Rage, Rage!

Today was the first time in 467 days that I hugged my mama. But who's counting?

"Ugly cry" doesn't even begin to describe it. This pandemic has robbed us of so much.

I wanted to pay tribute to Mom by sharing the following true story, which she gave me permission to post. It's from an upcoming project I'm working on. I mean for it to honor my mom. You may disagree how honorable it is, but if so, I respectfully counter: if you know my mom, then you will understand. On days like today, when I remember the former vitality of my mother and I lose count of the number of my own silver strands, stories like this one make me feel like we're all younger and shinier. So rage, friends! Remember and rage against the dying of that light - however you can.

Heffers

A “heifer” is the term for a female cow who has never given birth. A “heffer,” however, is the uniquely Southern word for a woman who is acting as stubborn as a bull, as dirty as a pig, and as dumb as a dog. Sometimes, this stinging arrow is incorrectly aimed at a woman’s appearance – but being a “heffer” has nothing to do with weight and everything to do with temperance.

Most of us, at one time or another, have been accused of hefferism. I first earned my badge in adolescence. My smart mouth and distain for even the basic tenets of housekeeping gave my mother the ammunition required to lob that moniker at me. I deserved it, too. Maybe I took being “as dirty as a pig” too literally, but boy, I was dumb as well. Who actively fights against living in a clean, pleasant environment where there is little strife?

Heffers, that’s who.

I consider myself a 'situational heffer,' but there are others who I am convinced are 'full-tilt heffer' from their hair to their heels.

Mama once told me, "When your daddy first became a preacher, this one woman kept trying to pray with him by herself, away from everybody else. She was real pretty but she was sly. She would pretend to ‘get the Spirit’ at church and act like she was fainting so that your daddy could catch her. I didn’t trust her, and your daddy was a babe in the woods who didn't understand what she was trying to do.

“So I decided to take the bus over to her house. When she opened the door, I told her, ’You better leave my husband alone.’

“She said, ‘I ain’t doing anything wrong. If I want to pray with Tommy, I will.’”

“'No, you won’t,’ I told her, and then I whooped her. I whooped her good.”

I picture my mother, petite, with fiery auburn locks, sitting quietly on a bench, waiting for a bus so she can ride across town to defend her matrimonial territory. I am fascinated by the denouement. After the fight, did she regret her choices?

Perhaps she nursed a wound of her own, a scratch, briefly considering it in the reflection of her Avon compact. I imagine her daintily spitting on a crumpled Kleenex from her purse and using it to wipe blood from her cheek.

“Did you still take the bus home after that?” is all I can manage.

Stubborn as a bull, dirty as a pig, dumb as a dog. The heffer who tried to mess with my daddy ticked each of those boxes. She did my mama dirty by cozying up to her husband. She was too stubborn to relinquish her hold, and she was too dumb to realize that my mama meant business. As a result, she got her butt handed to her.

I am aware, however, that my mama also ticked each one of those boxes. She was too stubborn to even consider that maybe That Woman wasn’t really doing anything wrong. It was a dirty move to show up at someone’s house and threaten them. And Lord above, it was beyond dumb to assault someone – if that’s indeed what happened.

I would describe myself as being ‘as shocked as a fainting goat’ or ‘as still as a hypnotized chicken’ after hearing that story. After all, when the full-tilt heffer is from one’s own barnyard, one may decide to play dead from embarrassment.

May 21, 2021