A Face That Only C Could Love

I was in Glen Allen yesterday..we been there before.

We made a call in a country store and bait shop. There was an older white lady workin' the counter. She got around just fine but she weren't in no hurry. Mostly she sat on a stool, leanin' on the counter..drinkin' [iced] tea. It was a rounded but sprawled appearance...like a snowman made out of bean bags. She was sweet as she could be.

A real contrast with the noise and energy that was coming from the kitchen...where two voices mingled into a pleasant but indecipherable stream of sound occasionally punctuated by jabs of racket or an "O-Kaaaaaay?"

"Connie!" the old lady hollered back into the kitchen. Well, she tried to holler. I don't think she's got a holler in her. "Y'all, Mrs. P**** here with food." Them girls couldn't hear her no more than they could hear me now if I yelled out the window.

Not one to wait around, Mrs. P just got up and went into the kitchen, through the noise, to fetch Mrs. Connie.

"They carryin' on back there ain't they?" I said to beanbag.

"They're sisters. They go on like that all day long" she drew a slow smile, "I love to listen to em."

There was a pleasing cadence to "conversation"....not that you could pick out a word except for the Oks and the "NO...No she din' " that made it clear they were communicating with one another. It was like a secret language.

"I'm Connie...good to meet you." she held her hand out.

I shook it..."I'm Erik and I'm glad to meet you Mrs. Connie."

She could be in early 30's or late 40's, 50's. Hell, I don't know...it's hard to tell with Black women sometimes. They seem to skip through middle age with the same smooth complexion they had in their 20's. It's not til they get really older that the wrinkles start.

Then her sister came out. She did seem younger. Her hair was longer and she was wearing a wool cap that was stretched up as tall as she could get it. They were fun and complained about how the last time I brought chicken wings one of the customers had eaten them all before they could sample 'em. I promised to leave extra this time and they went back to the kitchen...back to their private chatter.

I listened to them and browsed around the store. Somebody had figured out how to stuff wine bottles with Christmas lights...there was a wall full of neon yellow and blue rubber worms...spam...then I came across this...

That's Ms. Connie...and a fish she caught, not far from Glen Allen, in Steele Bayou around Mayersville. Curious. It's a good sized fish but not a record breaker. Then there's the look on her face. Not exactly the expresson of triumph one would expect when you've caught a fish that's made the local paper....or the Jackson paper for that matter. In fact, she looks like she's tryin' to get somebody to take it from her.

Maybe it has something to do with these...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

It's just not safe 'round here y'all...not in the wood, not in the fields and certainly not in the water.

One nightmare for each mangled tooth.