Black as Hell and Smells Just Like Poke Salad

The weather had been unseasonably hot and dry the fall of 1933, the drought extending all the way into November. All eyes scanned the skies periodically, hoping for the rain that would break the drought and bring cooler temperatures. The clouds rolled in, threatening, but produced no rain. The old timers who predicted rain by their rheumatism, declared when Continue reading

Dee Gibbs and Dishwater Soup

Of all the hobos who made their rounds periodically, Mama and the three of us kids despised Dee Gibbs the most, though we would have been hard pressed to come up with what was the worst: his smell, his voracious appetite, or his refusal to take the broadest hint that his welcome had worn thin. It was a mystery why Daddy tolerated him, but after Continue reading