Date: Sat, 19 Jul 2014 13:07:36 -0700
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: In the Great Depression 9

This story is designed to show what life was like in the rural Southeastern
United States in the 1930s.  It covers several weeks during the summer of
1934.  I have researched as carefully as I could to make the dialogue and
events as authentic as possible.  It does contain examples of homosexual
sex, so please be warned!  The events depicted are totally fictional, and
any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.  Actual
places and products are referred to for the sole purpose of adding
authenticity to the story.

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Copyright 2014 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.




                               IN THE GREAT DEPRESSION

                                   by Macout Mann



                                       Part 9

                               Dinner at the Willis's


After breakfast Christopher and Jason both go to the privy.  It is the
first time that they'd had to go at the same time.

"So now I see what the three holes are for," Christopher chuckles.

"Yeah, back when this house was built, I guess folks weren't as modest as
they are now," Jason says.  "And families were bigger."

"I wonder if both sexes ever went at the same time," Christopher muses.

"Don't know about that," Jason replies, "but I remember that we did learn
in history class that back then guys didn't worry about sleeping together.
You could go to an inn and they'd put up to four or five men in the same
bed."

"That might be fun."

"I'd never thought about that," Jason laughs.  "Wake up in the middle of
the night and find some stranger sucking your dick."

"Anyway," Christopher continues, "nobody would be kidding anybody about
getting a piss hard in the morning."

Christopher asks about what they should wear to the Willis's for dinner.

"What you're wearing now," Jason says.  "Maybe something a little fresher."

The Willis house is on a knoll about seventy-five feet behind the store.
More modern than most in the area, it was built around 1910.  The boys tie
their mounts to the wrought iron hitching post just outside the gate.
Sharon comes out to meet them, and the three of them sit down on the wide
porch to wait for her mother to come up from the store.

"It must be so exciting to live in New York," Sharon exclaims.  "Times
Square, Broadway, Central Park, the Empire State Building.  All of those
places we've just read about."

"People think New York's exciting," Christopher answered, "but I think it's
really like living in any other town.  Dad's office is in Manhattan, where
all the things you mentioned are. But when I went to Penn Station to catch
the train to come down here, that's the first time I'd been over there in
about two years.  You can see the top of the Empire State Building from
Brooklyn, but we've got our own movie theaters, stores, and parks.  No
reason to go anywhere else.  Brooklyn itself is a city of two-and-a-half
million."

"Really?" Sharon sounds really disappointed.

"Gosh," Jason interjects.  "That's more people than in the whole State of
Mississippi."

"We do have the Dodgers," Christopher adds.  "And Coney Island.  But we
don't even go there very often."

Drew, Sharon's eleven-year-old brother, shows up.  "When's dinner goanna be
ready?" he asks.

"When Myra finishes cooking it and Mother gets here, silly," Sharon says.
Then she turns back to Christopher.  "What will you be doing when you
graduate next year?" she asks.

"I'll probably be going to City College," he replies.  "That'll get me into
Manhattan every day.

"I'd like to go off to school, maybe Cornell, but I don't think Dad can
afford that.  And I don't have any idea what I want to do after college."

Sharon's mother comes up the path and greets her guests.

"It's really nice of you to have us, Mrs. Willis," Christopher says.

"Yes, ma'am.  Thanks a lot," Jason adds.

Their Aunt Mary always calls Mrs. Willis, "Cuddin Meg."  Around here
"Cuddin" is a universal appellation for any distant relative, which means
that's what almost any member of the four oldest families in the area
deserves to be called.  They would have to be a cousin of one degree or
another.

Only a minute or two after Mrs. Willis arrives, cook's ringing of the
dinner bell signals that it's time for them to troop into the dining room.
The oval golden oak table is set for five.  Mrs. Willis apologizes that
Mr. Willis will not be joining them.  He's had to go to the cattle auction
in Port Gibson.  Most of the ladies here always speak of their husbands as
"Mr. ..."

Dinner is a change from what they have been eating.  Croquettes made from
canned salmon sold at the Willis's store.  They are very tasty, however,
made with fresh onions, fresh egg, and spiced with a healthy amount of
black pepper.  The croquettes are served with the rice that accompanies
almost every meal, fried okra, and turnip greens cooked in bacon grease,
along with the usual breads and iced tea.  Desert is a lemon meringue pie.

"Are these lemons from your store, Mrs. Willis?"  Christopher asks.

"Yes they are, Chris.  Apples and lemons are the only items of produce that
we normally stock.  Sometimes we'll try to sell what's left over from one
of our neighbor's crop, but that doesn't happen often.  We tried bananas,
but you've got to buy a whole stalk, and they start to go bad before we can
sell them all."

"So I guess you learn what to carry pretty much by trial and error?"

