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I didn’t just love Opal. She had a very special place in my heart. She had many tal­
ents—if only they could have been nourished. Opal had a big heart. She would have given
the last of anything she had to anybody—whether that person needed it or not. I loved to

hear her play the mouth harp, especially the sound of a train coming.
I will always be grateful to C.M. for being the good husband that he was to Opal. I
know that our entire family feels the same way.

I always felt very protective of Opal. I would have fought to the gritty end for her. In
the early 1920s, Opal once had a teacher who was an: aunt or cousin to everybody in school
except our family. One morning just as class turned out for recess, the teacher pinned a big
sign on Opal’s back that said, “Lazy Bones.” Some tattletale ran to my class to tell me that

Opal was crying and wouldn’t come out for recess. I was in a high school class which the
principal taught.
I went bounding down the hall to Opal’s class and saw her crying her eyes out. I didn’t

even bother to remove the straight pins that held the sign on her; I just gave the paper one
jerk, tore it up, and threw the pieces into the trash can. I told Opal to go to the bathroom to
get a drink of water.
I’m sure that the little “cousin” tattletale ran to tell “cousin” teacher that I had ripped

the sign off Opal’s back. Then I’m sure the teacher told’the principal of my daring action.
The principal sent another student to tell me to report to him. I wasn’t afraid of the principal

in the least, and I certainly wasn’t afraid of the teacher who remained in the room to hear
him reprimand me.
I approached him and said, “Yes, sir. You sent for me?”
The principal excused the teacher. He slobbered when he talked—even more when he

was nervous. The teacher left, but my buddy, Mabie Jones, remained with me.
The principal asked, “Did you take the poster off Opal’s back? Why did you do it?”
I answered, looking him right in the eye, “Because she was embarrassed, crying, and

wouldn’t leave the room. Blood is thicker than water.”
I think it goes a long way to look a person in the eye when you speak to him. He
dropped his head, looked at the ground1, kicked a little dirt with the toe of his shoe, and told

me to go on about my business.
The teacher didn’t speak to me after that for years. I have often wondered what the
principal told her. He would have been compelled to tell her something since he didn’t

punish me.

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