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American, Baptist and Democrat As Daddy hitched “Ol’ Baby” to our buggy, I could hardly contain my excitement. I had on my prettiest dress and Mother had styled my hair in Shirley Temple curls. Our whole family was going to see Grandma and Grandpa Chastian. I was 4 and could not remember ever having seen them before. The ride was long, and I fell asleep. When Daddy yelled “whoa” to the mule I awoke to see a chubby, white-headed lady running toward us, with husband at her heels. She held the biggest cookie I’d ever seen. And she handed it to me! Grandma called it a tea cake. Then she lifted me from the buggy and hugged and hugged me. Straight-away I loved Grandma, so pretty in her lace-trimmed black and white flowered dress. Later Grandpa picked me up and sat me on his knee. He had me say I was American, Baptist and Democrat. I didn’t like saying those words and everyone laughing when I said them wrong. That was the only time I remember seeing Grandma. She died a few weeks later. Through the years I learned Grandpa was indeed a patriotic Democratic American and a fiery Baptist preacher. June H. Farist |
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