down.
“Momma told me that she put Cy’s picture in her locket. You know Cy what took care of Momma’s horses, True Love and Puddin’?”
Ethel chuckled. “Whew wee, I bet them was some fireworks,” she said. “Ol’ Mista Stuart would have been righ’ smart hard on Miz Ginny‘bout that had he known. Miz Ginny was hiz prize n’ joy. He spoilt that child rottn’.”
“That’s why she thinks he’s so great?” I asked.
“Yea, honey, that man thought the sun rose an setted on yo’ mama. Ya know she was his only girl. Mista Gordon and Mista Jimmy worried yo’ granddaddy and Miz Bess sick with the shenanigan day gots up ta. And Mista Dennis, he weren’t never right in the head, po’ soul.”
“Why was he mean to Granny Bess?”
“Who was mean to Miz Bess?”
“Granddaddy.”
“Who say he was?”
“I don’t know. She lived in that little house. He didn’t give her his big one when he died. That’s mean, isn’t it?”
“He’d done lost all his money.”
“Why?”
“He was a drunk,” she said, finishing the mayonnaise. She put it away in the cupboard and walked over to the sink to peel eggs. “Befo’ the accident he used to hole up in the Annex on a drankin’ binge. Nobody’d see ‘im fo’ weeks, ‘cept Miz Bess. She’d tend ‘im and you’d hear him yellin’ an’ cussin’ clear down to the kitchen. After a while he’d give it up. You know—clean hisself up an’ go on ‘bout his bid’ness. Then somethin’ would set ‘im off again. I don’t ‘spect ya can hang on to yo’ money an’ keep that kinda livin’ up fo’ long,” she said philosophically.
“What accident? I never heard about any accident.”
“Never you mind, girl…just talking through my hat, thas all. Go’n out and play, now.” She said as she bustled a bit more than was her nature.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked as I slipped out of the chair while gravel crunched in the drive. I slunk off to the window to check; sure enough my mother was just getting out of the car.
Later that day Ethel took a rare afternoon off. That left us at home with my mother. I found her alone in the sitting room playing solitaire.
“Don’t you have to go riding today?” I should have known better than to have asked, but I wasn’t thinking.
“Ethel had something she had to do at the last minute and she couldn’t find a sitter.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, sounding exasperated.
“Oh, you wanna play war?” I asked as I looked for another deck of cards.
“Sallee, it is—
want to
. The question you are asking is: Do I want to play war?” She looked at me intensely as if her look could somehow make me speak properly. Then she acquiesced, “If you’d like,” she gathered the cards up into a deck. “How do we play?”
“You cut the deck in half if you don’t have two decks, and give me one, and you put down a card and then I put down a card and the highest one wins. If they are the same then you spell ‘war’, and then the highest one wins.”
“Who taught you how to play this game?” she asked as she handed me half of the deck.
“Daddy taught me and Gordy.”
“Gordy and me,” she corrected.
“Daddy taught Gordy and me. We play it with him all the time. Do you want to play?” I turned a card over and looked up at her expectantly as I rested my chin on my arm.
She placed a king on my six. I asked, “Didn’t you play this with Granny Bess when you was little?”
“You were,” she corrected. “No, Mother didn’t play cards.”
“I was what?” I looked at her quizzically, then shrugged and continued. “Did you play with Granddaddy then?”
She shook her head, “He only played bridge and solitaire. Not games for children.”
“Two twos,” I exclaimed, “this is when you spell w-a-r and ... don’t turn ‘um over, you put’m upside down like this.” I slipped three cards off the stack in front of me and arranged the cards face down, carefully stair stepping them just as
“Momma told me that she put Cy’s picture in her locket. You know Cy what took care of Momma’s horses, True Love and Puddin’?”
Ethel chuckled. “Whew wee, I bet them was some fireworks,” she said. “Ol’ Mista Stuart would have been righ’ smart hard on Miz Ginny‘bout that had he known. Miz Ginny was hiz prize n’ joy. He spoilt that child rottn’.”
“That’s why she thinks he’s so great?” I asked.
“Yea, honey, that man thought the sun rose an setted on yo’ mama. Ya know she was his only girl. Mista Gordon and Mista Jimmy worried yo’ granddaddy and Miz Bess sick with the shenanigan day gots up ta. And Mista Dennis, he weren’t never right in the head, po’ soul.”
“Why was he mean to Granny Bess?”
“Who was mean to Miz Bess?”
“Granddaddy.”
“Who say he was?”
“I don’t know. She lived in that little house. He didn’t give her his big one when he died. That’s mean, isn’t it?”
“He’d done lost all his money.”
“Why?”
“He was a drunk,” she said, finishing the mayonnaise. She put it away in the cupboard and walked over to the sink to peel eggs. “Befo’ the accident he used to hole up in the Annex on a drankin’ binge. Nobody’d see ‘im fo’ weeks, ‘cept Miz Bess. She’d tend ‘im and you’d hear him yellin’ an’ cussin’ clear down to the kitchen. After a while he’d give it up. You know—clean hisself up an’ go on ‘bout his bid’ness. Then somethin’ would set ‘im off again. I don’t ‘spect ya can hang on to yo’ money an’ keep that kinda livin’ up fo’ long,” she said philosophically.
“What accident? I never heard about any accident.”
“Never you mind, girl…just talking through my hat, thas all. Go’n out and play, now.” She said as she bustled a bit more than was her nature.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked as I slipped out of the chair while gravel crunched in the drive. I slunk off to the window to check; sure enough my mother was just getting out of the car.
Later that day Ethel took a rare afternoon off. That left us at home with my mother. I found her alone in the sitting room playing solitaire.
“Don’t you have to go riding today?” I should have known better than to have asked, but I wasn’t thinking.
“Ethel had something she had to do at the last minute and she couldn’t find a sitter.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, sounding exasperated.
“Oh, you wanna play war?” I asked as I looked for another deck of cards.
“Sallee, it is—
want to
. The question you are asking is: Do I want to play war?” She looked at me intensely as if her look could somehow make me speak properly. Then she acquiesced, “If you’d like,” she gathered the cards up into a deck. “How do we play?”
“You cut the deck in half if you don’t have two decks, and give me one, and you put down a card and then I put down a card and the highest one wins. If they are the same then you spell ‘war’, and then the highest one wins.”
“Who taught you how to play this game?” she asked as she handed me half of the deck.
“Daddy taught me and Gordy.”
“Gordy and me,” she corrected.
“Daddy taught Gordy and me. We play it with him all the time. Do you want to play?” I turned a card over and looked up at her expectantly as I rested my chin on my arm.
She placed a king on my six. I asked, “Didn’t you play this with Granny Bess when you was little?”
“You were,” she corrected. “No, Mother didn’t play cards.”
“I was what?” I looked at her quizzically, then shrugged and continued. “Did you play with Granddaddy then?”
She shook her head, “He only played bridge and solitaire. Not games for children.”
“Two twos,” I exclaimed, “this is when you spell w-a-r and ... don’t turn ‘um over, you put’m upside down like this.” I slipped three cards off the stack in front of me and arranged the cards face down, carefully stair stepping them just as
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