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Southern Raisin': We ‘sho got in a mess

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Now all I know is what I read and hear. Of course, just because someone tells you something don’t necessarily make it so. But, I was fortunate enough to get a sack full of my school housing from the intelligence committee at Mr. Ben’s mercantile front porch. The philosophers kept in tune with the happenings all over the world. If there was something that didn’t set just right with them some way or ‘nuther’ they’d find a solution quick. If the weather was too hot? Mr. Harber emphasized, “well, don’t worry it’ll cool off pretty soon.” Of course, we might wait ’til October. They had an answer.

Senator Joseph, Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy’s little boy, was trying to prove there were communists invading the United States of our America. If he had looked in the House and Senate, he would have found a bunch of commies, the way they were treating my pore farmers. When he couldn’t locate any, finally his liver just gave out on him.

Neighbor, if Senator Estes had turned his coon skin cap around and gotten the flopping tail out of his eyes he would have seen what was going on. But no, he was trying to make a name for himself and let my ‘pore’ ole country farmers suffer. Yes sir, General Dwight D. and Mamie were parading around on floats and convertibles saluting when they should have been taking care of biz’ness. Did the General know what was going on? I’ll bet the boy had never chunked a bale of hay or chopped a row of cotton in his life. Yes ma’m, Mamie had an Ipana smile, but could she make cat heads or pluck a chicken? What did they know about country folks? Absolutely nuthin’.

Friends, poor ole Adlai was lost in the middle of the Illinois cornfields and the only he thing he ever accomplished, was to tromp down a bunch of corn stalks trying to find his way to Washington. Adlai wanted to be King of the Unites States real, real bad. Once he said he was prepared to wait until Hades froze over. Neighbor that’s a long, long time. He must still be sitting on a gum stump waiting, ’cause he ain’t the czar just yet.

This whole thing started several years before and I’m sure by accident. Herbert wanted to put two chickens in every pot and two Fordson trucks in every garage. Beloved that sounds good, but how many pullets would be left to lay some hen fruit? Not many, that’s for sure. Henry was churning out those solid black horseless carriages in Detroit as fast as he could, but no way could you get two under a tractor shed. Now I don’t know, as I wasn’t around then, but Herbert got things turned bottomside uppards!

Franklin D. came along and found jobs for some of the country folks with the C. C. C. and W. P. A. programs. (Country Club Cousins and We Piddle Around) Yes sir, you know he was a Democrat ’cause he helped the working men in the South! F. D. R. and Eleanor would get on the radio, sit by the crackling fire and talk to folks just like he was in their living rooms or corn cribs and he got their confidence.

Where would my great American senior citizens be without their Social Security? Things were looking up.

But wait. Don’t get too excited as always a red fox is lurking near the henhouse and we eventually discover…..Pitiful, pitiful….GLORY!

Otis Griffin is the author of the book “Southern Raisin.” He was born in Charleston, Tenn., and attended Rosemark Grammar School and Bolton High School.

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