CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A.J. Crawford
Beloved husband and father
THE folks of Dogwood Alley filled Solway Church of God to capacity and overflowing. A.J. Crawford had been well-liked and respected. He and his boys had lent a helping hand to practically every neighbor at some time or another. Not only that, but he had served as an example to young farmers, having worked his way from sharecropping to owning his land. He had shared his wisdom and experience with young men of the community, and been a loving
father to his children; all the ones still living came to his funeral and shed tears.
Fred preached the funeral, and led the procession to the cemetery next to the church. They walked along slowly, the congregation singing “Amazing Grace” as it began to lightly rain. For the few superstitious of Dogwood Alley, rain during a funeral was a good sign; a Victorian remnant belief that rain meant the deceased would go to heaven. No one present doubted A.J. Crawford’s heavenly reward.
After the casket was lowered and the final prayer said, Margaret wrapped her arms around Fred and walked with him back to the church. He sobbed and held on to her as if he might fall over without her support.
“He was fine just the other day. I helped him fix the chicken house roof,” Fred told her.
“I know. It does feel awfully sudden. Doc said he had to be sufferin’ for some time though.”
Fred nodded. “Probably was. Wouldn’t’ve told anybody.”
They entered the church, and Fred asked Margaret to take the children home while he stayed there. She obliged.
Once he was alone, Fred knelt at the altar and began to pray, “Dear Lord…You have my father with You now. I don’t know why You saw fit to take him, but I know I got to trust You with that. Momma ain’t got a husband, my brothers and sisters and I ain’t got a father. You said in Your Word that
You are the I Am, meanin’ You are whatever we need. So You need to be a husband to my momma, and a father to me and my kin. Fill the hole in our hearts. Give us that peace that passes all understandin’. In Your name, Amen.”
***
Following the graveside service, the family and their closest friends gathered at the farm for supper. The long wood table built a few years back was pulled out under the same dogwood trees, and neighbors lent chairs to help seat all the guests. Every individual mourns differently, but in the Crawford family, it was pretty much the same for everyone. Crying and such were expected during the funeral service and at the grave, but once everyone was gathered together, it was time for the fun to begin. Telling jokes was a Crawford tradition that even second and third cousins shared.
“A city boy saw an ol’ farmer loading up his truck, and stops to ask him what he’s doin’. The farmer says, ‘I’m repairin’ to leave.’ The city boy says, ‘I think you’re mistaken. To repair something means to fix it.’ The farmer replies, ‘That’s what I said! I’m fixin’ to go!” The group of young men gathered around Paul Crawford, one of A.J.’s sons, burst into laughter and gave Paul many pats on the back for his excellent sense of humor
.
Bert and Doris were not accustomed to such joviality during a time of mourning, but the Crawford’s had a way of reeling people in, making them feel like family, and eventually join in the laughter. Doris walked off to find Margaret amongst the crowd of nearly fifty people, and Bert joined Fred to be introduced to some relatives all the way from Indiana.
“This here is Uncle Sam and Aunt Belle.” Fred made the introductions and Bert shook their hands. “Aunt Belle,” Fred said, “I’d give you a hug, but there ain’t enough people to go around!”
Bert stood there mortified, but in a split-second Aunt Belle was guffawing.
“Oh, Fred!” she could hardly speak for all her laughing, “you’re as ornery as you ever were!”
Aunt Belle was certainly a woman of girth, and Bert was hesitant to even smile for fear of offending her. But, after a few minutes of observing the banter between her and Fred, he realized the teasing was mutual and allowed himself to release a chuckle or two.
***
Margaret and Doris wandered towards the woods to escape the noise and have a private conversation.
“I don’t know what to do,” Doris admitted. “Now that the war is over and our soldiers are coming home, people expect women to leave their
jobs and stay home. The clinic has two doctors returning from overseas, and they may not even need me anymore.”
“So you want to keep working?” Margaret asked.
“I honestly don’t know. Part of me wants to continue my work as a nurse, and part of me wants to stay home with the children.”
“I wish I could offer some kind of advice to help you make a decision. I know what I can do, though. I can pray.”
“Pray hard, Margaret,” Doris said with a laugh, “this is not an easy situation for me. I want to do the right thing.”
“Of course you do. All the more reason to pray for wisdom and guidance.”
Doris put her arm around Margaret’s shoulders and gave her a hug.
“Is this how you make all your decisions? Praying about them?”
“Yes! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed about something and God sent me the answer just in the nick of time. Why, I don’t know what people do without prayer! How can you even face all the troubles this life brings without being able to take it all to God and leave it there with Him?”
“Maybe that’s my problem. I take my troubles to God, but I can’t say I leave them there. I think I pick them right back up and carry them along with me.
”
“Lots of people do, especially those of us who are problem solvers. We think we’ve gotta figure it all out for ourselves. But, the Bible says to cast all our cares on Him, not load ‘em up and haul them on our shoulders.”
