We had a lot of fun memories and some sad ones in our fourth house. The last one I will share is when I shot my brother. Things were very boy vs girl at our house. My brother got guns, and cars. I got dolls and doll houses, but I wanted guns and cars. Now when I say guns, you're probably thinking, ok this is their fourth house, and she was only in the second grade when they moved there, he can't be very old, so what kind of guns?? They were BB guns, my uncle gave him one every year at our last house, because they were stolen so much, but he got wise and began to hide them, so he ended up with two! One for me, and one for him, right? That's the way I saw it, I was the only one but that's the way I saw it. So I bugged, now for those of you who know me I'm sure that you are shocked that I could hound someone night and day until I got my way but I did. Finally the day came that my brother was going to teach me how to shoot his gun. He set up a target, and fired off a couple of rounds, it was so cool! But the target fell over, so he set the rifle against the tree (his first mistake). Then he told me not to touch it (his second mistake). I, of course, agreed that I would wait patiently. You know where this is going.... I picked it up, just to look, and it went off and hit him nicely in the leg. Now these guns were not like those soft plastic bullets they have today. They were small, round, metal bullets that could sink into your skin. That's exactly what happened. Fortunately for me, my brother was wounded and could no longer run fast, but I could and I did. If he would have caught me that day, I wouldn't be here today to share this story.
Our landlords were good friends at the church. I remember the night that they came over to tell us that they were moving, and that they were selling the house that they rented to us. I was a hard night, because we were going to have to say good-bye to our friends and good-bye to our house. The house sold quickly, and we were not able to move during the summer like my mom had hoped. She hated moving us in the middle of a school year. I was in the middle of my fourth grade year. We had only been in that house two years, which seemed to be becoming my average in a home. We looked every where for a place to live, but we couldn't find one. It had not been long that we moved my mom into the family room, and my brother and I had our own rooms. We knew that we would probably be back to sharing a room, but we had no idea what was in store for us.
We moved in with my Granny! Now this might seem like a good thing to some folks, because you might remember that I was Granny's favorite and she and I had a very close relationship. She was a lot of fun for me and I will tell more stories about her as we travel this journey, but the first one I need to share is our phone calls. Since bill collectors were a common phone call in our house we did not like to answer the phone at various times in our lives. So Granny came up with a signal, (this was before answering machines, and caller ID). She would let the phone ring once and then hang up, and then call back. That way we knew it was Granny calling and we would answer the phone. What she didn't realize was that this system back-fired on her. We knew that it was Granny calling. Granny could talk for hours, and never let you say a word. So when the signal began, we would begin to argue. When I say we, this includes my mother. Things like "I talked to her last time, it's your turn," or "I've had a hard day" or "I always have to talk to her," the last was mine, because I was her favorite, everyone knew that, so if no one else gave in, I was the one picking up the phone. Some days she would talk about nothing, for hours, about nothing. All I had to do was say, "uh-huh", and she was happy. My best friend would give me a hard time, cause I would put the phone down, and go back every once in awhile and say "uh-huh," because she loved my Granny too, and couldn't imagine why I would do this. She was also amazed that Granny never figured it out, or if she did she never let on.
But there were other times when we had great conversations. She loved to play jokes on me. I would answer the phone, "Hi Granny," and in her gruffest voice she would say, "This is not your Granny, little girl" I would giggle and say, "yes it is you used the signal". We would go back and forth for several minutes. When I was really little she would have me going. But as I got older I would roll my eyes and play along, because even though I was "too old" for her little game, I loved that she still played it with me.
So how exciting would it be for me to move in with Granny! She was a great cook, she adored me and I adored her. The problem, two women in the same house does not a happy environment make! They fought a lot, and I hated it. Things my brother and I did that my mom would get upset with, she would get mad at my Granny, for getting upset with us. If Granny made me cry, my mama was mad! It was also a small house, with only two bedrooms, and a small nap-room my poppa had built, there was not much room for the four of us. My brother and I put our bunk beds (the only thing that would fit) in the nap room. There was half a foot between the back of the fireplace and the bed. We put our dresser at the side of the fireplace and had basically a 2' X 2' place to stand before we got into bed. I changed in my mothers room, and my brother used the bathroom. It was a tight fit.
We used the church address so that we could continue to go to our old schools, but one of my teacher's found out and tried to use it to make me behave. My mom decided that I should go to the school near Granny's house for 5th grade, but my brother got to stay in his Jr. High. That was good for him, because change was harder on him than me. I seemed to make friends more easily, at least I thought so......
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