Problems with Remembrances

Well, if you’ve been reading my blog, you know I love to write remembrances. Studs Terkel, in a TV interview, gave me the insight to delve into my memories for novel fodder, and I filled my novel The Red Scarf full of remembrances-----but a few problems popped up. I really caused the problems, because not only did I recount a lot of remembrances, but I used real names---in a work of fiction. To further complicate matters, I added a few---well more than a few—fictitious names. That mix made for a very readable novel, but it caused a whirlwind of questions from folks in the two towns that were the setting for the novel.
I’ll go over a few of them. First, even though you tell everybody who will listen that it's a work of ficton, someone will look you in the eye and say, “I know, but who was Rosalie?” Rosalie just happens to be fictitious, in The Red Scarf, but when the reader recognizes a half dozen names of real people that lived and worked just as they were portrayed in the novel, it’s understandable that they would think they just happened to miss Rosalie. So that’s one problem. The other has to do with situations that actually happened back during that time period---and I was involved. Some of those are uncomfortable to discuss in an adult audience. Such as: “Did you and John Clayton really steal a Christmas tree from Mr. Odom’s front yard?” I had that question asked by a prim and proper elderly lady, and I wanted to lie like a sorry yard dog, but I didn’t. I tried to mumble a----“Maybe” but she zeroed in and nailed me. “Maybe is not an answer! Did you and John Clayton cut down and steal, a Christmas tree from Henry Odom’s front yard?” Well, when she said “Henry” I knew she had first hand information, and, even though the statue of limitations had run out, I hated to admit we did. You know it was hard to stand there and admit being a thief---not only a thief, but a Christmas tree thief. Well, I confessed, but I had added to the story. In the novel old man Odom—as we called him, blasted away with his shot gun. That didn’t happen when we were stealing a Christmas tree, being shot at while stealing something happened the night of my Junior-Senior Banquet several years later.

Well, since I’m confessing, I might as well tell you how it happened. It was late summer, just before school started, and the Juniors and Seniors of Norphlet High School were going to start off the new school year with a joint banquet. There were too many Baptists in our town for a dance. We were all supposed to get dates, dress up, and go to a big hotel in El Dorado for a formal sit-down dinner. Well, there were four of us that refused to get a date, and we went to the banquet together. And, since there were only twenty of us in our class, there were a few miffed gals there. The four of us that were dateless left early, and after shooting pool for an hour, decided we needed to do something more interesting or exciting. Edward Lee (these are real names) mentioned the Hick’s farm and their watermelon patch.

“It’s right on the road. I’ll drive by and y’all jump out, run out in the patch, and get a couple of melons. I’ll drive down the road, turn around and pick you up going the other way.”

Well, we all went for it. As we drove along toward the Hick’s farm we pulled off our suit coats and ties. Edward Lee stopped the car to let us out, but for some reason we were a little slow in getting out and by the time we started in the watermelon patch the car had sat there at least five minutes. I saw a light go on in Mr. Hick’s house across the road, but I didn’t think anything about it---until later. The three watermelon thieves headed out in the patch as Edward Lee drove off and boy were there a lot of watermelons still in the patch, even as late in the year as it was. We each got the biggest one we could carry and headed for the road. Sure enough, we had timed it just right, because the car was pulling up beside us just as we reached the road. However, something didn’t look right, and I was about to say so when Giles Ray ran up to the car with a watermelon under one arm, yanked open the back car door and started to get in. Well, in about two seconds, he let out a yell that stopped us in our tracks. It wasn’t Edward Lee in his car, it was Mr. Hicks, and he had a shotgun. Harold Dean and I took off running back across the watermelon patch and Giles Ray ran down the road. I could hear Mr. Hicks yelling as I tried to make it to the woods----wearing a white dress shirt---in a full moon. I don’t know whether he just wasn’t a good shot or we were ziz-zagging enough to keep from being hit, but we made it to the wood with bird shot raining down around us. We kept going until we were deep in the woods, but Giles Ray, who had run down the road, was still running when Mr. Hicks started after him---just as Edward Lee came driving back up. Giles Ray jumped in the passenger side of Edward Lee’s car screaming for him to get out of there, and after a couple of more blasts from the shotgun, aimed at the car tires, Giles Ray got down on the floorboard of the car and held the accelerator peddle down. According to Edward Lee, during the ensuing chase, he made 90 degree left turns going an unbelievable speed as he stomped on the bakes while Giles Ray held the accelerator down. Well, we all escaped—barely.

Remembrances, some of them you just can’t resist using in a novel---even though they might cause a little embarrassment later.