Child of the Mountains - By Marilyn Sue Shank Page 0,2

something bad happened that the rain falls on the just and the unjust. The rain that Gran talked about sure poured down mighty hard on our family.

2

It’s about missing home and them girls at school.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1953

Folks around here know the tale about Mama and BJ—at least they think they do. Them big-city newspapers wrote about Mama’s story, but most people heard tell of it from someone shooting their mouth off. Ain’t none of them got it right, though.

When Mama went to jail, I had to come live with Uncle William and Aunt Ethel Mae in their shotgun house at the coal camp in Confidence. Gran once told me that Uncle William’s house is called a shotgun house on account of iffen you shot a pellet at the front door, it would fly clean through the whole house and out the back door.

Mama thought different. “Lydia,” she said, “it’s a humpback house, on account of having a room on the top. Your uncle has a bigger house than most of them coal miners. He’s a boss over some of them men.” Mama held her head real high when she said that. I know she’s right proud of her brother. That little room upstairs is where I sleep. At least it has a window, so’s I can look at the stars at night.

The house is painted white and has green shutters on the windows. You walk up three steps to the porch. Then you walk in the door to the living room. Aunt Ethel Mae likes to decorate everthing with flowers. She has wallpaper with flowers, pictures of flowers, and a floral couch cover. She even has fake flowers in a vase painted with flowers. Sometimes she sprays them with perfume. I don’t know why she don’t just grow her some real flowers in her yard. I guess she didn’t think about that. For some reason, I always feel itchy when I sit in that living room.

When you go through the living room door, you find yourself in Uncle William and Aunt Ethel Mae’s bedroom. They’s some stairs in their room that lead up to my room. When you go through their bedroom door, you’re in the kitchen. A little bathroom sits off to the side. Out the kitchen door, they have theirselves a tiny stoop and yard.

I sure do miss living in the house that Gramps built with his own two hands. My great-grandpa deeded him the land when he first got married. Gran loved to tell stories about the house that started off as a little cabin. She said Gramps called it his make-do house. That’s on account of him making do with whatever supplies he could find to build it. Each time he had another young’un, he made do by adding another room. When him and Gran first got married, the cabin had one big room that they used for sitting, cooking, eating, and sleeping. He built a johnny house out in back for the other stuff folks got to do. Gran said he made it a two-seater so’s she could feel rich.

When they been married for a year, Gran told him, “It sure would be nice to have us a place to sit in a swing and look out over the mountains of an evening.” So Gramps created her a front porch and his swing still hangs from two chains today.

When they been married two years, Gran said, “It sure would be nice to have a place to sleep so’s people wouldn’t have to stare at our bed when they come to set a spell.” So Gramps created her a bedroom on the top of the house.

When they been married three years, Gran said, “It sure would be nice to have a room for this young’un that’s a-coming in a few months.” So Gramps created Uncle William’s room on the left side of the house.

When they been married five years, Gran says, “It sure would be nice to have a room for this new young’un that’s joining us soon.” So Gramps created Mama’s room on the right side of the house.

Gran couldn’t have no more babies after Mama, but that weren’t the last of them room addings-on. Gran thought it sure would be nice to have herself a sewing room and a dining room over the years, too. My gramps loved my gran a awful, awful lot. So Gramps created them rooms, the kitchen on the back of the house, the sewing room on top of