BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR

This is a blast from the past post, written many years ago. . .

A little pre-log here though.  My family and I do historical re‑enactments called Rendezvous.  We basically live, dress, do crafts etc of the pre‑1840 time period in US history, predominately Fur Trade and French and Indian War.  We educate and goof on the tourists.  This is a true story I tell folks at 'voo (when I'm goofing on them instead of giving a needlework lecture).   

 

 Imagine a short fat lady dressed in clothes of the pre

1840 time period standing before you in the middle of a

encampment of white canvas tents and everyone else dressed

similar please.

 

Be Careful What You Ask For

 

Well, now ye kind folks have asked about this here site, a

right pretty one it is, I've seen nicer ones and I've seen

worse, but let me tell 'bout one I was at a few years back.

  Yep it was a memorable one.

 

Like all good 'voo folks we like to arrive at them week long

'voos a bit early so we can get the choicest spots to throw

up our tents.

 

As we hook up our team and head out we think "Lord I hope

it's a nice clean spot."  Well, when we got there Mr. Gator,

he's that fine gentleman over there, had already been there

a few days and he said that the spot was right clean because

the Good Lord had washed it right proper with 4 inches of

rain just the day before.  That was right handy seein' how

he could tell us where to put up our tents to avoid havin' a

river run through it later on.  We were right pleased with that.

 

But then some of the folks came in from the Aliphi, that's

down Florida way, they came from there all covered with dirt

because it had been so dusty and windy there so they said

"Lord, we wish we'd got some of that rain"  Well our Lord is

an obligin' Lord and he sent down the rain.

 

Then those folks went to complaining about being so wet and

so the Lord sent some wind to dry us out, only that wind

started getting a little twisty and it went to rainin' again

and this was not a good thing.  You see Miss Pammy, that's

the tall one over there. She and I were there without our

menfolk and we both are powerful fearful of them twisty

storms and we was a quakin' in our high top boots.

 

Mr. Gator, being the right fine gentleman he is, why he

called over from his place up on the top of the hill, "you

ladies come over here I'll make sure you are safe!"  Well we

certainly didn't have to be told twice.

 

Hiking our petticoats well above the ladylike ankle length

we waded through the running water, watching for fishes and

snakes as we went and scampered right inside Mr. Gator's

trade tent.

 

Strange how you can feel more safe when there is one calm

fellow around.  Me, I get the shakes bad when I can feel

them twisty storms a comin' and I was dadburn near a blur.

 

Didn't help none that the local sheriff kept coming by

giving us severe weather updates every few minutes.  That

wind it was a whippin'  The bloomers for sale in Mr. Gator's

shop were dancing a jig from the clothesline they hung on.

That wind howled and carried on...

 

Then it got quiet, real quiet.  Now if you folks know

anything about them tornadoes you know there is a good quiet

and there is a really BAAAAAD quiet.  Mr. Gator said "You

ladies stay in here I'm going out to see if this be a good

quiet or a bad quiet."  As he stepped outside the tent he

was heard to say."Lord I need some light, I can't see a thing."

 

Suddenly the whole world lit up and we were right fearful we

were having Fried Gator for breakfast!  Then we heard folks

a yellin' "Fire, Fire!"

 

Rushing out to see if we could save Mr. Gator,  Miss Pammy

and I found him to be right fine, but that big old oak tree

across the road, it was a flamin'.

 

Somebody yelled, "get some water before the whole camp

catches fire" and the Lord he obliged again.  Lord did he ever! He slit them clouds right open and just doused that fire right proper!

 

Finally the storm plum twisted itself out and except for a

few tents falling down we were all okay.  Miss Pammy ended

up bunkin' in at my place 'cause hers got so wet durin' the

storm and all.

The next morning that silly woman stood out in the middle of

the road and said "When is the ice wagon coming Lord I need

some ice!" You got it! Hailstones so big and many we all

filled our ice chests right up. Didn't need no ice run that day! 

After we all got through whippin' up on Miss Pammy it was

agreed by the vote of the entire camp no one was to ask the Lord

for anything else, we were fearful we wouldn't survive it. 

For the next 5 days things were right fine.  Well, we did

have one little old grass fire, but a good gunny sack or two

took care of that. 

Then Miss Linda Lou, she the lady with the fine handmade baskets over there, arrives in camp with her summer gear instead of her winter gear. Foolish thing to do in Arkansas in April don't ye think? It was down right nippy that first night she was there. 

We all live in these canvas tents with real thin walls, kind

of like a cheap motel, you know.  Well her tent was right

next to mine and I heard her say "Lord my feet sure are

cold." I just shook my head and moaned.  She woke the next

morning with a coon on her feet. 

So the moral to this story is, you know stories always have

to have a moral.  Never ask the Lord for something you don't

really need.  You might just get it!

 

End note:  This event is a true story.  During that particular rendezvous the Morrow Building in Oklahoma City was bombed as well.  It was a sad day for all of us. 

 

Mr. Gator of the story has since gone on to his reward and now watching out for all of us from his rightful place in heaven.  I tell this story in loving memory of him.