Part of the GAGenWeb Project.
A Memoir from Childhood About a Trip to Mt. Olive
It is a summer Sunday in 1945. I am six years old, and I am going with
my Grandparents, Minnie Jane Henderson Griffin and Joseph Daniel
Griffin, and my Great Grandmother, Nancy Ann Bennett Henderson, to
church. My Grandfather hitches Tony, his horse, to the wagon and places
a small chair in it for my Granny Nan. I help Grandmother with the
lunch, which is placed in a basket, and the thermos and other utensils
into the wagon. Also a bottle of homemade wine that my Grandparents have
made which will be used for the communion. Plus each member has his own
song book. Granddaddy helps Granny Nan into the wagon, and she sits
behind the wagon seat where my Grandparents are perched.
Jeff, their mutt of a dog who is
the color of gallberry honey and my best friend, trots along in the hot
Georgia early morning sunshine. We go down the lane away from the farm.
There are fenced-in fields on either side of the lane. I hop down and
open the large gate which leads into the woods. Jeff doesn't follow us
but stays on the property. The wagon goes through and I close the gate
and jump onto the wagon as it moves through woods filled with pine
trees, cypress trees, gallberry bushes, and palmettos. The ruts on
the road are sand, which is as white as sugar, and a grassy area runs
down the center. Various birds call as we go on our three to four mile
trip through the woods. I am seated in the back of the wagon with my
bare feet dangling. A bobwhite calls in the quiet morning air.
Granddaddy really doesn't have to guide Tony for he knows the way. Tony is tied up in the shade of an oak tree and here and there are automobiles. Grandmother brings her basket inside as Granddaddy helps Little Granny from the wagon bed. The church can be entered from three doors. One is on the Swamp Road and leads directly through an area of unpainted wooden benches which is for the visitors. One door is on the cemetery side and it leads to the same type benches where the female members sit. The remaining door is on the opposite side and this opens on the identical area where the male members sit. In front of each of these benches is a diamond shaped hole cut into the floor so that the men can spit their tobacco juice during the meeting. Each of these areas looks in the direction of the pulpit which is elevated and closed in with a bench for the preacher. In front of this structure is a small deacons bench which probably would only seat two grown men. And in front of this bench is a small, unpainted, and bleached white, homemade communion table made of pine. Next to this, a few feet away is a little homemade chair made especially for Granny Nan. She is a tiny woman, only about four feet and nine inches tall and weighs about eighty-eight pounds. Her ankle length dress and petticoats touch the pine floor boards. My Grandmother has a loud, clear, lovely voice as she leads the singing. I sit next to Granddaddy who attempts to sing, but he can't "carry a note". There is no musical instrument except the human voice permitted. Neither is there electricity nor any kind of decoration. I notice all the men's hats are hanging from a special made board next to the men's door, and directly overhead. Looking up I see that there is no ceiling. I am looking directly at the inside of the roof. I can see several dirt dauber nests up there and actually hear them drone at times during the meeting's silences. I don't sit during the long service but wander outside. I have been warned to "watch out" for snakes. I go to the men's "out door toilet" and notice that there are several toilet seats so more than one man can " go to the bath room". And there are the Sears and Roebuck catalogs.
I hear the preacher stop preaching and begin praying. Then the church members all come outside. Many go to the pump which has a shed built over it. (Granddaddy primes the pump with water he has brought in a can.) They have their own cups for catching the cold, clear water. (Grandmother's is made of metal and folds up which makes me think that she is special.) The men have all put back on their hats and the women are fanning themselves with cardboard fans that are stapled to little unpainted wooden handles. Not just because it is hot, but to keep away the flies as well. The food is eaten and the thermoses are emptied. The adults return to the church for the afternoon meeting. I play around the wagon and read from a book I have brought along.
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Copyright © 2002 Christopher Henderson
Griffin Boyd,
All Rights Reserved
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