Mother had a good mind, and she didn’t have much patience with her cooking. She wanted to hurry up and get it done at times. Her okra was wonderful if it wasn’t burned. At times I tried to eat it if it was burned. I love okra.
Mom drove faster than Dad, and when I would get in the car with her, I put on my seatbelt, and stayed quiet. Once we hit a slick of oil in the road. We spun around with the car, but she got it turned in the right direction before traffic came. I believe her quick thinking spared our lives.
In the meantime I was hollering, “Moma! Moma!” She laughed, and straightened the car easily.
Dad was a slower driver. He followed the speed limit, but his driving was easy-going, and smooth. I don’t know of any time that I was afraid in his car. I could talk to Mom, so I chose to be with her when I could. Dad and I would talk some, but he mainly let me talk. It is hard to carry a conversation with little being said by the second person. He could have talked, but he chose not to talk. I guess his shyness, and mine were so alike, that he and I didn’t talk. Can you image a trip to college without talking? I tried all the subjects I could think of and eventually I sat is silence. I don’t remember if he talked to me after I returned from college. Dad was quiet for good reason. I do respect him still to this day.