SOME MEMORIES OF MAMA

My first vivid memory of Mama was when she rammed her finger down my throat, saving me from a chicken bone bent on turning me blue. At the time, I was sitting in a high chair beside a crowded table.

As a small child, I remember the warmth and security of snuggling beside her at the Tabernacle church in Granby, Missouri where we attended. With so many sibblings, I had to fight for that spot. 

I don't think she sat down at all on Saturdays, since all day she prepared for Sunday. Church clothes had to be ready. She killed three chickens by putting their neck under a broom handle, standing on it, and yanking it off. We helped pluck them, but she cut them up for Sunday fried chicken. Then she made about three or four chocolate or apple pies.

She also made sure we got our Saturday night baths. After supper she dragged the oval metal tub into the kitchen, heated water on the gas stove, and hung a sheet or quilt over the door to the living room. Heating and changing water kept her pretty busy. We "washed off" during the week. Seemed like she was always giving us "spit baths" on the way to church.

Mama did the greatest thing any mom can do: took us to church, told us about Jesus, and read the Bible to us and prayed at bed time. 

Rest in Peace, Nellie Mae Watson. I'll be seeing you some day.