“This is my Grandpa’s jug and remains in the family”
On a cold southern night, I was about six or so and reading under the covers by a “coal oil” light, grandpa’s piano and laughter ringing in my ears. Serenading grandma both had a bit too much “cheer”. I laughed so hard I pulled up the tail of my flour sack gown to dry my happy tears; Ma could not hear me I had nothing to fear.
Suddenly there was the smell of smoke; Ma came in giving my covered shoulders a poke. It does not matter to me she exclaimed, you may want to get out of bed before you go up in flames. Through the burnt hole in my quilt I could see, smokes rising through it like a wilderness Tepee. Grandpa tossed a bucket of water at me from the door; it missed the bed and hit the floor.
Grandpa jerked the quilt off the bed, folded It ever so gently and pristine, then through
It out my window that had no screen. My aunt walked in laughing so hard she peed,
Then said to the others, “Don’t yell at her; be happy that she knows how to read. I thought I was in trouble, and then everyone begins to laugh. Drying her tears grandma said, “Well, it isn’t as if she’s committed a crime. She will remember this night for a very long time”. I ran to the outhouse thankful for their “cheer” with the help of a little Old jug of “moonshine” I had nothing to fear.
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