Ethyl remembers: Summer Heat

They are called the dog days of summer and I can certainly understand why. These are days when dogs even have trouble coping. They just lie around on the ground with their tongues hanging out, trying to catch any breeze that comes by. Too hot and tired and lazy to move.

I remember growing up in Mississippi on a gravel road, and with every car that came down the road you consumed enough dust to suffocate a camel, but you didn't complain. After all, school was out. No more classes, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks. That is until September. Then it started all over again.

I remember one summer when I was ten going through drawers and pockets and every thing else until I found five pennies, and then I asked my mama if I could walk up to the little country store on the corner and get a Baby Ruth candy bar. Permission granted, I skipped up the road as happy as a little barefoot county girl with five pennies in her pocket could be. Little did I imagine what excitement awaited me.

Once inside the store I stood pondering over whether I should buy the Zero or Baby Ruth bar. One of the local county ner-do-well had also stopped by the store that day. He was a fellow my parents knew well, and he showed up at our house often. I ran up and gave him a hug, happy to see him. Suddenly there was a loud squealing of tires and a dust cloud totally surrounded another car that had pulled into the yard where the little store was located. Another neighbor of ours, just not as close and further down the road, stomped into the store, and pointed a loaded revolver at my buddy. I was totally dumb founded. Who on earth would want to hurt my friend.

The lady who owned the store was a close neighbor and a cousin to my mama and she immediately reached out and grabbed me and positioned me behind her back. I peeked out from behind her and watched the drama unfolding in total disbelief. "You bring that no good ****so and so out here so I can kill him", the gun wielding farmer shouted.

"Now, Farmer, you just go on home", said Miss Mary. "You don't want to go to jail, you don't want to hurt anybody".

"I aim to kill him", the farmer said.

"No, you just leave before you do something you will regret for a long time", she counseled in a very controlled voice.

Eventually he did regain control and leave, after which everyone in the store fell apart. I went home and told Mama and she likewise fell apart.

"Why, Mama, why, I don't understand". Still no one would give me answers. It just didn't make sense. What would cause grown people to act like that. When we got mad and wanted to kill someone, we got in terrible trouble. Why, Why, Why. Still, no one would give me answers.

It was years later when I was grown that I heard my parents discussing 'the affair'. Apparently my good friend had been caught in bed with the farmer's wife. Caught red handed, or maybe bare butted would be a better way to phrase it. Mr Farmer had tried to kill him then and he had managed to escape, but he bought the gun and had been waiting for an opportunity to finish the job. My Mama thought this was too much for a ten year old to understand so I was left to wonder for the next ten years.

Sometimes fifty years later when it's hot like today I think about 'the incident' and wonder. How many people are involved in things that could get them shot. And how often do children have a totally different perspective of situations than grownups. How much goes on that is talked about but never really explained. Why is it so easy for a child to love someone that someone else hates enough to kill. Even after five decades I'm still asking why. And why was the farmer so mad at the other man and not his wife. After all, she was an equal player. As far as I know, he never tried to kill her and he continued to live with her until he died.

All the players in that particular drama are now dead, and thankfully, as far as I know, they all died of old age. The eternal triangle. I would venture to say it goes on far more than most of us imagine, even in sleepy little hot dusty farm towns.