Chapter 1
Bayview, Alabama - also known as “the camps” - was a peaceful little mining community in January of 1949. This, of course, was with the exception of my mother, Malva, who was prone to burst from the house at any given moment and take off running down the street screaming, “I’m dyyyying ! Jesus, help me, Jesus”!
My daddy, Ben, would tail along after her and eventually get her in tow and bring her sobbing back to the house. At 7-years-old, this was a great source of embarrassment to me and, I was sure, a great source of glee to the neighbors. Many mornings I walked to school with my head down, positive that the people I passed in their clapboard houses were staring at me from behind their curtains.
“There goes that Smith boy. He’s the one with the crazy mama.”
I envied my sister, Marty, because she was only three, didn’t go to school yet, and was spared the indignities I suffered.
Everyone agreed that my mother’s problems were her “nerves.” All but Ma, my grandmother and my daddy’s mother. Ma was old and the wisest person in the world. Even God revealed things to Ma that he wouldn’t to anybody else. Several times a week I would head over to Ma’s house. Ma and me would sit on her front porch drinking iced tea while Ma told me about the world and its evils. She was the littlest woman you ever saw and wore a sun bonnet that was so big you almost couldn’t see her. Ma especially disliked women. She would tell me, “son, I won’t live to see it but you will. You just remember what I say and watch for it. Women will be the downfall of this ol’ world. Women are sorry and getting sorrier. It’s not like it was when I was a girl. Now they want to boss the men folk and run everything and it ain’t gonna bring about nothing but the end of time.” I knew what would be coming next. “It’s all in the bible, Dennis, if folks would just take the time to read it.” This was always a little confusing to me because of Ma being a woman herself. But I never made any comment on it because I sure didn’t want Ma to think I was foolish.
As to my mother’s condition, Ma had the diagnosis. “What your mother has, Dennis, is ‘running fits’. It runs in her side of the family. Her daddy had ’em whilst he was living, and her mother has ‘em (my other grandmother, Mama Davis). Ain’t nothin’ but the pure ol’ devil.”
Most times this topic would end with, “I’ll never understand why your daddy married into that family with all their foolishness. Benjamin could have married Lorena Massey. She really loved him and would have made him a good wife with good sense.” I would sit and nod in agreement with Ma and wonder why my daddy had not married Lorena Massey. I guess neither one of us stopped to think that if he had, I wouldn’t be sitting in the porch swing agreeing with Ma.
