I Remember Papa Thelma
I am sure most of the memories of Papa Joe will be humorous, but for me the poignancy of his effect on my life is a moral one. Papa was a rather quiet man who spent his time sitting on the porch singing hymns, or about how "they laid Jessie James in his grave." This latter had little meaning for me until I became acquainted with American history in the eighth grade. Other than this occupation, I don't remember Papa doing much more. Oh yes, how can I forget hog-killing time, but that is another story. He never fussed at us. His expression, "take care" or "take air" (I'm not sure which he was saying) meant get out of my way, or you kids stop fussing, and this was enough to make us obey.

My greatest memory of Papa occurred when I was in the 6th or 7th grade. Being poor as Job's turkey, we children had no extra money beyond the twenty-five cents weekly that paid for our school lunch (two-cents a day) and for other incidentals needed at school. At an age where being a popular member of ont's peer group was important, I wanted most to impress my friends at Carver High School with my "riches and generosity". One night I went into Papa's room and found some coins on his dresser along with his false teeth in a glass. Highly motivated to make an impression at school, I borrowed, no, stole a quarter from the dresser. At the school store the next day, I achieved my dream! I bought each of my girl friends an all-day sucker (five-cents each). Needless to say, I was the most popular person in class that day and reveled in all of the attention that I received.

Once back home, I had to face the music. Mama inquired about Papa's missing quarter. I kept quiet, but Melva advanced the information that some of the girls had commented on my generosity to them at school. I vehemently denied every word, but Mama was ready to send me for a hickory stick. I was really in trouble! Mama really knew how to make the legs sting. Papa interceded, "Lee, let the child alone. If her friends meant that much to her, then she deserved to treat them." "Thelma," he said to me, "I might have given you the quarter if you had asked, but you need to know that money won't buy you friendship. Taking that quarter may cost you in the long run because you will have to answer to God for it."

That is all he ever said to me about the incident, but I spent a good deal of my time in regretfulness, and I have never had the desire to take another cent from anyone.