I do think my mother always believed her incredible evil was invisible. Felt but, could not be traced back to her. How foolish. Did she really think four, five and eight years old were young enough ages for her to escape scrutiny? Did she think that phony, clownish ass preaching fooled anyone?
Trying to save Martha from herself was an impossibility. She was our thorn in our flesh. Rather than lamenting, regretting, crying "woe is me" I am celebrating. It had to be the goodness of the LORD.
The older Martha grew the more lecherous she became. It was sad but I only had to be around her maybe once a year. She could behave decently, put on a good act for two or three days.
My mother always kept us triangulated. None of my brothers came around when I was around. We kept up with each other through her descriptions. She hated them. I was the only one she loved. That is the bull she spread on each of us and kept sibling rivalry aflame.
Yes, I had a good time listening to their latest tragedies. Did I ever suspect she did the exact same thing to me just as soon as I hung up? Yes. It didn't matter. I laughed.
I did call her weekly, just like clock work. She was always full of flattery. I got to brag, to feel good about myself. She got to dig me for information in order to plot, to dig ditches, to stab me in the back.
I can't say I was not aware that Martha carried a grudge against me, against granddaddy, against GOD, against the whole world. But, what could I do? Pray. Pray and forgive. Pray and forgive again and again.
She hated racism, of course. Not all racism, though. Just racist that offended her personally. She came home with a record produced by the Klan once. It was just before Dr.King was assassinated . "Martin Luther Coon". She played it over and over, we all laughed.
Slavery messed us up!
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