I was thirteen at the time. Grandpa had been gone for six years and the yolk of running the farm had fallen to Grandma. Some of the Grandchildren, me included, were sent to Grandma’s from time to time in the summer to help with the chores. Virgil and Carrie (her given name) had raised fourteen children so there were many Grandchildren. Grandma was five feet tall in her shoes and looked like an Indian Squaw when she went about her chores. She was one eighth Cherokee so she came by it naturally. Every morning she would grab her three legged stool and her milk pail and walk out to the small fenced in pasture and sit down and milk the three milk cows so she would have a little steady income when she sold the milk. One old barn cat would follow her into the pasture and position itself where she could see it a few feet away. When she got settled in and the cow was comfortable without warning she would squeeze that teat aimed right at that cat. The cat would open its mouth in anticipation. Grandma always laughed as the milk hit the cat right in the mouth! The cat would spend a few minutes cleaning the splattered milk off of its face and then leave her to her work.
After she milked she would slop the hogs, feed the chickens and gather the eggs before coming inside to cook oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. She would roust the lazy grand kids out of their nice warm beds and make them come down for breakfast just like she had done her own children for so many years past. I was the only one at the house on this occasion so I didn’t stand a chance of sleeping in. I didn’t particularly like coming to Grandma Fulton’s house because it meant a day of hard labor. Today I was going to dig up a head post that she had had put in just a few years before. The farmer that sharecropped her fields had bought a new combine and the head would no longer fit through the gate. My Grandma moved fences like most women moved furniture. It seemed every year she moved or replaced a fence somewhere on the eighty acres she tended. I took my time eating breakfast and drinking the fresh from the cow milk. When I couldn’t put it off any longer I headed to the old tool shed and got a shovel and headed out to the front of the property to start the day’s digging. I was a strong kid for my age. After all I got to play on the eighth grade football team as a seventh grader and usually held my own in the playground fights that came my way. And I was pretty full of myself. I had a budding ego bigger than I was so I thought I would make quick work of this post.
Grandma had already removed the fence so I could concentrate on the digging. I had to grab the fence post with one hand and balance both feet on the shovel like a Pogo stick and move the handle back and forth to break through the topsoil matted together with tall grass and weed roots. I’d dig for a while and swat horseflies and mosquitoes for a while. By late morning I had dug what I thought was enough dirt to be able to get the post out. I put down the shovel and wiggled the post back and forth but I couldn’t get the post to come out. I dug more, wiggled more, and pulled for all I was worth but couldn’t get that post to budge. I swatted another fly and threw the shovel down in disgust.
I didn’t know Grandma was standing behind me watching me and having a good chuckle at my expense. She watched as I picked up the shovel and dug some more. I wiggled and pulled but it wouldn’t come out. I sat down at the edge of the hole and picked up a small clump of dirt and broke it up and mindlessly threw small dirt clods in the hole as I contemplated my next move. Grandma, without saying a word, climbed down into the hole and backed up to the post. She placed her back against the post and bent her legs. She grabbed the post and lifted. It came right out of the ground! She let it fall and climbed out of the hole and walked away!
I think everyone in Hamilton County heard the ego of a thirteen year old boy that day as it deflated like an over filled balloon full of hot air flutters around making that disgusting noise. I picked up my shovel and walked back to the shed and threw it in and went off to have a good sulk! I guess Grandma really grounded me!
I learned one thing that day. You didn’t mess with my Grandma!