Like most of the people we knew, we didn’t have an car, so we never went anywhere at night we couldn’t walk, except for once. Mama got the news that there was to be a brush arbor revival in Cuthand, hosting a guest evangelist! To my everlasting amazement, we were going! We put quilts in the back of the wagon, since we’d be getting home long after dark. We hopped up in the wagon dressed in our best, headed for the revival, in a holiday spirit long before dark. I had no idea what a revival was, but couldn’t have been more excited than a kid headed for the fair!
We pulled up to find dozens of wagons parked next to a brush-arbor in a clearing, a simple roof of branches on a make-do support sheltering rough benches. Though it was summer, a few small fires were smoldering, their smoke intended to discourage mosquitoes. Before long, the song leader got us fired up with a rousing rendition of “Onward Christian Soldiers.” The singing was wonderful, but eventually gave way to the Hell-fire and brimstone sermon, something that didn’t thrill me nearly so much.
It was late by the time the preacher concluded the altar call, releasing us. After visiting a bit with our neighbors, we headed for home, long after the time I was usually in bed. I lay in the back of the wagon with Annie and John on the quilts, looking at the magical night sky. Travelling under its full moon and sparkling stars was a gift. A slight breeze cooled us, keeping the mosquitoes at bay. As the horse clomped along, Mama and Daddy told stories and talked amiably. With all those I loved around me, I never wanted this night to end.
to be continued
This is to thank Writer in Soul. https://writerinsoul.wordpress.com/ I love her posts, especially about things men have said to her. Please check out her excellent blog. It is sure to keep you entertained. I will always be grateful to Writer in Soul for being kind enough to like and comment on my first post. Of course, when I posted it I was worried that no one would be interested in anything I had to say. Thank you so much!
First Grade School Picture
To curly-haired people Mother might have seemed mild-mannered enough, but beneath her calm exterior she nursed a sadistic streak, committing home permanents with malice aforethought, ignoring her helpless daughters’ protests that “I like my hair this way.” and “nobody but old ladies have THAT kind of hair.” squashing arguments with a terrifying Continue reading
Reblogged from Erika Kind. I am having this problem, too. Thanks for writing this, Erika.
The oldsters were getting frisky when Mary said, “I may be 72, but I have the body of a 40 year old.”
John replied, “Well, you better give it back. You’re gettin’ it all wrinkled!”