My Dad worked at the seed and feed store for as long as a month. Then one day, he didn’t go to work. I knew something was wrong, but my questions were being short-circuited. My mother was a person who would never outright lie, but she had a way of making sure you wouldn't get the full story unless she wanted you to have it. Without her realizing it, she had passed this bad habit on to me. I would have a lot of trouble overcoming it. I hadn't gotten it out of my system when my daughter was born, and I unfortunately passed it on to her. Her husband named it "tricky talk".

When I asked why Dad was at home, Mom said, “Oh, he’s just taking a few days off. There is some work he needs to do around here.” I knew better. My dad didn’t take days off. I also knew no number of questions would ever get me to the real truth. I’d been given the run-around before. Mom had too much pride to ever admit to anyone, even her family, that Dad had been fired. She probably told herself, she didn’t want me to worry about it. Sometimes a lack of information can cause more worry than knowing the truth. It would be years before the fact he had been fired ever came to light, and even then, there were no details forthcoming.

I can imagine my dad, having always been in a position to make his own decisions and not having to take orders from others, getting himself into trouble. He could have easily smarted off to someone who saw him as a subordinate.  The owner of the seed and feed store’s wife worked with her husband. It’s possible he could have insulted her. Maybe, she just didn’t like her husband hiring him.

At any rate, Dad was dressed in his work overalls and was angry at the world as he pushed a plow around breaking up some new ground. Thankfully that state of affairs didn’t last long. Dad found another answer before the week was out.

The new owner of the grocery business realized he was in over his head and he was happy to hire dad to work with him. Dad was back managing the store and working with Billy. It was as if nothing had changed for the next twenty years until Billy himself was ready to retire.

Back at school, I was friends with everyone in my class but I wasn’t a group person. I had no desire to be a group leader nor a follower. I was more comfortable hanging around with one or two close friends and those often varied from year to year.

Newton was a Junior College town. Actually, it was a Baptist Preacher College town and they had an active recruitment program. Some of those who felt called to the ministry were often older and already had families. We seemed to get a lot of new students who would only be with our class for two years, until their fathers graduated and moved on to the four-year college near Jackson or to the seminary in South Mississippi. It seemed many of my special friends were only around temporarily.

Patsy was a close local friend who was in my class and someone I’d known from Sunday School since I was three. We didn’t always move in the same circles. She lived in town and I didn’t. Her parents signed her up for band, and mom had me taking piano and expression lessons. She had a brother who played sports so she got to go to evening ball games and I only went to a few afternoon baseball games.

My dad wasn’t interested in sports and I seldom attended after school activities, other than the annual Halloween carnival. I never got to go trick or treating. It wasn’t something many kids did in those days in Newton. Boys liked to go out on Halloween night to do some mischief, like soaping up all the store windows and throwing toilet paper into trees or on houses.

Jo Ann, whom I mentioned in my last chapter, didn’t seem to have any girl in particular she was close friends with. We always seemed to be competing to see who could read the most books or for parts in school plays. She still preferred playing with boys. I saw her as a rival and someone I felt a bit envious of because she was better at sports and had a more outgoing personality. I didn’t realize it at the time, but many years later she would admit to also having envied me. Although the two of us never became close friends, she did manage to wake me up to a flaw, I had developed by trying to be like those around me.

We had a girl in our class who was obviously from a poor family. Some of the kids didn’t like her and described her as disgusting. She was one of those kids who didn’t come regularly. After a long absence, one day she was back on campus. I saw her before class and decided to tell Jo Ann. I always regretted my words.

“Guess what?” I said, “that creepy Ollie Mae girl is back.” 

Jo Ann immediately looked around for her. She went over to her and said, “Oh Ollie Mae, It is so good to have you back. We missed you. I hope you weren’t sick.”

I was so ashamed of myself I wished I could disappear into the woodwork. I recognized Jo Ann as a better person than I was. I decided I never wanted to say anything negative about a classmate again. Shortly after that, Ollie Mae had acute appendicitis surgery and was in the hospital. Our teacher got a get-well card and had the class sign it. For some reason, she chose Jo Ann and me to go to the hospital and give her the card. We went that afternoon after class and it was a visit I will always remember.

Our hospital had a basement. I was never in it but that one time. It was a dark and dismal area that was poorly staffed and didn’t have private rooms. Because Mississippi was still segregated and black people were considered second class citizens, those patients were always assigned to the basement rooms. White patients, who couldn’t afford the eight dollars per day for a room were also put in the basement.

Jo Ann didn’t say anything about her being in the basement and neither did I, although I felt bad about her having to be there. We found her alone in a room with two beds. We were both friendly and sympathized because she’d had surgery. She seemed surprised and pleased to have us visit her. She couldn’t believe the whole class had signed a card for her.

I realized that all people deserve respect and dignity, and that a little kindness goes a long way. I’m sure Jo Ann’s family seemed in better financial condition than most in our town, but that hadn’t kept her from treating Ollie Mae as she would have treated any other person. My opinion of her had taken a big leap forward.

After Ollie Mae recovered from the surgery, Mom let me invite her over to our house for the afternoon. I found she was actually a lot of fun to be around. My family didn’t have a lot and some might have considered us poor, because we still didn’t have indoor plumbing, but we had a decent house and land and many were so much worse off than we were. How much or little a person had never really mattered to me again.