We haven’t heard much out of Hannie Jo lately. Most of the time, she’s pretty quiet. She’s the oldest in the bunch, so when she speaks, we figure she’s got something to say. The other day, she surprised us all as she started chatting away. We couldn’t always understand every word she said because her teeth are gone, but we thought we’d share. She gave us permission to put this on the “log”, as she says it.
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"I don’t quite understand all this stuff lately about “cleansing”. I got a few words for that: Stewed prunes and lots of water!”
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“I remember the days when there wasn’t any air condition. We’d sit on the porch and make fans out of folded papers. Now ya got machines to cool the air. But too much a that kinda air dries you up–that’s how come I got all these wrinkles!”
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“Little kids are given too much leeway. We’d never talk back to our elders, unless we wanted a switch on our hinies. Guess that’s why I ain’t got a hiny left!” and she started laughing with that hoot laughing noise she makes. She chuckled so hard we thought she was going to have a heart attack.
We thought Hannie Jo was sort of acting a little too jovial– she usually doesn’t get too worked up about anything. Then Sarah J. got a hunch and looked in the cabinet above the stove. The bottle of Jack Daniels No. 7, which we keep for medicinal purposes, was a little low. “Hannie? You been in the liquor cabinet?” Sarah asked her.
All Hannie Jo would say was “That’s for me to know and you to find out!” And she chuckled again. Then she shuffled out to the porch on her wobbly legs, to her rocking chair, folded her hands on her lap, rocked in the cool breeze and looked out over the hills. “He, he, I’ll never tell!” I heard her say, under her breath.
I went out to the porch and sat down in the other chair. I asked her, “You’ve been in the whiskey, haven’t you?” “Now Bebe, don’t you worry. I’m just checking in. That's just my way of checkin' the 'ol ticker! It's better than checking out, don't you think?"
I have to agree!
Have a good night, y’all!
