"We're sticking together

  until we find Jesus," one older lady explained of her friend clutching her arm.  "Getting closer Gladys," she said real loud.  We were at a State Fair and grounded in the smells but feeling ephemeral too as people were streaming to and fro. "Glad you're okay," our radiantly beautiful mother said to the older of the older ladies, one white and one black, two peas in a pod just the same.  We were still real young and could picture the women walking like that all the way to heaven.  In fact, except for the cussers and drunks, we could picture all of us Americans sticking together like at a fair and getting to heaven right from Michigan.

  There were dramatic examples of human behavior everywhere.  My mom and her mom had only recently "reunited" after young mother time away with new family and she was a nervous wreck about seeming perfect.  Twenty minutes of ideal then one of us six kids would blow it.  She countered getting flustered with some pre-worked out sterness that seemed funny until she stuck with it.

  "You're acting like a negro!" One brother stood up on the round and round train and yelled at his country cousin.

  "You mean nigger," the country cousin yelled back.

  Our mother made way over to the attendant.  "WE DON'T TALK THAT WAY," she said to the craning necked boys as they went around.  "Stop the train," she ordered. 

  "No can do chief." 

  "I'll just wait right here then." 

  Round and round went the train and the boys looking.  When the attendant slowed it and slowed it to a perfect stop and they got off, mama whipped a bar of soap out of her purse and brushed it on both their lips.  Crying.  Mama explained, words make people cry too.

  Seemed like an hour or two later the country cousin's mom came storming up to a pile of us all over a bench.  "What's the big idea making my boy cry?" 

  "They were both being ugly." 

  "You come all the way from New York to judge us?" 

  Mom's mouth dropped and she blushed scarlet red and tears blew up like a steaming pot and she shook her head noooooo.  Her lip quivered and she choppily said, "We, just, we don't talk like that." 

  "Weeell mebbee we do."

  "I just, hadn't thought of that, just, Dad, their Dad, we're working really hard not to talk bad about people." 

  "In public," one of the sisters said. 

  Our mother turned purple.  "I'm sorry!"

  The third sister pushed one of her kids at mama but didn't let go of her.  "I'll let you soap up mine." A weak laugh.  "We don't talk bad about people in the country Sis.  But we don't think about everything and try to be perfect neither." 

  "We're far from perfect." Mama put her tired head in her hands.  "But we try.  Gotta try to be better." 

  "We TRY!" One of the six said.  Smiles at the spark of rally then.  And a chanting bunch onto more rides.