As I wrote earlier, this blog seems a perfect place to share some of the memories and events that didn’t make it into the book. One of Earline’s memories that I love is about her Granddaddy Stevens. For me, this scene evokes the peacefulness of a summer evening, the comfort of likeminded neighbors, and the sweet simplicity of a time gone by.
Of all the places the family lived, Earline liked the Brunson place best. Here she and her family stayed in a small house a few hundred feet down the hill from the main home, but still on Brunson property. For the last few years of his life, until 1937 when he passed, Granddaddy Stevens, lived with them. At night Judge Brunson and Granddaddy would sit on their respective porches a partial hillside apart. Judge Brunson would start out singing— always church songs, his voice rumbling out from deep within. Then Granddaddy Stevens would softly join in, the two sonorous voices rising and blending in a distant sweet harmony. The comforting sound floated out into a darkness sporadically interrupted by the twinkling of myriad fireflies. Rock of ages, cleft for me .. . . Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.
Can’t you just hear it?
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