Invasion Day: An Oral History of the Veech War by Micah Gurley

Author:Micah Gurley [Gurley, Micah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-23T22:00:00+00:00

Momma Keets

Marion, Virginia

Virginia is hot. The sounds of children playing vibrate through the air. Screams and giggles come from children playing some sort of tag game. Behind the incredibly large yard sits a massive octagon-shaped house, called unsurprisingly, the Octagon House. The seventeen-room house built by slaves thrums with life as I walk up to meet the woman who runs it.

Momma Keets – as she instructed me to call her – is waiting for me in a rocking chair in the wrap-around front porch. She is a short woman, not quite reaching five feet. In her seventies, she radiates energy that equals any of the children playing. She greets me with a hug after slapping away my extended hand.

Hello Mr. Journalist man, come on and sit down now. It's hot out here. Drink that sweet tea, young man; it'll break that heat. You from up North? It doesn't matter none no way. Drink that tea while it's cool. Now, what does some Yankee reporter want with me?

I explain I am not from up North, but she waves the answer away.

My story? Well, it's simple, really. I found some kids and took'em in. It's what any Christian woman would do.

She throws her head back and laughs, then slaps me on the arm.

I'm just messing with you, son. Now, let's see. I was working in an old folk's home when them devils came a knocking. I was a nurse, about to retire. I'd been working there going on thirty-five years, and I was planning on going to see my kids. They were done grown by that time and off doing their own thing. The Good Lord kept them safe that day, but they're rascals, the lot of em and they don't come and see their momma enough.

Anyway, I was at the old folks home when that noise came along. Child, what a noise! I near about became sick, but I managed, though I couldn't hear a thing for a spell. We don't live near no city as you can see, but that noise carried down the state, near as I know. But nearly all the people that lived at that home died. Poor dears. They didn't have much, but they went to the Good Lord, and that's all any of us will do one day.

My youngest boy, Jeremiah, was twenty or so around that time, working on his degree; he came by all a flutter and got me. He tried to talk to me, but I couldn't hear a thing. Well, I got home and found my old man passed out cold on the floor. No account old man. (Gives a large wave.) He was fine. Woke up all confused. We slept like the dead that night, not knowing what was going on. We didn't watch T.V. much then anyway—nothing but trash on. We slept and slept, and when I woke up, I could hear a bit.

Well, we found out what happened, and not one bit of it was good. We stayed

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