was ready to catch me if I fell, however I couldn’t move. It was one of the few occasions that I could not come down from a tree. After much coaxing to no avail, Sissy climbed back up into the tree and helped me down.

The woods gave us other causes for alarm also. We often had to go out in the woods and open fields and gather berries to sell. Sissy and I would pick the huckleberries first. They grew on low bushes in the woods.

There are a lot of copperhead snakes and timber-rattlers that we had to constantly watch out for. I’m surprised we never got bitten. I guess the good Lord watched over us.

When Sissy and I went to the woods to hide away, it was wonderful; however, when we went for the berries we went in fear. We didn’t dare go to the house until we had picked a bucket full apiece. The buckets held two and a half gallons. Daddy would take the huckleberries to the store and sell them. We got five cents, a whole nickel a gallon for them. With money in hand, daddy would go to town and buy sugar or coffee.

After the huckleberry season was over it was time to pick the blackberries. It was a lot harder picking the black sweetness which grew wild in briar patches. We usually wore our sleeves down around our wrists as the briars scratched and cut us, many times bringing blood.

There were a lot of black-snakes, coach-whips, blue-racers and green snakes in the briars also. They wouldn’t bite you, but scared me so bad I had to be careful not to wet on myself.