4

A Day with Lula Wright 4

lamp without a chimney. From this mantel hung a scalloped blue oil
cloth. Down by the open fireplace sat an old iron skillet with legs,
that they use to parch peanuts. All around on the smutty planks of the
walls hung hats and pieces of clothing. A rusty horseshoe hung down-
ward over the door. Old coats stretched over the wooden windows to
help keep some of the cold wind out.

"Heah dat dawg howlin'?" she asked. "Dat's a sign o'death sho' ez
yo' bawn in dis world. Some people don't believe in signs, but I does.

Her sister said, "We had a dawg once; 'member, sister Lu? When dat
dawg howled someone sho' died. Dat's de truf. Yas, suah."

Then Miss Lu interrupted, "Yas suah, las' night my hands etched
an' I rubbed dem tergether and see dis mawnin' I gits de smoking tobacco.
Same as money ain't hit? Yas suah, I believes in my signs."

"No'm I ain't lived in this community all my life", she replied to
my question. "I wuz bawn in 1868 in Cotton Valley, not fur over the
way, in dis county of Macon. Yas'm." She kept on as she leaned forward
slightly in her chair, folding her arms in her lap, gazing straight in
the fire. "My ma an' pa had leben chillen, seben boys and four girls.
Ums de oldes' girl." Her sister sat there witnessing every statement.
That was about all she could do for "Miss Lu" always did the talking
when she had company.

"Did all of your sisters and brothers get a chance to go to school?"
I asked.

"Yas ma'm, ev'ry one uv us went ter school 'ceptin' Laura an' she
died 'fore she wuz oler 'nuff ter go. Yas ma'm I loved my gwine ter
school an' I had good teachers too. I went ter school til I wuz in
de fifth grade. I coulder went on but all dem wuz in my class dey
married an' I jes' stopped 'cause dey all stopped but I coulder went

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