Chicora College for Women - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Columbia, SC)

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” HY hidy, Elvira, I ain’t seed you, since Mrs. Jones' fun’el. You looks mighty well.” ’Hidy, Mamie, how yawl?” Aw, we’s all right. You know'd Sam gon' be babtised Sunday, didn't yuh ? I come town today to git him a suit.” Hesh, Viry, your Sam? How come day boy gon’ be babtised? He ain’t got no ’ligion.” Haw he have too, he been amoan- in' now goin' on two week—come thru last Saddy night on de way home from church. Me’n Ethel, we’s walk- in’ long pretty good ways in front'n him and s'mo dem young boys, Mose and ’mong ’em, and we hearn some- body holler out, Thank you Lawd, thank you Sir,” and I knowd hit us my Sam. I shore was proud. Gal, I jes’ fell down in de road and rolled.” Yas, Sis Mamie, I knows you war a proud soul. My Mag, she been moanin’ aroun’ fer nigh bout a week, but she ain’ had no luck as yit. I don’ tol her ef she come thru by Sadday mawnin’ time fuh me to go to town wid de boss, I’d git her one dem georged crapeys fur de babtizin’, and you know she's plum crazy fur a red un. I ain’ seed no peace day or night since den, ain’t been able to git a lick o’ work out’n her.” Gal, did you heer the elder rompin' on Sis Haney fer squenchin’ her eyes at dat black Jeems in meetin’ las’ nite?” Yas, and did you see dat big yel- low Rosetta Stone aswitchin’ up de aisle to put dat nickle on the table when dey wuz liftin’ de ’lection? Tryin’ to show off dat red satin dress, and everybody knowd she bought it second-hand from Miss Annie.” Uh huh, if she don’t ketch dat Pluribus Unum wid dat dress dere jus’ ain’t no ketchin’ him, him lookin’ like a ape, and Sally jus’ been dead a mont’, Sadday.” Viry, wuz you down de road dere when Carry Nation Hogens and Na- poleum come ’long? You wusn't. Haw! Lawd, gal, you sho missed it. Sis Milly took ’n’ had a fit an’ she hauled off an’ bit Carry Nation thru de year; she a blue-gummed nigger. Uh wall, wuz’t de same year dat Aunt Martha tore de year ring outer when she got shoutin’ t'other nite?” I ’on’ know 'bout dat, but you know Izeah’s de only one can hold Carry' Nation when de Spirit strike her, now. Talkin’ ’bout shoutin’, gal, you know dat nail Brother Stark drive in de wall fo’ elder Bowens to hang his overcoat on? Wall, of Hesakiah got shoutin' an' jump so high twell he hang dat new pair striped britches on dat nail, an’ I means he hung dere twell some de deakums unhooked ’im.” Now chile! I boun’ he don’t do no moah dat gymnastickin’ aroun’. Think he smart.” Uh hum, wuz you at de Basket rally at Ebeneza fust Sunday? Alder Lewis up der thinkin’ he lookin’ so forty tight an’ all a time lookin’ like a squench owl, talkin' bout churchin’ dis yere young race 'bout dere sneakin’ at de barbecue, an’ his han' still wrop up fum whar he bin gougin’ dat cawn out de crack in Mr. Jackson’s cawn crib, whar Mr. Jackson sot de steal trap dat kotch him.” Look ’ere, gal, de cap’n tol' me meet 'im at foah 'clock, an' ef I ain’t dere he’ll shore ride off an’ leab me lak he dun Ebaline, an' I’ll haf t’ foot it home, an’ git supper arter I git dere. Wal, stay 'ere twil I come, Viry, an’ don’ fergit 'bout poundin’ de paster, babtizin’ Sunday. Gon’ look fer you.” [13]

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Rosa Willis New Bern, N. C. Nanette Sherard Abbeville, S. C. Mary Mickley Charlotte, N. C. Alene Ward Tryon, N. C. Katherine Stewart Clinton, N. C. Marilyn Brittain Charlotte, N. C. Lucy Williams Charlotte, N. C. Melba Treadway Charlotte, N. C. Johnny Walker Charlotte, N. C. Irene Johnson Charlotte, N. C. Peggy Sabine Charlotte, N. C. Nell Sadler Charlotte, N. C. Sara Sprott Greenwood, S. C. Jennie Ann Efird Charlotte, N. C. Beatrice Kiser Charlotte, N. C. “FRESHMAN DAYS” M AY we be personal ? Notice Helen Hatcher, and you remember individuality—even in one out of 150. And Helen Cumnock is as well drawn a type as we’ve seen. Her tailored suits, her hair, brushed back and then bouncing up again, her healthy appearance, all form the perfect picture of an out-door girl. Have you stopped counting the Charlotte students? There are bunches of them. Eleanor Burris, Sara Keiger, Adele Southerland, Martha Alexander, in one. Jennie Ann Efird, Marilyn Brittain, Mary Mickley, Johnny Walker running around together. And Elizabeth Gammon, Charlotte McAden, Courtney Jones, and so many more attractive ones. Peggy Sabine is an addition to Char- lotte and Queens—she recently moved here from New York, and she’s gifted dramatically. Ginger Snapp, is an- other new resident of Charlotte, and that’s what she likes to be called, with no giggling, please. The names of our freshmen are so unusual—Carmalt sounds delicious. And Tempe is the very name for that alert individual. Cree is a clever nick-name, and Mayme is spelt cleverly. Le Grande is the tops in family names. Rosa Willis has music in her name. And Nanette Sherard seems to turn somersaults on your tongue. Ginger Snapp merits mention again, in con- nection with this subject. And never shall we forget our first glimpse of the freshmen—Katherine Stewart, as radiant and happy as a senior; Rose Shanklin, here early and helping others to find their rooms; Sarah Sprott, with the family reunion in her room; Margaret Hunsucker having her picture taken. Freshman, there’s no one quite like you. [12]

