When my Grandad lived in this house and had farmed long enough to get a dollar or two he built a "commissary" between the house and the road, a bit off to the west side. It was a little country store that sold staple food items and a few other things. Many families of white folks and black folks lived here, and couldn't travel far to "trade", so the little commissaries were all over the countryside. He would keep his open until late in the evening because many folks would come, after knocking off time, to "trade". He bought a "piccolo" and put it on the front porch of the commissary, so the customers could buy some entertainment. "Piccolo" was the local name for the early jukebox. Great crowds began to gather in the front yard to listen (and drink). Grandma began to get a bit scared of the crowds and would lock herself in the house until Grandaddy came home, after closing up.

One night Grandaddy decided to play a trick on her. He normally came in the back door, so that night he eased up on the porch and rattled the doorknob. She said "Who is it?". He didn't answer, but rattled the doorknob harder. She said "I said, who is it?". Still no answer from him. He twisted at the doorknob again, and heard two clicks. He knew immediately it was the hammer on her .32 revolver. He cried out "This is your ever-loving husband Minis Hillis!!". He laughed about that many times, but Grandma never thought it was funny.

Grandma was a very prim and proper Southern lady. She had a cook/housemaid for most of her life, but oversaw all the housekeeping and kitchen duties very closely. She was a superb cook, and taught the cook how to prepare everything to her specs. Grandma and Grandaddy loved to have visiting ministers for meals. The big dining room had a chandelier, and her table was set with white linen tablecloths and fine silver, for company. This was after the Depression, when things were a lot better economically.

In those days black women used all sorts of items as hair pins, and adornments. One day they were hosting the guest minister for a revival, I think, and cornbread was one of the things served. The guest minister bit into his piece of cornbread and bit onto something hard. He made some sound that caused Grandaddy to notice, and asked him "What's that?". The minister pulled a "cut nail", a squared iron nail common in those days, from the cornbread. Grandaddy exclaimed "There's a nail in your cornbread!". The cook, Minnie Clark, burst in from the kitchen and exclaimed "Law, that musta' fell outta' my head into the batter". Mortified ......... is the word I remember being used to describe Grandma's emotions.

SRH

May God bless America and those who defend her.