I like books.


I live in a small town and enjoy writing about the inhabitants. I spend most of my time perusing through used book stores looking for that one great book that I don't have; consequently, I have rooms filled with books. I am a book addict.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

The Rain Dance

In the river valley where I used to live, by now, the grass is dead and the leaves are dying. For some reason, the town where I lived gets very little rain. It can be raining ten miles up the road and not a drop in my little town. They are very religious, those folks, and I am always teasing them that they don’t have enough faith or god would give them rain. They get mad.
When my grandson number one was born, it had not rained in five weeks and the ponds were drying out and the farmers were not getting enough grass for grazing and the hay was burned and all of that. My grandson was born into this inferno and his father and his father’s family is devout Catholics and against my wishes they had him baptized when he, my grandson, was only a few days old. Afterwards, there was a giant party, complete with food and beer, yes they are drinkers, and it was nice but the topic of conversation was the lack of rain. The priest was there and they were telling him to light candles for rain and all of this and it was like the middle of August and I, being of intelligence and reasoning, had watched the weather channel and the meteorologists explained that rain and lots of rain was going to plague the much needed dry state of Arkansas. Apparently none of the country folk at this party knew about the weather channel and I take that opportunity and I say, I performed a ceremony for rain yesterday, of course I had to catch a frog and whisper in his ear to spend his time singing and not croaking. The small children gathered around. I continue, yes the frogs, see, they have powers to know about rain and how to get rain. When the ponds start getting so low that they are threatened, they will quit croaking and start singing. You will hear them singing with the tree frogs late at night and even the cicadas aren’t as loud as the frogs. One boy says was it a toad or a bullfrog, I say, why of course a toad, they are the ones who are bewitched by the mean old witch and they know powers from having been bewitched. The adults are getting pissed that I am telling such tales, but I am the baby’s grandmother on the mother side, the Baptist side, so they tolerate my foolishness. Then I look at the children and then to the priest, who, by the way, was listening as intently as the children, and I say, the rain will be here today. The frog promised me if I would stand on the porch and do a dance, the rain would come. The kids ran to the porch and they began doing a dance and I encouraged them to sway back and forth and the mother of my son-in-law said they looked foolish and for their parents to make them stop and I say they are having fun, and suddenly, without warning of clouds a rumble is heard then wind and then the sky darkens and the rain begins to pour from the sky and the children ran in and told me they made rain. The one boy says to my grandson, who was unaware of all the events, your grandma is so smart. True story.


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