Adopt a Critter

Back when I was growing up, street corner preachers and tent revivals were a very common occurance in small towns and communities, in South Alabama. Another aspect of a way of life that is now gone. This day and age our country in so far away from God that it almost takes an act of congress to cut through the red tape, the rules and regulations that one has to go through to even preach on the streets or have a revival tent.

When the tent revival came to town they set up their tent in a vacant lot next to the train depot. The train was just a small locally owned operation that hauled freight between three of the small towns in the area. All the local people called it the "Tri-Weekly", not because it ran three times a week. But because they tried very hard to keep it running once a week.

On Friday evening when we got in from the fields. My grandma informed my grandpa, that this was to be the last night of the service at the tent revival and that she really would like to go. Pa was always very obliging to Mama when it came to matters of church, and to be honest with you all, everything else as well.

Up until his later years, after Mama had passed away and went home to be with Jesus, Pa wasn't much of a church goer. He told me that after supper he wanted me to hitch up the mules and take Mama AKA Grandma, to town to the tent revival. This was going against the plans that I'd had all week. I wanted to go to the creek and set out bush hooks, cat fishin at night was one of my most likable past times, not to mention the fact that catfish are mighty fine eatin'. But I knew better than to fuss, Mama's tent revival was priority over plans that I had for a fishin trip or any other plans as far as that goes.

After supper, I hitched up the mules to the wagon and me and Mama were off to town to the tent revival. When we got to town there was already several teams of mules and wagons tied around the depot and it was hard for me to find a place to tie the team. The mules that I was drivin' were young mules, not long broken. Still very skittish to say the least. I should have known better, but I was still thinking about my messed up fishin trip. So where I chose to tie the mules was not at all a wise choice. I tied the team to one of the poles that hold up the tent. About the time that someone in the tent came out with a great big "AMEN", that team of mules decided to take off like "Lindburg." They did and took the tent with them, all the way around town and back to the depot. "WHEW!!" I know that when that tent came down, all the people must have thought the "Good Lord" had came back!

That little episode almost caused a mule stampede, that the town hadn't seen in many years past. When things settled down, me and Mama got home, she reminded me of a verse of scripture in the book of Proverbs that says, if you withhold the rod of correction from a childs back you will raise a fool. Needless to say that Friday night the rod was applied, with a vast degree of know how.

Bobby Gene

© Copyright 2005 Bobby G. Bottoms