Neva's Story
Mama’s pies were so good. She made Sweet Dough Pies with lattice tops and my husband just loved my Mama’s pies. Mama didn’t make just one or two, it was 10 or 12 pies. The family came in the afternoon to enjoy the company and the Sweet Dough Pies and coffee. Later in life, Mama got too old to bake. A big bowl of Strawberry Jell-O replaced the Sweet Dough Pies. I still love Strawberry Jell-O and can see that big bowl of red Jell-O that we shared with family and friends.
Mama had worked hard in her life and her tiny hands were full of spots. She had 12 children and raised 10 of them to adult life. Mama was a Catholic from Mamou and she did not speak English. My Dad was of another religion, I think Baptist and later he became Catholic. He did not speak French but somehow they learned to communicate. At one time, they lived with my father’s mother. One day, my grandmother instructed my mother in English to go upstairs to get the quilting frame. My mother came down with a stack of quilts. She had not understood the English my grandmother spoke.
Soon Mama had two little boys. She wanted to baptize them and so one day she told the family she was going shopping and someone took her in a buggy to the church and she got her sons baptized.
One of the children Mama lost was a 17-month-old boy who was born before I was. One day when one of my sisters, Viola, was washing with the washboard, the baby came with a cup to get water out of her wash tub. She told him “No!” and for him to go play. Later, Mama realized that she could not find him. He had climbed over boards that Mom had the older boys place in the doorway to keep the baby inside. He had walked all the way to the pond and when Viola looked out the window, she saw bubbles at the pond. She called for my brothers who went looking. They found the baby too late. He had drowned.
Everyone, but especially Viola and Mama, was very sad. They took it hard that the baby had drowned. Later, Viola married and had 3 children of her own. They were all older than I was and so I was an aunt before I was born!
When I was only 5 years old, my parents sent me to live with Viola so that I could go to Sacred Heart School in Opelousas. The school was across the street from my sister’s home and each day, she would walk me across the street.
When I was 6 years old, we lived in Grand Prairie and I went to school there but I failed first grade. I had moved from one place to another and that was upsetting to me.
Once, I got a high fever. A lady from school reported to my parents that I had eaten green pecans and that had caused my fever; but, I did not remember doing that.
When I was about 12 years old my sister Pearl died. Pearl and I shared a bedroom and we were very close. I was the baby of the family. Pearl had fallen in love with a young man who was in the service. He lost a leg and felt he could not marry anyone after that had happened. My sister traveled to New Orleans to see him but she came home and went on with her life. She started seeing another boy. One day, the first boyfriend called and said he wanted to come and see her. She explained to her present boyfriend that she had to know which one she would choose and that she would let him come to visit. Well, he never came.
One day, I came home from school and went to the store near my home to read the paper. My mother was visiting someone. I remember hearing a gunshot. I had an idea what had happened. I ran home and started looking and I found Pearl in our bedroom. She was still alive. I screamed and ran for my brothers and my mother. They took Pearl to the hospital but she did not survive. My father sold cars. Someone told him about Pearl and he hurried home but Pearl was gone.
After Pearl died, I was often scared at night if I heard any noises. I was very sad. One day, I attended a retreat. The lady who led the retreat told us that if we were sad about someone, we had to write a letter to that person and tell them how we felt. I wrote my letter to Pearl and told her that it was all right and that I still loved her. The lady took our letters and burned them. Writing that letter really helped me to get over the sadness I felt about Pearl. I had been very sad and unable to talk to anyone about my feelings. But, with the burning of that letter, my sadness left me. I think that anyone who is sad about another person could do what I did. It helped me and, I am sure, it could help others.
I have many other stories I want to write. My hands shake a lot now and I can’t write anymore. Betty is writing for me and I am reading one of her stories. It is really good to spend time talking, reading and writing our stories.
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