My first husband, Dan, and I drove down to meet his parents in Middlesboro, Kentucky in 1969 when our firstborn, Doug, was teething. With all the packing, I forgot to take teething gel . . . which was the only thing that seemed to soothe his pain.
Sharlene, my mother-in-law, was a stout, curt woman who hailed from the back woods of rural Tennessee. Her long, straight gray hair was usually pulled back into a tight bun. She favored print dresses that dangled between her knees and the floor but always wore a white apron even when it had yellowed somewhat. Strangely, Sharlene had never worn make-up, pants or pantyhose. She wore elasticized half-stockings that went to her knee.
George, my father-in-law, was a tad shorter than his wife and looked every bit of eight months along. Wisps of hair stuck out here and there on his head. His dark eyes never quite focused right as, during World War II, George had a argument that ended only after acid had been thrown in his face. He was legally blind in both eyes. Always in overhauls or blue jeans with a patterned shirt of some sort, George was as friendly as a body could be.
Although Dan was the oldest of ten children, his parents had a ‘thing’ about noisy children--shut them up or take them outside. Shortly after we arrived, Doug was screaming in agony with his teeth.
Sharlene offered us an old wives’ remedy. “Dan, go with your brothers and fetch me a rabbit. That baby of yorn is driving me crazy!”
Dan, of course, knew his parents far better than I did. Though my parents were also from Kentucky, they had all of us (six) while living in Ohio. We were considered ‘city-bred’ by his folks standards. He looked at me as if to say. ‘Did I want him to go?’ That made me leery of this remedy.
His mother caught the glance, sighed and wrung her gnarled hands on her ever-present apron. “You don’t want that youngun fussing all night, do ya?” She dismissed him quickly. “Go. Git!”
With Dan’s obvious reluctance, I was sure the ‘cure’ would be worse than sitting up all night. “Please tell me what you intend to do first.” Their ways of dealing with everything never ceased to amaze me. I had no idea inking of what her intentions were. “Why do we need a rabbit?”
Sharlene knotted her brow while admonishing Dan . . . again. She breathed laboredly as if exasperated. “You had to marry a citified gal!” Then she turned to glare at me in total disappointment. “We don’t need the whole rabbit, but waste not, want not! I only want its’ heart!”
“What on earth for?” I gasped. “How will that help Doug’s teething pain?”
Sharlene was the head-of-the-house and was not used to answering questions from anyone about anything. She shrugged in annoyance. “Ain’t your folks from hereabouts in Kentucky? Yore Daddy would’a known about these things.”
“Yes, my Daddy was raised in Middlesboro but he died when I was five years old.”
“Didn’t yore Ma teach you anything or was she citified too?” Displeasure, rising and reddening her features, accentuated the wrinkles about her face. Sharlene poked some strays ends of hair back around her ears. I made her nervous. She’d said that many times previously.
“My mom’s parents both died before her third birthday. Mom grew up with an aunt in the home of her mother’s parents. They lived on the outskirts of downtown Paintsville, Kentucky.”
“Citified woman!” Sharlene huffed, unsettled and steaming.
I wasn’t sure if she was going to explain or not. She was obviously quite upset with me. Suddenly, frustrated, she spat out the words. “Why you cut the heart out of the rabbits’ inners and thrust the warm, still beating organ, into the baby’s mouth.”
Quickly the blood drained from my face. I felt nauseous. “WHAT? WHY?” I clutched Doug closer to my chest hoping to quiet him and then impulsively turned to Dan without further adieu. “You can go to the drugstore and BUY what we usually use OR we can go home. There’s no way I’m sticking a bloody heart of anyone or anything into our baby’s mouth!”
Scarlet-faced, Sharlene angrily stomped her foot as Dan rushed to the door. He dashed away before she could stop him though she yelled after him. “You hen-pecked son-of-a-gun. You ain’t worth spit!” The screen door was still clanging as Dan backed out of the driveway leaving a puff of smoke behind him.
Breezing past me with a mighty huff, his mother complained all the while about me and my ‘high and mighty’ upbringin’. Abruptly she turned, wagged her finger and wickedly intoned, “Throw your money away, but don’t you come crying to me when it’s all gone!”
Dan wasn’t gone long though I know it was extremely difficult for him to face his mother again. She guffawed and complained all the rest of the evening without directly speaking to either one of us. Fortunately most of Dan’s siblings still lived at home so we weren’t totally shunned.
Knowing his mother, Dan not only bought Doug’s medication, he bought me a hamburger, drink and fries. Sure enough, Sharlene served rabbit stew for dinner that evening. She hadn’t taken Dan’s ‘no’ to mean anything and had sent some of the other boys to fetch the rabbit.
Doug’s medication worked wonders and he slept peacefully. I ate in our ‘room’ . . . which we shared with several of his sisters . . . and didn’t rejoin them until after dinner was over.
I didn’t have the heart to indulge in rabbit stew!
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
