Chapter Five

         Chapter Five

I soon acquired two half-brothers, Franklin and Jesse. They were alright, I suppose for little boys. Now that I had brothers, I thought even more often about James, and hoped one day he would be with Sissy and me. I think in my heart I knew however, this would never be.

Melissa returned to our home after being in Kansas City for a long time. She was very sick. One night Sissy and I heard some of the grown-ups talking about her illness. She’d had an abortion and there were complications.

She also had contacted a terrible disease, called syphilis, which put big water blisters all over her body. The disease made her have a fever which would be so high she would be out of her head for hours on end.

She suffered a horrible death. I thought it must be because she was so evil. When she died, it’s terrible to say, Sissy and I laughed and laughed. Melissa was only in her twenties the day she was buried in mid-March. From our front porch I looked at the mountain and smiled; he too, didn’t weep.

One day, long after Melissa’s demise, Sissy and I found one of her high heels shoes. We would take turns wearing it. We also had acquitted a boyfriend. When he was mine for the day, I would wear the shoe. When he was Sissy’s she would wear it. We wore that old shoe until the heel turned completely backward. About the time the shoe wore out, we decided we didn’t want a boyfriend any longer either.

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There were many unique remedies for different aliments, or just simply to ward off sickness. For Itch, lard and sulphur was used as an ointment. Once our bodies were smeared with the smelly mixture, we had to take a bath in boiled poke root. It would burn so bad; when I got out of the tub, my skin was beet red. I don’t think it cured the Itch, either.

For snake bite, green cow manure was applied to the wound, which was supposed to draw out the poison. One day Sissy and I were playing and found a little snake about two feet long. We beat it to pieces and as we did some of the blood got on my arm. Sissy grabbed me by the arm and ran as fast as she could to the cow lot. She didn’t just put cow manure on my arm. She put it all over me – face and all. To this day she claims she saved my life.

Gooby would make a tea from all kinds of roots and barks, then make us drink it. It was terrible.  So bitter our mouths drew up in a pucker, and shivers would go through our body. The “cure” was supposed to purify our blood. We’d hold it in our mouth and if we could, we’d spit it out. Unfortunately, Gooby usually watched us pretty close and made sure we swallowed every drop of it.

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I loved spring time in Arkansas. Following a long cold winter and spring rains, the woods and hollows seemed to come alive. The May apple was the first sign of spring as it poked its head through the dead leaves on the ground; then all kinds of wild flowers would dot the fields and mountains with color and a sweet aroma. And then, the mushrooms.

Right after a rain, and if the sun came out nice and warm, you could almost see the mushrooms pop through the ground. They grew in the hollows and Sissy and I would take two big buckets and fill them to the brim. They were really a treat after eating beans, cowpeas and cornbread all winter. 

Sometimes we had to endure cornbread and molasses three times a day for days and days -- a delicacy from God were the mushrooms.

Other times, Sissy and I would take a knife and two buckets and go into the woods to hunt wild greens. We knew exactly what to gather, cow parsley, dock, crows-feet, lambs quarter, square weed, pike, dandelion, thistle, lamb’s tongue and wild lettuce.

Spring meant garden time, also, for us. We worked hard keeping the weeds out and cultivating the soil. Sissy and I would take turns hoeing and hauling rocks which were embedded in the ground. I didn’t mind hauling the rocks, but did not find any pleasure in using the hoe.

After the soil had been properly cultivated, fields of corn were planted. When the corn stood about a foot high, climbing pole beans were planted at each hill of corn. The time of bean harvest when they had matured and turned dry, would find Sissy and me with toe-sacks over our tiny shoulders. We were usually careful when picking the beans as we knew this would be our winter meal.

One day, we grew tired of picking the beans and decided to rest. We began to take the bean leaves and stick them to our dresses, making pretty designs. I’m not sure which of us began, but soon both Sissy and I were really giving Gooby the dickens. We called her every cuss word we knew. We imitated the way she chewed her chaw, then spit. Such fun we were having.

Suddenly, the air took on the feeling of impending doom, like tornado weather on the horizon. Even the birds in the trees grew quiet. We looked around and there stood Gooby.

She had been watching and listening to Sissy and me the whole time. She tore into us, beating us across our shoulders and back with a long stick. I didn’t mind the licks, I felt what we had said was true and I wasn’t one bit sorry. I don’t believe Sissy was either. Neither of us cried.

About the only time Sissy or I ever cried was when we thought about our mama. We were always looking for her to come and rescue us. We could hear the freight train whistle all the way from Rogers and would sit, hoping that she was on that train. I remember the lonesome sound of that ole train whistle and the pain in my heart as if it were today.

Wild geese would fly overhead on their yearly pilgrimage south, and we’d wonder if they had a home; and if they too, were sad and hungry. I think we thought they might be like us, unloved and unwanted.

One day our prayers were answered, almost. Mama did come to get us, but Daddy wouldn’t let us go. I don’t know how mama got there, nor do I recall what we did together. I just remember the visit was short. I do, painfully, remember when she left.

Sissy and I walked about a mile with her down the dusty road which led to town. We sat for a time side-by-side, under a sycamore tree. I believed in my heart she would stay, how could she not? We were her two daughters, we were important to her.

When she walked away, leaving us standing alone in the middle of the dusty lane, we knew life would not change for us. We held hands and cried all the way home.

to be continued ...