"Sometimes.  But there are some things we just can't handle, like fresh
meats.  We do have a big ice box, but it's just doesn't make sense to carry
a lot of things that have to be refrigerated.  We have soft drinks on ice.
Both the Coca-Cola and Nehi trucks come by every week.  RC is almost as
popular as Coca-Cola, and the negroes especially like the Nehi fruit
flavors.  We took on this new Kool-Aid powder.  It's selling well.  When
you make them up, the drinks don't fizz, but they're a lot cheaper than
bottled drinks.

"We do carry bacon and some sausages.  They'll keep o.k. in the ice box.
And we always have a wheel of good American cheese.  But other than that,
it's mostly canned goods, dry foods like rice and macaroni, and the
staples.  Everybody that has a car or a pickup can go to Port Gibson once a
week.  It's the negro trade that keeps us in business, although our friends
buy what they can from us.

"Of course, more and more, gasoline accounts for a lot of our business.
Gasoline and kerosene.  We're thinking about hiring a boy just to handle
the gas pump.

"Very interesting," Christopher responded.

They don't linger over dinner.  Mrs. Willis needs to get back because of
the post office.  Drew disappears to wherever eleven-year-olds disappear
to, and the three teens go back to the front porch rocking chairs.

Soon the conversation peters out, and the boys announce that they'd best be
on their way.

As they are leaving Lorman, Christopher notices activity over at the
schoolyard.

"Oh, that'll be Mr. Simpson's boys getting ready for tomorrow's barbecue,"
Jason says.  "Let's go see."

Miles Simpson, his "straw boss," Lazrus, and a couple of other negroes are
busy preparing the barbecue pit. They have also brought a long trestle
table for all the "fixins" that the guests will be bringing tomorrow.
There's also kindling and about a cord of hickory wood for the fire.

"Chris has never seen a real barbeque pit," Jason tells Mr. Simpson.

In a corner of the playground the hands are digging a hole maybe four and a
half feet wide, about six to seven feet long, and one foot deep.

"Well Chris," Simpson says, "the best barbecue is cooked on a pit like
this, in the ground, where the wood can get glowing hot, but the air
circulating won't cause it to burn up so fast that it chars the meat. Then
the hickory flavor can really suffuse the pork.  It takes a good twelve
hours to cook a whole hog.

"When these boys have finished digging the pit, they'll stack the kindling
all across the bottom loosely enough that it will get a really good blaze
going.  They'll lay the hickory over the kindling.  Then they'll put these
iron pipes across the pit about a foot apart for the hog to rest on.  Later
they'll come back and start the fire.

"The hog'll have been killed and gutted and they'll bring it over about
three-thirty or four in the morning.  The fire will have died down to where
the wood is just a mass of red coals.  And they'll lay the hog skin side up
on the pipes.  Lazrus here will tend the fire to make sure the dripping fat
doesn't make the fire flare up, and he'll add more wood if the coals die
down too much.  Then, like I said, after about twelve hours, you'll have
some of the best eating you've ever tasted."

"I can hardly wait," Christopher says.

"Mr. Simpson's not lying," Jason affirms.

"See you tomorrow," Simpson says.

"Tomorrow's my last day here," Christopher laments as they head back toward
the home place.  "I wish I could stay all summer."

"I wish you could too," Jason responds.  "At least as long as I'll be here.

"We can't go swimming tomorrow because of the barbecue.  Let's put the
horses up and take a swim this afternoon."

"Sounds good.  It's been long enough since lunch...dinner.  I can't get
used to having dinner in the middle of the day."

"At home we eat our big meal at night too."

When they reach the stable, Christopher is even able to deal with all his
tack without Jason's help.  "Next year maybe you can go out west and be a
cowboy," Jason jokes.

"Or be a Western Movie Star like Randolph Scott or John Wayne," Christopher
retorts.

They jump into the water, but this time they are not in the mood to
roughhouse.  After a few minutes they stand together near the bank and let
the water slowly flow past.

What will you remember about your visit, if anything? Jason asks.

"You know goddam well, our being together," Christopher answers.

"Oh I don't mean that," Jason says.  "I mean...well I've been coming down
here since before I can remember, but it's still a lot different from
home."

"Oh yeah," Christopher responds, "totally different.  But you know, now I
realize that you don't have to have all the stuff you take for granted in
the city.  It's not so bad shitting in a privy.  The glow of a candle or a
gas lamp is neat.  I would have never dreamed it was possible not to have
electric lights.  And being waited on hand and foot is something I'll sure
miss when I get back home.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you and Will more with the chores."

"Maybe next time," Jason laughs.  "You could use some callouses on your
hands."

"Like the ones I've got on my ass from riding horseback," Christopher says.

"I don't think I could ever get used to the slow pace of everything,
though," he continues.  "Not that I mind.  But even the rate that people
walk is about half the speed that people in New York move."

"But we probably get as much done as you people do," Jason responded.

"I don't know about that," Christopher says.

The boys take their time returning to the house.  Come night they realize
that it is their next to last together.  They cuddle and enjoy the feel of
each other's bodies, the taste of each other's fluids.  It is very late
when they fall asleep in each other's arms.