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Jesup, Georgia 31545

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

75

A countrified cross between Confucius and Will Rogers, Nanny punctuated her pronouncements with rifle-shots of peach snuff spit into a wad of Kleenex in a Maxwell House Coffee jar. If the rabbit ears atop her 15-inch Philco werent pulling in The Edge of Night or As the World Turns, shed likely sit a spell on the screen porch, rocking and offering commentary, as traffic zipped by on Highway 91. She wouldnt sit long. There were too many chores waiting for the widow who was as earthy as the Baker County soil from which she tried to coax enough cotton and peanuts to pay the bills. Most years, the bills stacked higher than the peanuts on the pole or the scant bales of cotton. I dont know why I keep doing this, shed scoff. Sometimes, I think this soil is as sorry as gulley dirt. And then shed spit. Alwaysalwaysthered be a telltale snuff stain in the corners of her mouth. As I sit on the backside of Thanksgiving 2012 and on the frontside of my 64th birthday, I can see Nanny now, circa 1957. Over the creaking of her rocker, shes saying, Honey, the Lord takes care of drunks, fools and little children. And that made me think of the multitude of times

The Lord takes care of drunks, fools and little children

that Ive escaped death so far. Once my great-uncle, her brother, thought Id enjoy riding his horse. I knew nothing DINK about horses. NeSMITH Uncle Bud Chairman learned that, too, when the horse galloped straight for Highway 91. Smoke billowed from the tires of cars and trucks skidding. Its a wonder I lived to my 10th birthday.

My Opinion
MMM

Not many months later, a group of us found some shotgun shells. One of the boys said, Put it on the fence post, and lets see if I can make it fire. He tried to fire it with a pellet from his BB gun. No luck. Someone suggested Plan B: Put it on that concrete block. Picking up a metal pipe, he struck the brass end of the shellboom! Its a wonder none of us was maimed, blinded or killed. Fast-forward a decade. Speedometers tell how fast you are going. But teenagers want to know: How fast will it go? At 16, you are going to live for-

dnesmith@cninewspapers.com

ever. Seeing how fast you can take a curve seemed like a good idea. When I got the courage to climb out of my socks and peek over the front seat, the needle was flirting with 100. Now, I wonder how we survived. Another peer-pressure moment was the challenge to swim across Cherokee Lake. By the time the second boy had hit the water, I plunged into the Coca-Cola-colored lake, too. I never thought about stumps beneath the surface or the water being too shallow or the opposite shore being too far. Fifty years later, Im still shaking my head. Last winter, I drove a fourwheeler into a swamp hole. One wrong turn, and I was going glub, glub, glub. I never touched the bottom of the murky pit that could have been home of a hungry alligator. Kicking myself to the surface, I thought: This is how people die. Shivering, I realized that I had dodged deathagain. And I knew what Nanny would have said. After shooting a stream of snuff, shed repeat, The Lord takes care of drunks, fools and little children. You werent drunk, and you aint a little child. With a wink, shed add, I reckon, Honey, that leaves only one thing.