Tusquittee Chronicles Part V

Part V Early Superstitions and Manners

By Claude R. Moss

SAN FRANCISCO–1953–Sometime during the late 1870’s, Nette Hancy, a girl of about ten years old came to live with us and stayed until the early part of 1884. While I was very young she would threaten me with “Raw Head and Bloody Bones” and tell me stories of ghosts which she called “hants” garbed in long white shrouds who would sometimes carry of little boys. One very tall “hant” lived in the Baptist grave yard, and when the nights were dark I would occasionally jump on the horse and ride behind a person passing by. I had a very clear mental image of these disembodied spirits and saw no reason why the people who had gone to heaven should not be allowed to come back for a visit but doubted whether people in the other place would be permitted to leave.

There were also some grown people who apparently believed that the souls of the dead could return and communicate with the living. I remember hearing John Gibson Sr, our renter, tell dad that Grandfather Moss soon after his death had appeared to him and walked by his side along the wagon trail by the creek. With tears in his eyes, the old man told as a  fact–not a dream–the instructions received about tombstones in the Moss section of the grave yard.

“A child should always say what’s true, And speak when he is spoken to, And behave mannerly at the table, At least so far as he is able.

That little poem expresses the attitude of parents in our community during the 1880’s with the exception of Capt. W.P. Moore. When there were guests for dinner, he would invariably serve the children first and any one of them could pipe up without waiting to be addressed.

My early concept of manners was something to be used principally when we were eating, and although I had been taught such things as not to pass between two people talking and not to interrupt the conversation of my elders, we had to be especially careful when there were visitors. At the table our guests could get what they wanted by such requests as “please pass the butter” or “pass the butter” or by reaching for it if they didn’t feel like talking; but we children had to say, “Thank you for the butter” before we could get it.

When I was a child, dad always said grace before means. The plates were bottom side up, and we were required to keep our hands under the table so that we could not turn them over until the “amen” was reached. When we had guests, they were sometimes invited to ask the blessing. A few complied, but most of them mumbled an apology or shook their heads. To a a hungry child, it seemed that nearly all the preachers had long blessings; however Uncle Mahan could get through in almost no time at all. He would repeat swiftly, “Lord, make us thankful for what we’re about to receive. Amen.” And as he would say the word “receive” his own plate was being turned over.

Maud’s table manners were much better than mine. I didn’t like corn bread for breakfast and sometimes wouldn’t eat when there were no biscuits. Mother thought the thing to do was to “whip him and make him eat.” But dad would say, “Let him alone. He’ll come to it.” I have never forgotten when I held onto the gravy bowl with one hand while eating with the other. Mother took it away from me by force and asked our guest if he would have some gravy, but he didn’t care for any. I was small at the time, but not to small to remember the impression mother made on me after our visitor had left.

Next week, I’m five and growing up