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Miss Molly, Put the Kettle On JAWING low, sweet Cha-a-i-ot Comin foah t’ carry me----” Come on in, invited big fat Cindy ceasing her song, as she heard a knock on the kitchen door. Inwardly she muttered, Gawganne agin, I’ll be boun’. Why in de debble cain't dat lowdown niggah stay at home an’ ten’ t’ her own biznes' sum time.” Good evenin’ Cindy,” greeted Georgianne. Why, howdy do, Gawganne. I’s glad you come,” lied Cindy politely. Ain’t you thu washin’ up de sup- pah deeshes yit? Lawd, I bin thu a long time,” whimpered the visitor. What’d you cook good fuh suppah, Cindy?” Aw, nuffin much. Dere’s sum bis- kit puddin in dat pan ober dar on de tabul. Git you sum. I s aimin’ t' put hit up fuh mah dinnah, but no mind, you eat hit. Den come hope me wash up dese deeshes. I s tryin’ t’ git thru an’ git away ’fo’ of Aunt Kansas come. Sunday she say she’s comm’ over heah t' night, an’ ef she ketch me, she sho beg eby rag off n’ my back.” Er lazy heifer,” pronounced Georgianne perilously perching her two hundred and fifty pounds on a small nail keg behind the stove and eating the biscuit pudding. Das de Gawd's truf. She'll sho beg now. Beg off evybody. Duddah day, she wint up t’ Miss Molly, whinin’ roun bout she habin’ bad cold an' axin' Miss Molly gib her little brandy. She make me tared,” finished Georgi- anne with righteous indignation. Men1 you bof, Gawgy,” said Cindy. Is you put up any par’zerves yit, gal? Ah ain't got a bit.” Yas, I has foah haf gallun jairs. l'se been visitin' de tree ebery night t’ git dem when de win’ blows. Das whut I cum by heah fuh t'nite. I’s gwine up to de par tree t'reckly an’ git dis sack full. I thought maybe you’d lack t’ come long an’ git you some too.” Das a good idee,” mused Cindy, ef ah don' hurry, ol’ hawkeye, he’ll beat me to ’em. He’ll be a gatherin’ 'em purty soon, won’ he? Ah’s glad you come by.” Cindy dried the last dish, set the table for breakfast, blew out the smok- ing kitchen lamp, and the two old aunties ambled silently down the path and out of the back gate toward the pear tree. It was dark, and they felt reasonably safe; but Georgianne, knowing Mr. Jones, was always cau- tious. Sh-h,” she whispered, ’’Don’ make no moah noise dan we has to You cain’t nebah tell who mout be listenin’ roun’.” Reaching the pear tree which was about two hundred and fifty yards from the white folks’ house, they felt safe in continuing their conversation. Ain’t de pars nice dis year, Cindy,” observed Georgianne, as they fell busi- ly to work picking up the fallen fruit and putting it into the tow sack. Yas, nicer’n ah’s ebah seed ’em. Ain’t dat air cold t'nite. Hit wouldn’ s’prise me a bit ef hit wuz t’ come a fros disver’ nite.” Um um, sho is. Frosted a little las nite, so Zeke say. Ah ain't seed none myself do. Ah wuz aimin’ t’ go to de feast in de wilderness t’nite ef you hadn' come. Gonna be right cole fur de meetin’ nex week.” Ah’s agittin’ tared,” said Georgi- anne after a while. Le's set down an’ res’ a while, Cindy.” Gawganne, hit’s cause youse gittin so everlastin’ fat, gal. Why ’on’ you order yoself one dem W. T. Cossits fum Sairs an Rarebacks?” Georgianne considered a moment staring at Cindy, Is dey any good?” Yas, Sook say dere’s nuthin' lack 'em. She got hern fum de Watskin man, but you kin order 'em. I seen one in de new catalogue. Sook wouldn’ take nuthin' fuh hern. I’s been aimin' t’ git me one soon ez ah git little money on han’. Da’s how cum me t’ name de baby W. T. So’s ah wouldn’t fergit de name.” Wall, ah say. But you know hit’s de style now t’ call chullen by lettahs anyways. Ah thinks W. T. make a right purty name fuh a chile,” said Georgianne. Just then a shower of pears fell, followed shortly by another and an- other. Lan’ sakes1 I ain’ nebah seed nuffin lack de way dese pars failin’ t’nite, commented Cindy. Falls lack dere mout be a hi’ win’, but dere ain’ scarcely nun ’tall.” Don’ dey now,” exclaimed Georgi- anne. We’s habin luck t’nite. Pars fallin. De Good Lawd on our side case he know we ain’ able t’ dim no tree aft’ em, fat ez we is.” We’s got de sack bout full,” an- nounced Cindy presently. Le’s git along ’fo’ de of fortune tellah ketch us.” As they shouldered the bulging sack, a deep voice that unmistakably be- longed to the one and only Mr. Jones came from up in the tree. It was very good of you all to pick up the pears for me, and if you will come up to the house in the morning, you can peal them for Miss Molly to pre- serve! I’ll tell her to put the kettle on.” MARGARET ANDERSON [14]