One summer my Aunt Mavis thought it was such a lovely day she would drive my grandmother, Momma Foster, and her mother-in-law, Big Momma, out to the farm to visit my mother.

Our cousin, Eddie, tagged along in the backseat. Unbeknownst to his mother and the two elderly grandmothers chatting away in the front seat, Eddie had pocketed a couple of Cherry Bombs to show my brothers and me when he arrived.

Like any kid with a coin in their pocket, those Cherry Bombs were calling his name all the way out of town. He just couldn’t wait any longer to see what they’d do. With all the windows rolled down on that nice day he figured no one would notice if he lit just one and tossed it out the window. What would be the harm?

He took one out of his pocket and was fumbling around trying to get it lit with all that air blowing through the windows. It was an effort, but after about the third match he was able to ignite the green fuse. But not on the very end as he had intended. Just a little closer to the bomb.

Quickly, he tried to flick it out the window beside him, but his aim was off, and it bounced off the center post and dropped onto the floorboard at his feet.

There was only one thing left to do, so he did it. He put his foot on it, hoping to stomp out the fuse before it went off. He didn’t.

The following explosion not only surprised him, but his mother who was behind the wheel and the two old women sitting beside her.

The rapture could not have surprised them more. Mavis nearly wrecked the car. All three of the women on the front seat were screaming, thinking World War III had broken out and they were all about to die.

When the car finally stopped and the smoke cleared out, there sat Eddie sheepishly smiling in the back seat. He didn’t smile long.

Thankfully, all the old ladies survived a few more years and lived to tell the tale.

Those were the years when a lot of industries were moving south for cheap labor. Along with the factories came upper management jobs that were usually filled by northern administrators who had experience in such work.

One of the families that came south with the clock factory rented my great aunt’s spacious home on the south side of town.

They were good people and I became friends with their children. It just so happened that they were Jewish. I had never known any Jewish kids before, but they seemed like regular people to me. Evidently, there were a group of men in the area who didn’t think as I did.

They dressed up in their bed sheets and burned a cross in their front yard one Saturday night. Unbeknownst to them my great aunt’s grandson’s bedroom window faced the yard they were having their little party in.

We lived in a small town so he recognized almost all of the voices emanating from beneath the sheets, and went into the den where his father was watching television to ask why So-and-So, and So-and-So, and So-and-So were dressed up in sheets and burning a cross in his grandmother’s yard.

His father jumped out of his chair and ran outside to see what was going on next-door, confronted the Klan members and told them in no uncertain terms to clear out. The folks in his mother’s house were good, decent people and there was no reason to treat them that way.

They cleaned up their mess and cleared out.

The next evening in church there was an altar call as was the custom. At the conclusion of every Sunday evening service the lights were dimmed and everyone in the congregation was invited to come to the altar for prayer. That night something different happened.

Just as the lights dimmed and the preacher was about to announce the altar call my Aunt Ruby stood up. She got everyone’s attention as she spoke.

“Preacher, the Bible says that if we have a problem we should bring it before the church. I’m here to say that I have a problem.

“Last night some men dressed in bed linens and head coverings to match went over to my former home, the one I am renting to a nice family who came to this community to bring jobs to our neighbors, and they burned a cross in my front yard.

“Some of those men are members of this very congregation, and there are a couple sitting among us tonight. I have you know that this is a disgrace to our church and our community. I don’t ever want anything like that to happen again at my house or any house hereabouts.”

Then she turned and looked out into the crowd, “If it does I’ll stand up here again, not on Sunday evening, but on Sunday morning, and I will point my finger at each and every single one of you, and I’ll start naming names.

“Shame on you! Now, I’ll turn the floor back over to you, preacher”

Then she added, “When you announce the altar call, I’d better see all of you men who were at my house last night going forward and asking for forgiveness.”

She was a heck of a lady. As far as I know, no more crosses were burned in anyone’s yard after that.

(To be continued)

The Bennett Reunion at Choctaw Lake in the late 50s.	A gathering of siblings after their mother's funeral. There were 14 children in all. One was killed in World War II. There were twins that were still living at the time of this picture, but Emmitt and Everett. The twins were institutionalized because of mental disabilities.
The sons of my great great grandfather, Joe Mason Bennett. Picture here with their wives are: Left to right standing; Edgar, Lee, Oscar, Dionysius, Joseph Brasfield, and Theodore. Seated left to right; Ida, Sudie, Lilly, Alice, Josephine Bennett Brasfield, and Emma Harper Bennett.	Standing left to right; Tommy Gene Foster, Harold Algood, Larmar Foster, Zawon Foster, Sylvester Foster. Seated left to right: Rochelle Foster Algood, Auline Foster Hall and Mavis Foster Foster.
Several First Presbyterian ladies on here. Annie Beth Davis, Louise Tomlinson, Mrs. Doolittle, Athalea Prisock and Mrs. John Stewart Fair. You can see the hat wearing trend changing in this picture. Younger ladies not wearing.	Ed Livingston's Sunday School Class at the Methodist Church. Judge Henry L. Rodgers, Tonnie Boyles, Charles Yarbrough, Dr. Horton Griffin, Zawon Foster, Eugene King, Harry Bennett, Jack Miller, Troy Donald, Ralph Caperton, Billy King, Melva Pearson, Elsie Foster, Fern King, Joyce Johnson, Bill Johnson.
This house belonged to Miss Annie Williams when I was a child. It was located on South Church Street. There is a grocery store located where it once stood.
The pavilion at Choctaw Lake.

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Rick Algood
August 31, 2021