Keep Talking

When we were in Round Mountain, Arkansas during a revival our family was staying in a small, two-bedroom house. 

For some reason when we went to bed one night everything seemed funny and we girls kept giggling.  Dad would call for us to quieten down, which we would for a few seconds then we were giggling again. 

Dad told us again to quieten down . We tried so hard but sometimes that makes everything funnier. So Juanetta and I giggled more. 

Suddenly Dad said, "I want the ones who are talking and giggling to go to the living room." He met us there and set two kitchen chairs facing each other in the center of the room. Then he said, "For the next hour I better not hear you two stop talking or I will paddle you." 

Juanetta and I started talking. It isn't easy to think up things to talk about when you are required to. Talking non-stop makes you very thirsty too. 

We had been talking for a while when one of us said that we needed a drink. We started trying to figure out a way to get a soda without being caught. And we finally came up with a plan.

While Juanetta kept sitting and talking to herself I slipped into the kitchen and got sodas from the fridge. Then I slipped quietly back into the living room and we continued talking while we drank our soda. 

By the time our hour was up Juanetta and I were talked out and ready to sleep. 

Been to the Bar?

Six George girls were meeting at a Marriott in Memphis to celebrate a major birthday. I can't recall whose birthday it was, but I think it was,  Rhonda's, and as everyone knows, when and where we get together, the fun begins. 

In quick succession Deb pulled to the door of the hotel in her Riviera for the bellhop to unload her Macy's luggage,  Rhonda pulled up in her Cadillac for the bellhop to unload her Louis Vuitton luggage and  Juanetta pulled up in her Yukon so he could unload her Samsonite. (Not sure that was the names on their luggage, just painting the picture)

By the time their luggage was on the bellmans cart I had pulled up and was  ready to unload. For some strange reason the bell hop acted a little taken aback when I handed him a cooler with sodas, bologna and mustard, my dresses hanging in a lawn trash bag and other items in WalMart bags.

After leaving our luggage in our rooms and going out for dinner we got back on the elevator to return to our rooms. Someone pushed the button, the door closed and hesitated then opened again. No one was there. Someone pushed the button again, the door closed, hesitated then opened a second time. Still no one there. We were all laughing and pretending to motion someone in.

The third time the elevator door closed, hesitated and opened, Deb pretended to greet someone and started dancing with them. As she started dancing, her foot slid off of her slides, she fell, and there was a domino effect, as Deb bumped Angela then she bumped me. 

Of course we were all cracking up over Deb's mishap so much that we had forgotten the elevator door. Amid the hilarity Deb, Angela and I were struggling to get off the floor while laughing uncontrollably and Rhonda, Juanetta and Sherlyn were bent double from laughing so hard, the door opened again. 

When the door opened, two guys got on the elevator and observed the scene for only a moment when one said, "Looks like someone beat us to the bar."

Cannibal Attack

When we were ages three, five, six and eight, Deb, Rhonda, Sherlyn and I went with some friends to a community church for an afternoon of singing and dinner-on-the-ground. 

As the singing was going on we girls decided we were thirsty, and got permission to go to the old pump for a drink of water. We would take turns pumping the handle while the others used a cup or cupped our hands to catch the water. 

We were so intent on getting a drink that we didn't notice Red joining us at the pump, at least that was the name people in that community called him. 

Red was a large man with reddish hair, who was walking the roads barefoot every time we went through that community. His feet must have been a size eighteen. As far as I know Red didn't talk and seemed to have the mentality of a young child. 

Before we realized that Red was at the pump with us he grabbed my forearm with both of his hands and started smelling of it. Why he was smelling of my arm, I don't know, but he did it in the same way a hungry boy would smell of a chicken leg before devouring it. 

I started to yank my arm away and run, but quickly thought that Red might get one of my little sisters if I did. So thinking quickly, I yelled at them, "Run!" and as they ran toward the church I yanked my arm free and sprinted in behind them. 

Deb, Rhonda, Sherlyn and I were breathless as we entered the church. We had just made a mad dash to safety from a possible cannibal attack and were happy to have all our extremities intact. 

Cough Syrup

AB came home from work one day with a sore throat, fever and a bad cough. After dinner and a shower he went straight to bed and asked if I would bring him the cough syrup. 

I walked into the bathroom and found the bottle of cough syrup in the cabinet. Somehow the label had been torn off, but  I gave it to him anyway. 

AB never used a spoon to measure his medicine, he would just turn it up and drink. He swigged the cough syrup so quickly it took a second for him to realize that it was not cough syrup. While sputtering and making a terrible face he told me that I had given him black draught. 

When we told Dad about the mix-up he said, "It will probably help AB's cough anyway, because he will be afraid to cough."

Jesus of the Scars

If we have never sought, we seek Thee now;

Thine eyes burn through the dark, our only stars;

We must have sight of thorn-pricks on Thy brow;

We must have Thee, O Jesus of the Scars.

The heavens frighten us; they are too calm;

In all the universe we have no place.

Our wounds are hurting us; where is the balm?

Lord Jesus, by Thy Scars, we claim Thy grace.

If, when the doors are shut, Thou drawest near,

Only reveal those hands, that side of Thine;

We know to-day what wounds are, have no fear,

Show us Thy Scars, we know the countersign.

The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;

They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;

But to our wounds only God’s wounds speak;

And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.

Written by Edward Shillito at the end of the First World War when he saw so many wounded coming home.

Stick-em-up

One day after eating lunch in the staff dining room at NWCX  I picked up my glass of tea and walked back into the kitchen. There were about fifteen-hundred men incarcerated there and probably fifty of the prisoners were employed in the kitchen. 

Where my two-way radio rode on my right hip the short antennae was irritating where it hit my ribs. The other correctional staff knew how to tuck its tip into a small ring on the side of the radio. Being a new employee, I was thankful for any tips. 

At corrections academy we were taught that you never let down your guard when working in a prison. And as  a new employee, my nerves were on constant alert whether I was supervising the cleaning, organizing and rotating of stockrooms, freezers, or coolers, the unloading of trucks, doing the inventory or placing orders. 

With my tea in hand the kitchen door swung shut behind me as I strode toward the stockrooms. Someone called my name and when turning to reply my antennae came loose and sharply popped me in the back. With tea still in hand my arm instantly shot up and the tea was tossed heavenward and drenched my head. Laughter erupted from every side at the spectacle I made of myself that day. 

Pepper Spray

There has never been a lack of entertainment when the George family gets together. Whether our time is spent in new adventures, pulling pranks, working together for a specific cause or reminiscing over the past we always enjoy those times. One such time comes to mind.

Years ago we were in Raleigh, Illinois for Thanksgiving with Ron and Juanetta  when we needed to pick up more supplies for cooking dinner. Six of us girls piled into the cab of my pickup on that cold morning and started to town. 

As we rode into town that wintery day Angela opened my glove compartment and saw a canister of pepper spray. Thinking she had thought of a fun prank she held it up and sprayed... Instantly the cab was filled with blind, weeping, coughing, laughing girls with faces burning. I quickly pulled off the road and we all bailed out and staggered around the side of the road as we tried to catch our breath. We may have heard how bad pepper spray can feel, but some people have to learn from experience.