FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: This life story begins in 1973 (kind of) part 52
After gathering herself, Mama continued with her story about Buella Mae and meeting Daddy.
“Buella Mae was barely twelve years old when she died,” she said. “Ma called daddy – Preacher Harvey – before they even came to take the poor baby away, and she asked him if he could please come out to the farm as soon as they got back. Ma rode right beside Buella Mae in the ambulance that came to take her away. Ma never was the same after that, seemed always to have a distant look in her eye. I think Daddy and Mama gave her a sense of peace, because Daddy always had heaven on his mind, too. I think Ma could see that. Everybody had a great deal of respect for Daddy’s preaching and work, and Mama had that special way that could comfort anybody.”
Mama went on to talk about how Grandma was a ‘House,’ and the Houses had that special quality of kindness, and Grandma had a double portion, “much like Elisha,” she said, showing her own Bible knowledge.
“I’ve wondered,” she went on, “if they didn’t save her life, because Ma wasn’t a strong woman generally, and losing a child that way was more than anybody could bear. I know that Pa and Zeke made sure that they hid that rifle and all the other guns in the house because they were afraid that Ma would do something bad to herself if she got a chance.
“Mama and Daddy took me with them out to their farm that evening. Zeke and the Bowens lived off of a dirt road off of the Whitesville Road, about ten miles out, and the dirt road was east of the highway a couple of miles, just past a well-known little creek called Mud Creek where my boys and their cousins would swim in the summer.”
Mama paused and glanced at me, then gave Corrina a smile.
“Mud Creek wasn’t your Pup’s best friend, I guess,” she said. That was the creek that he fell into when Zeke took him coon-hunting that time, and then, a few years later, Billy Ray almost drowned down there when he was ten. That’s a hard day I’ll never forget, too,” Mama said, shaking her head and pausing.
“Almost drowned?” Corrina said, jumping in, the concern in her voice as though it had happened yesterday.
“I’m sure Billy Ray will tell you that story,” Mama continued, “because I don’t think I was ever as scared and mad at the same time as the day our older two boys Cliff and Douglas came home and told me about what happened. I’d better not tell that, or I won’t be strong enough to get through the story. But what I wanted to tell you was how we all went out there to try to comfort Ma and the family that evening. I had never been out there, and I didn’t know what to do when we pulled up into the driveway and Mama and Daddy got out. I didn’t want to be in the house with Ma being so distraught. It was awful. When Mama and Daddy went into the house, I stayed out on the porch for a while, but then I saw where they had covered up the spot where Buella Mae fell. I walked out by the dirt road to look at Buella Mae’s flower beds at the edge of their front yard. Ma said that Buella Mae planted new flowers every Spring, because she loved flowers so much. When I saw those flowers, so pretty – tulips, lilies, and sunflowers – I couldn’t help but cry. I kneeled down by them and started sobbing. It was the worst day I had ever seen. Zion and the other four boys were sitting out around the huge, hundred-year-old Oak tree on the other side of the yard. They didn’t know what to do any more than I did. There were only two girls in the family, Buella Mae and Fanny Ruth, and Fanny Ruth was in the house trying to help with Ma, so they were left alone.”
I noticed that when she mentioned Fanny Ruth that Mama left off that her own first name was Fanny, too, which was a popular name back then. Years later when I had to name my own children, I wanted to name my daughter after Mama; but I chose ‘Louise’ over the Fanny, and I’m sure Rachel Louise appreciated that.
“Zeke saw me,” she went on, “and he must’ve been watching the whole time, and when he heard me sobbing he walked over and kneeled beside me and told me how sorry he was. Of course, I was the one who should’ve been comforting him, but he was kind that way. He was tall, dark, and handsome – just the way you always picture somebody you would marry – but I didn’t even pay much attention to that then. It was his kindness, and his gentleness that struck me. From that day on, Ma and Pa started coming to church and brought her whole clan. My Zeke had his own car, a ’31 Ford, and he’d drive it so he could come over to eat Sunday lunch at Mama’s, which was like eating Thanksgiving dinner.”
Mama paused, a little gleam in her eye, and added, “I always told Zion I think the reason he wanted to marry me was because Mama could cook so well. Of course, he denied it and would always say, ‘That wasn’t the reason I married you Lou’ – he almost always called me Lou – “that was only about eighty-five percent of the reason.’”
Corrina and Mama both laughed, and I opened my eyes a tad and noticed outside that the rain had stopped beating against the window; and a gleam of sunshine shone through for the first time.
Coach Steven Bowen, a long-time Red Oak teacher and coach, now enjoys his time as a writer and preacher of the gospel. And, after a ten-year hiatus, he’s also returned to work with students at Ferris High School as well.
In addition to his evangelistic travels, he works and writes for the Church of Christ of Red Oak at Uhl Road and Ovilla. Their worship times are 10 a.m. Sundays and 7:30 pm. Wednesdays. Email coachbowen1984@gmail.com or call or text (972) 824-5197.