by Reavis E. Dixon
In the year of 1941, I was "Almost five years old". My parents were farmers in Pierce County, Georgia, and the world around me was one continuous curiosity.

Josephine Beverly Thomas
My maternal grandmother, Josephine Beverly Thomas, who had been widowed in 1934, often came to see us. She sometimes stayed for a week or two at a time.

In those days, any kid worth his salt was the owner of a cap pistol. The caps for this contraption, which came in squares of about fifty had to be cut up with scissors, to a size which would fit unto the holder on the cap pistol.

Granny would get a coffee cup from the kitchen, to hold the cut caps, and the two of us would retire to the front porch of the old wooden house. There, with the setting sun in our faces, I would practice the fine art of "Making Granny jump".

First of all, as she cut the caps, she would sometimes cut into one with the scissors. It would explode with a lively pop, and I thought it was just the coolest to see her jump and hear her exclamations of shock. Looking back, I'm certain that much of the alarm was for my amusement in the first place. But, we'd sit there, two friends for the rest of her life, and enjoy the warm spring twilights of 1941.

After a long and loving life, Granny died on May 28, 1958. She rests among her beloved kin in Rehobeth Cemetery, in Pierce County, Georgia.