Our old barn was the center piece of many happy days of my youngest side of youth.
I was the revival preacher and 2x8 plank piano player. The preacher part was easy, the piano plank had to have the keys outlined in black and blank with using Daddy's carpenter pencil. The pencil, kept in his toolbox had to be for sure put back, otherwise things would go from bad to worse if he knew we had messed in his "off limits" stuff.
Our barn was built with the middle having a gated drive through with left side doors opening into two rooms for holding cotton in one room and corn in the other, right side had a room that held a 50 gal. drum of tractor fuel, cans of axel grease, quart cans of Pure oil, tools and all manner of things farm implement. We stayed out of that room. The next opening on the right was into the stall holding the troughs for cow feeding and milking station. It was backside opened into the barnyard.
The loft was entered by way of a ladder attached on the wall. A large opening for lifting in bales of hay was the place we needed to be careful around if the baby was hanging out with us.
Mostly the baby got up on it's own,
" Huma gippie nemama".
"Suprise!"
" You in trouble now, how'ed you get up here"?
"Now stay behind there until we go down, if you fall it will break your legs".
" No ,no, stay back there".
"Im'ma make you go back to the house".
" Whine.........Huma gippie nemama".
" SHUT...............UP!"
The baby was brought down by the cooperation of one of us going down first to break a fall and one to hold the back of the diaper.
"Easy now".
" Mama gonna spank yo hind end".
"Whine........................Huma gippie nemama"
"SHUT........................UP!"
Baby thigh got slapped.
"Come on, you in trouble now".
Our supply of syrup was stored along the lowest slope of the roof. The hay was stacked to the ceiling in back and formed into a stage by us for our play. To climb to the top of those stacked bales and tumble down to fall into a pile of loose peanut hay was heaven on earth fun.
Rainy days the hay loft was where we spent quality and creative time. Old rat snakes lay along the rafters and had to be corn cobbed away before we crawled into our straw bale forts to hide and shoot Indians. We built and rebuilt forts, we broke open the bales to find peanuts for our own pleasure and for lying to Mama that we picked them out from the edges as we begged for her to make brittle from our gleanings. Those opened bales better be in the feed trough by sundown because Daddy was no fool to believe the scattered hay was an accident.
The barn had lean to sheds on both sides. On one side was the place for the milk cows and their newborn calves to shelter during the night. The other side was where Daddy parked our old chevy truck we had named, " Blue Goose".
"Blue Goose" was used for hauling cotton, hay, corn, firewood, groceries and young'uns to church.
During times of entertaining ourselves we would get the urge to hold church revival.
We would move " Blue Goose" to outside the shed by one of us putting the gears into neutral while the others pushed it outside.
Now, let the preaching, praying, shouting and singing commence.
I was always the preacher because I had the "gift".
I made the congregation sit on planks propped on blocks of wood and empty syrup buckets.
I opened the service with playing those marked on plank keys while we sang songs of praise.
" Turn to page 251".
" I'll Fly Away".
"Please turn to page 55".
"Louder this time".
"When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder".
The sermon would get going with gusto.
I would speak clearly about how hot Hell was going to be if my congregation didn't seek Jesus.
Then the speaking would go off the charts,
Tongue speaking here,
" Oh shundeemiohfalalala............."
The last sermon I ever preached in that old truck shed ended with the worst punishment I ever got.
Just as the shouting tongue speaking, head jerking, foot stomping, jumping and flailing of arms and head rolling was in full out frenzy.
DADDY SHOWED UP.
***Second Revival.
The second tongue speaking, head jerking, foot stomping, jumping and flailing of arms and head rolling went into full out frenzy at the end of his leather belt.
"You better NEVER let me see you mocking the worship of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior ever again".
Daddy's face was as red as a turkey waddle.
My skinny legs took a welting.............
"All of you young'uns better put that truck back where it was parked and it better not hit my shed."
" I ashamed of all of you."
" Earline, go pull some pusley for the chickens".
"And draw some fresh water for ALL the stock tonight".
Daddy walks off with..........
"Natter, natter, natter, mumble, mumble...........Lord help us".
