Being raised in the country had so many advantages, you didn't have to worry a lot about having on shoes when company showed up. That is, if company ever did show up. It also meant you didn't have to dress real nice and spiffy all day...you know, just a pair of feed sack shorts and an old shirt that your mom had stitched up real quick. 
     Another blessing about living in the country was when your parents went into "town" to buy groceries you knew that they would be gone along time. So that set the stage for some pretty bizarre happenings in our household. 
     One time in particular, my sister Karole, who is two years older, my brother C.J., who is four years older and I were left to fend for our ourselves for about three hours. Now you have to understand this whole relationship thing, C.J. and Karole were like Lewis and Clark, always together, always discovering (mostly what they discovered was that I was a brat and a nuisance.) The old "two is company, three is a crowd" was very much in style in our house. It was a constant battle to be able to tag along behind them, and not be dissuaded by threats of bodily harm. (I found out later in life that the main reason they didn't want me around was they were Smoking! I had proved often enough that given a chance I would squeal like a pig- anything to get them into trouble and separated. You know, Divide and Conquer.)
      So, it was a blessed day which found the three of us alone. Then they got mad at each other. I don't remember what it was about, I just knew that I was in hog heaven. (Had I known how the day would end, I would have been shouting with joy to Jesus that there was justice in the world!) 
     Well, as I said, I don't remember what started the fight, I just knew it was my little sisterly duty to egg it on. And I was good at that. So, I would go from room to room spreading lies, rumors, and innuendo about what the other was saying, thinking boy, this was getting good. I hadn't had that much fun since the Fall Festival. Things started to get out of hand, and before you knew it they were in each other's face. I thought I was going to wet my pants with glee. This was better than Christmas!
    "Boy," I thought, "if I could just get one of them to hit the other!"
    Karole had finally calmed down and was on the sofa reading a "True Confessions" (which could have gotten her life with out parole had daddy walked in) when I thought, "oh no, it's over and it hadn't even got really good yet."
    So, I did the only thing left to do, I told Karole that C.J. had called her a fat pig and that he dared her to come into the kitchen. Well, so what if I exagerrated a little, IT WORKED! 
    Next thing I knew there were feet and fist flying and some words that I am quite sure mama or daddy would have smiled upon. He shoved her, she pushed him and I was walking on air. He called her a name, she kicked him in the shins...Oh boy, I had died and gone to Heaven. This was happiness. And then it happened! I don't remember the exact details of what went where, of who said what, or who struck the first blow, but the next thing I knew he had slapped her, and time stood still. 
    She looked at him for what seemed like an hour (a second at most) and then she started for him. 
    He knew, he knew, he had gone too far, there was no turning back now! In one quick motion he turned and started to run, the only way out was the heavy back door. Just as he made it half way through, he turned to look back to see if she was following and then it happened. She put her leg high in the air and kicked that old wooden door with all her 13 year old strength- just as he turned. The door caught his right ear and all I saw next was blood, lots of it. Wow! This is great! He's gonna kill her now. Then I realized that everyone had just froze in there tracks. He was white, stunned, and she had her hand over her mouth with a look of sheer terror. His ear was split wide open right down the middle just like marking a hog. It was no longer funny. 
    She started crying, "I'm sorry C.J. I'm sorry, Oh, I didn't mean to do that!" 
    She quickly gathered a towel from somewhere and screamed at me to go to the neighbors to use the phone (we didn't have the luxury at the time). I ran up to the neighbors and came back with the wife. She looked it over good and announced that stitches were needed. 
    DUH! It was split down the middle just like you had cut it with a knife. She took him to the hospital, my parents returned and went back to town to see about him. He came home with his ear stitched and covered. He is 52 years old now and he still has that scar. He, of course, forgave Karole, but they both decided that had I not been instigating it would never have happened. So, once again it was Lewis and Clark and I was left out in the cold. 

    But every time I look at him and see that scar, I get this sweet little feeling in my heart, that for one day I was in control of their destiny, and he has the scar to prove it.

Kathalise Martin
May 8, 2000