My life is ruined in 2 seconds by the man I call "daddy".

As in most of my writing this story has to do with my daddy, the south and me. Now some of you might get awful tired of hearing about my daddy; I won't apologize. Had you known him you would still be talking about him too. When I was about 8 years old my mother got a sewing machine. A real live sewing machine. One that she could sit and toe those peddles all day. Of course several years later in a temper fit to end all temper fits it went out the window. but that's another story for another day.

When my mother got this sewing machine she turned into Harriet Nelson or who ever was the "Martha Stewart" of that time span. She just wanted to sew, all day long, just to sew. She made the boys shirts (one in particular I remember was full of dark blue cowboys and even darker blue horses). I have no idea what the thought behind that was. And since we weren't exactly the Kennedy's when the money for what little material she could buy ran out, well of course...we went for the feed sacks. Now those of you who are reading this and have never seen a feed sack, much less an entire outfit made of one; well you haven't lived. Mama started her feed sack sewing. She sewed shirts, blouse's, skirts, pedal pushers and of course shorts. Being the youngest I was the last on the list of "to sew for". Seems it didn't really matter if I walked around with no clothes on half the time. Of course with all the dirt you couldn't really tell if I had clothes on or not as at that time in my life bathing wasn't high on my "to do" list.

Finally my time arrived; I was called into the sewing/bedroom to have a look see at the new feed sacks. There was your little tiny roses, your little dollies, and of course your checks and squares. Then I saw it. I swallowed hard, surely no one had laid claim to it yet. I very slowly walked over to the bed acting as if I was in no rush and really could care less what lay upon it. I let my fingers brush across the roses and did a little hummmm and I acted really interested in the dolls (mainly cause I could see my sister eyeing them). Finally I just ever so causally picked up the sack and made a horrible grimace come across my face. "Oh my God, this is so ugly" I said to anyone who happened to be listening. Playing my best poker face and my wild card I tossed it at my sister and said, "here you go these are for YOU", making it sound so horrific. She took one look and threw them back at me. "Your sick if you think I would be caught dead in these" she screamed at me. BINGO, they were mine. I tossed them on the floor and said, "well I'm not wearing those ugly things either". Mama picked up the feed sacks and politely solved the problem, since Karole was the oldest she should get the flowers and since I was only 8 I should get the green turtles. YES YES YES. "Mama, I don't want those ugly things" I whined and even impressed myself with my sincerity. But, no it was settled, the green turtles were mine.

The next few days were torture waiting for her to finish "Miss Perfects" little rosy shorts and shirt. But as all good things come to those who wait the day arrived when I was called in for the "fitting". After satisfying herself that everything was OK mama began to sew. I watched with anticipation as if she were sewing a gown for the ball. When she finished and tossed them to me she said, "O.K. go try them on and let me see". I rushed to our bedroom and quickly threw them on. GOD, I was gorgeous. This was the outfit of the summer. Off white background and tiny little green turtles all over them. Upside down, right side up, dancing, on their backs, standing on their hands. They were PERFECT. After assuring mama that they fit, and gaining approval I was off.

I would wear this shirt and pair of shorts for the next 4 months. If she asked me I would lie through my teeth and say "yeah their clean". I slept in them, I wouldn't take them off. I can see them as plain as day right now as I sit here. If you can be "in love" with an article of clothing I was in love. I wore them so much that they began to fray, and to come loose at the seams. Didn't matter, kept on wearing them, come hell or high water I wasn't taking them off. Of course hell and high water wasn't what I was about to face.

On the last weekend before school was to start my mama and daddy had some people come over to make some home made ice cream. Now when we made home made ice cream the family that we most often made it with, their son had a band. And the band would come and they would play almost all night in the yard. I can hear it now, there was Darrell on lead guitar, his brother Horace on Rhythm, Wayne on steel guitar (and he could make it talk before Peter Frampton could), Jr. on lead vocal and bass. So here we all are ready for the big night. I, of course, am appropriately dressed in my best turtle suit. I was sashaying around in the yard being "me" and of course flirting with all the boys in the band, (even if they were most of them related) they were older and in the "band". So, I'm doing my thing and my daddy and his friends are on the porch listening to the music and churning away on the ice cream.

About this time my mama calls me to come to the kitchen to help her with something, so as I went up the steps to the porch I walked right past daddy. I had almost made it to the screen door when he said, "Come here!" I looked at him and said, "me?" "Yes you, with the hair on your head" (haha so funny daddy). I turned and walked back over to him. He looked at me and said, "do you own any shorts besides those?" I froze, I knew my daddy and I had sick feeling of what was about to happen. "Yes sir" I mumbled. He took another look and said, "turn around" I did. "Do you know the butt is about gone out of these things?" "No sir" I lied. Then before I knew what happen, he put his hand on the leg of my turtle shorts and gave one swift tug. They fell into a million pieces on the floor around me. I was left standing there in my underwear and my shirt. I was mortified. "Now go throw these damn things in the trash and I don't ever want to see them again" he yelled at me. I made a run for the door, tears streaming down my face. How could he? My turtles. Gone.

I didn't care if anyone had seen or not, that didn't matter, what mattered was my turtles were gone. Just tiny pieces of laughing turtles and strings of hand standing turtles. I was furious. I was mad. Now, even at the tender age of 8 I knew there were two things you did not do in this life. You never stood under a tree when it was lightening, and you NEVER talked back to daddy. The end result could be the same. Before I realized what I was doing, I made a bee line for the screen door and slammed it behind me. Having absolutely taken leave of my senses I got right in daddy's face (as he was sitting by this time) "I hate you!" I screamed at him. "I hope you get sick and die". I screamed louder. "I hope you lose all your teeth" (hey I was 8) I yelled. He just sat there looking at me. When I realized the position I had place myself in, I could feel the urgent need to urinate. Like now!

I pulled myself up to my full height and thought to myself, O.K. he's gonna kill me, but I'm going to get this out before he does. "I loved those shorts, and you just ripped them to shreds, I hate you, why did you tear my turtles?" As Janis Joplin sang; "freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose" I started sobbing, I knew my life was over. I was dead, buried, covered up, 6 ft. under, pushing up daisies, bought the farm. You get the picture. I braced myself for what was to come. But, daddy who for as long as I knew him never ceased to amaze me, simply said, "go wash your face, the ice creams almost ready". I looked at him and I knew. He was sorry. He really was sorry. I looked at him and wiped my nose, " yes sir" I said. I went in the house and cleaned up.

The party was a rousing success as always and the band played until almost 4, way after I had lay down on a quilt on the porch with my head near daddy's leg, long after he brushed my hair out of my eyes. And long after he said ever so casually, "got to go in to town tomorrow and get some feed, want to ride with me?" Yes, the party was a rousing success;and I never again thought of those turtle shorts with out thinking how much my daddy loved me.

Kathalise Martin
Feb. 27, 2001
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