Samuel Wayne Rorie, my grandfather, Onia, Arkansas, 1960s, at his nephew Graden Richardsons house. Grandpa went to school on Roasting Ear Creek in Stone Co, AR, for one day. He said he didnt like it and worked on the farm and at the sawmill the rest of his working life. Grandpa was a quiet, unassuming man we all loved dearly. But he was afraid of ghosts. When he was young, his mother had taught him not to curse, but to always use some common word in place of the cuss word. He choice for some unknown reason to use hair and hammer instead of using the world Hell. One day he was sitting on the porch watching the sun go down. It was nearly dark, when Grandma put hay in an old bed sheet to feed the farm animals. She had so much hay that the sheet covered most of her face. She sashayed around the corner of the house and startled Grandpa, who thought it was a ghost. He jumped to his feet and spoke out in a quivering tone of voice, What the hair are you anyway! What in the hammer do you want with me?
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 16:41:33 +0000
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