Growin' Up Crazy

Mama's family didn't really have money, leastwise, not anymore. Not in the sense that some folks have money, and certainly not in the sheer quantity that Grandmama was raised up being used to, but they continued, just the same, to live in that big, gaudy, old, ancestral home down on the river.

It was the only home Grandmama had ever known.

Grandmama’s great-grandmama, Elise Sherman, way back when, had named the old place Tranquil Oaks—partly on account of all the beautiful and ancient oak trees that grew densely on the property, and partly because of the sheer peacefulness of the place. Her husband, my great-great-great-granddaddy, took her idea and the name of Tranquil Oaks even one step further.

As it has been passed on down to me through our family history and stories, he was the one who had the long row of Live Oak trees planted along each side of the sprawling, main-entry drive. That line of trees stretched all the way from the big, double, wrought-iron front gates at the main road down by the levee, clean up to that wide, impressive set of stairs leading to the grand, front veranda.

In time, the branches of those massive oaks all grew together overhead, creating a long, shadowy-green canopy of intertwining branches and leaves. They offered a bounty of cool shade for the carriages of all the fine folks that were forever coming to call.

The gray-green Spanish moss dangled from the branches overhead and looked very much to me like frayed and tattered lace curtains, or maybe even the remnants of the torn sails of a great shipwreck hanging from the trees above. The whole effect, in grays, greens, and browns, made for a rather spectacular entryway in and of itself.

One could, if he wished, stand at the elaborately wrought front gates—their massive weight supported by two immense, cut-stone columns—and see, a long way off in the distance, framed in a near tunnel of huge Live Oaks, Grandmama and Granddaddy’s big old house peering back at him from the far end.

It was always one of my favorite sights.

An air of mystery and delight completely surrounded and enveloped Tranquil Oaks and seeped over into almost everything we did there. That was one of the things I always enjoyed so much about spending time with Grandmama and Granddaddy. There was never any shortage of fun and magical adventures; leastwise, that’s how it seemed to me.

And whenever things did threaten to get dull, we always had Aunt Ellie, Mama's older sister, to keep us amused. She continued to live at home with Grandmama and Granddaddy, and nobody was ever allowed to mention that she couldn't keep herself a husband. I mean nobody—at least not within earshot of Mama.

Now, Ellie was a character.

She had, at one time, been quite a famous fashion model, traveling the world and collecting suitors and husbands like most folks collect bric-a-brac. But when her career finally fizzled out, her money ran low, and her latest husband fled for greener pastures, she returned home to settle into retirement at Tranquil Oaks.

As local history has it, Grandmama's great-grandmama Elise (the one who had built and named Tranquil Oaks) buried all of her jewels and silver in a trunk in order to keep the Yankees from getting them during the "great siege of the County" way back in the Civil War days. It has been told that, after the terror of the Yankee invasion on Tranquil Oaks, she became prone to "taking a spell" now and again and just plumb couldn't recollect where she'd buried the stuff.

As I understand it to have happened, Aunt Ellie had this very vivid dream one night and swore to the high Heavens above that her namesake, the old lady, Elise, had visited her in her sleep. According to Aunt Ellie, she even told her where to dig for that long-lost, elusive trunk.

From that very day forward, you hardly ever saw Ellie without that shovel of hers. The fact is, she'd cart that danged thing just about everywhere. And she’d talk to it, too! Although there were whispers and rumors about her being tetched, most all of the townsfolk just kind of took it in stride after a while. I’m guessing they just got used to the sight and began to take it for natural.

"I ain't seen Ellie and her shovel for a spell," they’d say. "How they doin'?" just like that shovel was another person.

Ellie was convinced that that silly trunk was buried out back of where the old, dilapidated slave quarters were. I swear the whole back portion of Tranquil Oaks, clean down to the creek, looked like a minefield. She had the patience and perseverance of a saint, God bless her.

Daddy thought she should have been locked up and made no bones about saying so. "I tell you, she ain't safe! She's going to hurt somebody with that damned shovel someday. You just mark my words!"

Of course, Daddy talked like that a lot. I always suspected that if he could have had things his way, Mama's whole family would have been locked up—including Mama.

Mama and Daddy never quite saw eye-to-eye on anything, especially when it came to Mama’s family—and Ellie, in particular. Daddy thought they were all crazy. And for good reason, too.