Cold Sassy Tree

by Olive Ann Burns

Hep me remember my faith that Yore arrange-ment for livin’ and dyin’ is good. Hit ain’t fair or equal, Lord, but it keeps thangs movin’ on.

Unfortunately, Aunt Carrie decided early the morning of the funeral that Mary Toy’s fiery red hair looked “inappropriate” for such a sad occasion. Her solution was to dye it black. “Just for today, sugarfoot,” she said when my sister had a conniption fit.

named him Theodore Roosevelt when I got home that day—then shortened it to T.R. so folks wouldn’t think my dog was a Republican.

If she’d of bent down in that dress, her bosoms would of looked like two puppies trying to climb over a fence.

You talk about hungry, there’s nothing like knowing your grub is off somewhere digesting in a bear to make you feel starved to death.

“Yessir. But I’d still like to hear you explain Jesus sayin’ ast God for something and you’ll get it. One time I prayed for a million dollars, to test Him, and didn’t get one dime.” “Thet was jest wishin’. Hit warn’t prayin’.”

it sure would put a crimp in things to have Jealousy Incarnate underfoot.

both could hold a grudge like it was a life work.

Dont put Not Dead But Sleeping on my stone. Write it Dead, Not Sleeping. Being dead under six foot of dirt wont bother me a-tall, but I hate for it to sound like I been buried alive.

And in our family, we don’t talk against each other to outsiders.