Sunday Afternoon

Sunday afternoons were a special time at grandpa's.  After working hard in the fields all week, he would drag up the yellow metal lawn chairs to the pecan tree.  It sat in the front yard by the dirt road.  He would throw his feet up against the bark, lean back and talk to anyone who was around.  With his outgoing personality, people would gather under the tree to talk and listen.  Every once in a while there would be some 'shine brought to the discussion.  His fields were always the greenest in the area, for when the 'shine flowed the bull shit increased.  His property went downhill from the tree and the bull manure flowed to the edges of his property.  His little investment in the corn squeezing  paid off in the long run.

I painted the gathering around the tree from memory, however I just found this photo of my grandfather relaxing on Sunday afternoon.

The Queen

    Queen drew herself into a smaller ball.  The cold wind coming across the near-frozen lake went straight through her raged coat.  Chilled to the bone, she could not warm herself up.  The only relief was to get behind the wall of the diner to block the wind. As they stood there, they could see the man and his family getting ready to leave. The man and woman walked briskly out the door, bracing for the cold.  They paid little attention to Queen and her plight.  As he looked at Queen and Bob, he grunted and moved on.  The woman did not even look. As the two boys walked out one of them looked and smiled.  The other was in a hurry to get to the warm car.  Not one of them offered to help.
     When it rains, it pours and the owner came stomping out the door.  "Get out of here before I call t;he cops!" he screamed.  Queen looked back and could see him in the glow of the street light, slinking back into the diner.  "You two will run off all my customers." he muttered under his breath.  Bob took it all in stride as he ambled across the wet parking lot.  Queen wondered how he did it, as she despondently followed him.
     He walked up to the two men sitting by a drum, that had a hot roaring fire blazing out the top.  They had a sack lunch each and were eating a cold sandwich.  Bob looked at them with hunger in his eyes and begged for a small morsel.  One of the men split his sandwich in half and gave it to Bob.  His friend said, "Get your friend to come over and warm herself up."  As Queen shyly walked over, he handed her half of his sandwich.  It had been a long time since she had tasted food so fresh.  The warmth of the fire was a relief to her cold aching bones.  She sat down by the barrel and was warmed as much by the kindness of the two strangers as she was by the fire.  The men finished their meal and had to go back to work.  Queen and Bob sat alone by the fire as long as they could.  There was nothing left to burn and the warmth soon died away to coldness.  Bob and Queen decided to look for a warm place out of the wind.
  As the wandered off into the darkness, Queen had no idea where they were going.  She was young and naive with no one to guide her.  Bob was much older and had been around.  Queen had been on her own for a while when she met Bob.  She was going through a food dumpster when bob came out of the shadows and spoke to her.  He could see that she needed a helping hand.  She knew that he was going to be a good friend.  Even though he was older, he never tried to take advantage of her.  Always the perfect gentleman, he waited for her to make the first move.  And she did.  They lay in each other's company all night and until late the next day.  As the sun sank behind the horizon, hunger took over their passion.
     As they moved in search of food, two men came stumbling out of the local bar.  It was a run down dive in the wrong side of town.  Bob, feeling confident  after consummating his love for Queen ignored the danger.  He tried to panhandle a meal from the drunks.  Queen tried to stop him, but he would not be deterred.  She could see the danger as Bob approached the men with a smile on his face.  The short scruffy man with a scowl on his face, pulled a revolver from his back pocket.  He cursed like a sailor as he fired all six shots at Bob.  Drunk as he was, only one bullet struck Bob, and that was just a graze.  It startled Bob and he turned and ran out into the street.  He never felt a thing as the car slammed into him.  Queen screamed as he flew through the air.  When he landed in a tangled heap, she knew that it was over.
    All alone, frightened and scared she raced back into the safety of the alley.  It took weeks for the sight of Bob's death to loosen it's grip on her.  Now she was able to see that her body was changing.  Her breasts were fuller and her stomach was swelling.  It was not fat, for she was eating very little.  Now what was she to do?
     The days were beginning to warm up, so she moved farther and farther from that awful town.  The country side was friendly, with not so many people around.  At night she would scout around and look into garbage cans to find food.  As she lifted the lid on the can under the dim back porch light, she heard the door open.  It was too late to run and in her condition, it hurt too much anyway.
     "Are you hungry, my dear?"  asked Mrs. Johnson.
      "Come on up here into the light, so I can see you."  she kindly said.
     "My, aren't you a pretty thing and in a motherly way."
      "Come on in and let's feed you and clean you up."
     Queen was struck by the kind offer and followed Mrs. Johnson inside.  She put out a nice meal for Queen to enjoy.  Then she drew a bath for her to get rid of months grime.
     "What are you doing?'  the voice belonged to a sleepy Mr. Johnson.
     "Taking care of this poor lost girl." replied Mrs. Johnson.
     "Looks as if it is about time for her to give birth." he said.
      "Yes, probably before morning."
     "Good thing that you are a midwife." he said as he went back to bed.
     As he came back into the room at sun up, he could hear baby cries.
     "How many did she have?"  he asked.
     "Six, and look at that little male over there.  He is the spitting image of Bob."  she answered.
     "I know that you want to keep him, and we will have the Queen spayed as soon as she is able."  he says.
     "Thanks, dear."