Watch Grandma

As a ten year old boy my Mother’s love for her Mother was a matter of conjecture for me. She told me she cheated at dominoes and to watch out for her tricks. Her Mother made no defense. She only cackled and smiled at me. I believe she beat me every time we played.

We accompanied her one Sunday all dressed up for a muggy morning in Oklahoma. We sat in the pew just behind her familiar spot with her cronies on either side of her. She had on white gloves, hat with veil and her best dress. Mother wore her striped down East Coast look that displayed her glow where Grandma stayed cool. The heat from the preacher’s sermon pulled in a breeze from the open windows. My collar was too tight and I pulled my tie trying to be as cool as Grandma to no avail.

The preacher asked in a rising voice how many true believers had read the Holy Bible through and through? A show of hands included my Grandmother McBurnett. Then the preacher asked, even louder, who had read the Holy Bible twice? And another show of hands had Grandmother’s with them but fewer Baptists fessed up. When the preacher asked,”Who has read the Holy Bible three times?”, in his harshest voice yet, I saw Grandma’s hand shoot up.

And at the same time my Mother leaned down to tell me, in a whisper, ”She’s lying.”