Greene County, Arkansas - Centennial Edition 5

Grandma Sipes' attic was a treasure cove and a place of pure enjoyment for an 11 year old. The attic was absolutely forbidden to all granchildren, but temptation always overcame me whenever I would see that Grandma, Mother and the aunts were deep in family small talk.

Casually, I would saunter out of my favorite spot -- a straight-back cane bottomed chair with short legs, located near the long, cast iron box heater -- slowly inching my way to the side room that led to the attic.

Stopping for an instant to listen to make sure I was not being followed, the faint aroma of peanut butter assaulted my nostrils. Peanut butter was one of Grandpa's luxuries, safely hidden in the trunk. On special occasions, grandchildren would receive a sample treat. Each of us would stand in line to get our share.

Quick and easy, I would be up the wooden ladder fastenedd to the wall, push open the scuttle hole fastening and, before anyone could see me, I would be in the attic.

I would reminsce about stories Grandma had told me. Before she could to to bed at night during cotton picking time, she would have to pull cotton from the seed and fill her shoe with seed.

Daddy worked at a cotton gin, and it was hard to imagine such a task as this must have been.

Searching the attic, other treasures caught my attention: boxes of old letters, treasured books like the First McGuffey's Reader, song books with words only. Grandma used these books upon ocassion when she would sing to us. I especially remember her singing "Barbery Allen."

My stolen time in Grandma's attic would be worth the scolding that would come later.

Belma Cossey/Walcott