“You know what else I can’t believe people live without?” asked Doris.
“What?”
“A friend like you!” The women hugged again, and turned back towards the gathered family.
“I’m starved. Doris, please tell me you brought that delicious potato salad of yours.”
“I did! Just for you,” Doris replied with a laugh.
“Then we better hurry before Aunt Belle gets to it. She’ll eat it all!” Margaret said as she led Doris by the hand, running towards the table of food.
***
Bert sat in the office of his boss, the editor-in-chief, and waited for Mr. McNeil to finish his phone call.
“Yes, Dear. I’ll put that on my honey-do-this-now-before-it-snows list. Love you, too. Bye!”
Bert laughed, “I see you’re still taking orders from the real boss.”
“I love that woman. I really do. But, if she thinks of one more thing for me to do…” McNeil waved his hands in the air like a mad man
.
“Is that why you called me in here? Want me to handle some of your chores?”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea!” joked McNeil. “But, no, that’s not it. Listen, I’ve got some bad news.”
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s not bad for you. At least not yet, anyway. As you know, radio is kicking our tail. We’re losing readers, and therefore, losing money. I’ve gotta let two men go.” McNeil hung his head, and looked forlorn.
“I thought you said this didn’t affect me.”
“It doesn’t. I’m not letting you go. You’re talented and well-known. I need you to help me figure out which men…”
Bert squirmed in his chair. The thought of this made him terribly uneasy.
“What’s your criteria?” Bert asked.
“Well, it would be easier if it were men without families depending on them. Maybe one of the younger guys like Tom. He’s got potential and gumption. He could make a go of it somewhere else if he had to.”
“Agreed. Then, how about Richard? He has a wife, but no children. And his father owns that big lumber yard. He might be able to work there at least until he found another job in this industry.”
McNeil nodded in agreement.
“You know…I love the newspaper business. It’s all I’ve ever done. I started out as a paper boy, and
look at me now. But, it’s not gonna last. Won’t be long ‘til radio replaces us altogether.”
“You really think so?” Bert asked, hoping McNeil might confess otherwise.
“I really do. Enjoy every moment writing at that desk. It won’t be there forever. Maybe you should start on that novel,” he said with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” Bert paused and thought, “maybe so.”
***
Fred brought home a bouquet of flowers to Margaret, and greeted the children with tickles and forehead kisses.
“You’re all smiles today!” commented Margaret. “These flowers are lovely! Thank you.”
“Once you get them in water, come back in here. I’ve got something I want to tell you.”
Margaret’s first thought was that something was wrong, and the flowers were simply to soften the blow. She placed them in a vase, filled it with water, and carried them to the end table by the sofa.
“Have a seat,” Fred instructed.
Margaret sat down and gave Fred a curious look.
“There’s some property bein’ developed for houses,” Fred began. “And, there’s a corner lot that I really like. I think you’d like it, too.”
“Where is this? Here in Dogwood Alley?”
“No-”
“We can’t leave here,” Margaret interrupted
.
“Listen. It’s not far from here, still in Solway. It has a pretty weeping willow tree like the one at the church.” Fred hoped this would sway her.
“Our family is here! Your mother is gonna need us now more than ever. We can’t possibly move. Besides, how could we afford it?”
“I got a small raise today, and we’ve been saving our money, doin’ real well. We could build it ourselves.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll think on it.”
“I will. And I’ll do even better than that. I’ll pray about it.”
Fred smiled. “What are ya gonna pray? It don’t count if you only pray against it,” Fred teased.
Margaret smiled back, “I’ll pray the prayer that works regardless of how I feel. ‘Thy will be done.’”
***
Carrie Crawford sat in her rocking chair, listening to the fire in the stove crackle, and sewing a patch on a pair of overalls for one of the boys. She couldn’t even remember which son it was that the overalls belonged to, but that didn’t matter. She was missing her husband terribly, and her mind was filled with bittersweet memories of days gone by. Each moment brought both joy and pain as she savored the good times they had together and longed for
more to come. Some days she was mad at A.J. for not going to the doctor sooner, for not listening to her when she told him he needed to take care of himself. Other days she was mad at herself for not calling the doctor over in spite of A.J.’s assurances that he was fine.
On this particular night, she wasn’t angry, just sad. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she brushed them away with the sleeve of her dress while still holding the needle, thread and overalls in her hands. She sat there rocking and thinking of the man she loved and lost, and all his favorite things. He loved to wear overalls. He loved to rock in a rocking chair. He loved to hum hymns. Without even realizing she was doing it, Carrie began to hum. And then her hum turned into softly sung words…
There’s a land that is fairer than day
And by faith we can see it afar
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there
In the sweet by and by
We shall meet on that beautiful shore
In the sweet by and by
We shall meet on that beautiful shore
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