This story begins in a small country home in south Alabama. Rain is pelting down onto the tin roof and it is dark outside. Occasionally, dogs can be heard howling as lightning strikes and thunder rumbles. Inside the small home, fourteen children are gathered around their elderly grandmother Corene.
Corene looked out the window into the pitch black night.She remebered living through some mighty bad storms in her life. Thank God, this one was not on that scale. She looked lovingly at the children gathered at her feet. A sudden crash of thunder and a
bolt of lightning lit up the fourteen small faces that were intent on her words. She sighed inwardly..."Has it really been so long since I listened to the stories my Mama told?" she asked herself silently.
Corene began her story, "Long ago, when I was growing up, I had to learn many chores. By the time I was sixteen, I was quite good at milking cows, gathering eggs, plucking geese, tending a vegetable garden, working in the corn and cotton fields and feeding the farm animals. I was also a pretty good cook! I had almost mastered the art of making butter, cheese and buttermilk too. I helped Mama clean house and tend to the younguns. Mama had already taught me to sew and I had finished my first quilt and packed it away for when I got married."
On Saturday afternoons, I was allowed to have gentlemen callers. We would sit on the front porch, under the watchful eyes of my Papa. There were three young men who called almost every weekend. George, Frank and Marvin. Marvin was my favorite from the start. He was six feet two inches tall and had raven black hair that was barely long enough to touch his collar. His eyes were chocolate brown and sparkled in the light. Wide shoulders and huge, work-calloused hands completed the picture. I loved him with all my heart.
One Sunday, Marvin showed up at our door and Papa said I could ride to church with him. I was surprised because I always rode in the wagon with my own family.
Marvin took my hand and helped me climb up into his wagon. He looked as nervous as could be for some reason!
About half way to church, he pulled up under a tall oak tree and took my hand in his. He was all red in the face and stammered out these words, "Corene, I love you. Will you marry me?" I looked into his soft eyes and answered him, "Yes, I will and I love you too!"
When we pulled into the churchyard, Papa and Mama were waiting for us. They could tell what my answer had been by the smiles on our faces. Marvin had already asked Papa for my hand and Papa had agreed to sign for me the day before! At the tender age of sixteen, I had to have his permission to marry. He signed his permission with a soft smile.
The next Saturday, we were married on Papa and Mama's front porch. Our large families were our wedding guests. Mama served lemonade and carrot cake to everybody there. Marvin wore his brother Frank's new suit. Oh my, he did look handsome. His dark eyes sparkled in sweet anticipation and his hair shone in the light like a black raven?s wing. His skin was still damp from his bath and I could see tiny droplets of water clinging to his brow.
I wore my Sunday dress and Mama had brushed my golden brown hair until it was shining and curled softly around my shoulders. My eyes showed my happiness. Marvin said they were the same shade of blue as a robins egg. My cheeks were pink from the pinching Mama had given them and I kept licking my lips to keep them glossy.
Soon that day was gone and we were just another married couple trying to scratch out a living on a small patch of land we had rented. We lived in a tiny, one room cabin. It had a packed, hard dirt floor and one window. I made curtains out of flour sacks for the window. I was so proud of that little house! As long as we paid the rent, we could call it ours.
Soon, I discovered every day was the same. Get up before daybreak, gather the eggs, milk the cow, cook breakfast, wash the dishes, feed the animals and go work in the garden. After the garden, I would help Marvin in the fields.
Before we got a mule, he would hook himself to the plow and pull it while I walked behind it and kept it in the furrows. We had some hard times.
The only breaks were on Sundays when we rested and went to church. Then we could talk to other people and eat on the grounds. All the women brought food and everyone shared.
Marvin sung with the men every Sunday. He had a wonderful, loud deep voice that I could hear above all the others. Surely the Lord was pleased.
As the months wore on, I lost all my energy and was bone tired all the time. I cried a lot and had awful headaches. I wished I had never left home. On top of that, I discovered I was going to have a baby! Marvin was thrilled but I was scared. I didn?t want another mouth to feed and all the extra work and worry that having a child would cause. I was afraid that I would die in childbirth like some of my friends had. I wondered, why didn?t I find a rich man to marry or just stay unmarried?
One night, I was so tired from working all day, that I dragged myself in and collapsed across the featherbed. My body was big and clumsy from being with child. And it felt so good to be cradled in the soft down of the bed I had made myself. My back ached so badly, I thought I would die. It was the middle of summer and I was hot and sticky with sweat. But I was too tired to wash off.and I just cried myself to sleep.
I awoke to feel Marvin?s calloused hand stroking the damp hair back from my face. "What?s wrong Cood?" he asked. In total anguish, I answered,"My back hurts so bad I want to die!" In the candlelight I could see tears falling drop by drop down his cheeks.
He unbuttoned my old cotton shift and gently pulled it off. Then he went to the shelf on the wall and took a bottle of Watkins White Liniment from it. He poured some in his hand and began to rub it into my back. It felt so good that I drifted off to sleep again.
The next morning, I awoke feeling much better. So what if we were poor dirt farmers. At least we had each other. I rolled over to greet my young husband. He was staring at me with a funny expression on his face. "What?s wrong?" I asked. "Your back is solid white like someone painted it with whitewash!" he stammered.
He got the liniment bottle from the floor and read it. A smile turned into a laugh that changed to one of uh oh. He handed me the bottle and waited for my reaction. I read "white shoe polish" from the label. I looked at his puppy dog face and began to laugh. From that moment on we were blessed with the ability to count our blessings and laugh at our troubles. I hope you will all learn that lesson too.
Listen, the storm is over. Let's go to bed and have sweet dreams until the rooster wakes us up in the morning.
This is one of the versions of this story that I have written. I hope you enjoyed it. It is dedicated to the memory of my grandparents.
