by Patricia (Pat) Corbett Keadle
I remember visitin' my Aint Margret (age 90) one day. She lived in one a' those big ol' houses up above the ground so the farm plows n' tillers could be kept unnerneath. It was built in the mid 1850's.
Anyhow, we walked up 'bout 16 treads to the back screen door and she greeted us. Then she said "Buist" (my hubby's name being Bruce) but never mind. "Buist, would you go down and fetch me that hoe by the bottom step?"
Bruce did. Then Aint Margret (all 90 years and 90 pounds o' her) traipsed back down the steps and chopped the haid off'n the copperhead that was sunnin' hisself at the angle of the ground and the riser of the first step.
She then got back up the steps and we had a fine visit. We all went back down the steps on the way to the car 'cept Bruce.
He chose to go out the front door and wobble across the front porch that sincerely needed a lotta patchin' before it woulda been safe to traipse down.
Anyhow, Aint Margret passed on not long after that, and we laid her to rest in the graveyard in the back. Its occupants go back to the 1740ís. Kinda nice visitin' them and rememb'rin that copperhaid.
Pat Keadle graduated from Nursing School at the University of South Carolina (downtown U) a really long time back. (She says they had metal bedpans and glass syringes at that time.) She swears she is Southern by the Grace of God. Her mama was an imported Yankee from New York City. Pat's daddy was a Marine -- and who could resist that blue uniform and white hat? Pat can trace her "Daddy's people" way back to the 1700s. She lives about 3 miles up from her daddy's homeplace with her sweetie, Bruce, hubby of 41 years.
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