Thomas Tate Archives - Page 2 of 9 - grace grits and gardening

The Man with the Hyena Laugh

February 9, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 38 Comments

Daddy’s latest beer-drinking buddy almost permanently moved into the spare bedroom. For several days and nights he ate our food, smoked Daddy’s cigarettes and watched his favorite shows on our television. Even though his beady eyes and piercing hyena laugh made the invisible hairs on the back of my neck crawl, I politely smiled and waited. I knew Momma would eventually tire of playing hostess and maid. Sure enough on Tuesday night, Momma threw a hissy fit and declared his vacation over while he stood at the open refrigerator wolfing down leftover Sunday pot roast. But like a stray dog, a few weeks later he followed Daddy home again.

Grace Grits and Gardening

This was written especially for Fearless Writing Alumni Practice. Prompt: 6 Sentence Story Structure from Sacred List Crawl

Musical Pairing:

Chow Down, The Lion King Hyena Song

Last Laugh.

January 31, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 15 Comments

Rivercrest High School, Wilson, Ar

“Where were you today?” Daddy asked me at supper.

Momma shot me a look of whatdya mean where was she today?

“I was at school, the place I go every day. Where did you think I was?”

“I thought you were over by the St. Francis floodway. I followed a yellow corvette all afternoon. It wasn’t you.” He shook his head and grumbled as though bitterly disappointed he didn’t catch me messing up.

“Of course it wasn’t me.”

I knew better than to skip school. In Mississippi County even when you didn’t know what you were doing, everyone else did.

Grace Grits and Gardening

This post was written especially for Write Tribe 100 Words on Saturday. Prompt: She Had The Last Laugh.

Today was my Daddy’s birthday. He would have been seventy-seven. He died twenty years ago…

Thomas Tate

Y is for Yellow

April 29, 2013 By Talya Tate Boerner 27 Comments

Yellow is just not your color, Momma always told me.

It wasn’t that she was being rude. She was only trying to save me from looking washed out and jaundiced.

None of the Tate girls can wear yellow, she said. It clashes with our mousy hair and freckly skin.

But Momma, Momma, this is key.

I love yellow. It’s sooooo me.

What about to school? You see,

a Keiser YELLOWjacket, I shall be…

Could I, should I, late at night?

No never, ever. It won’t look right!

The color of summer sunshine, yellow is lemony fresh clean. I’m all about clean…

My kitchen is painted happy yellow. Sweet broom and yellow bearded iris fill my flower beds. Yet rarely do I wear the color…

As was typical in our family, Daddy never got the memo about our yellow problem. During his mid-life crisis, before I was even old enough to drive, he bought me my first car.

A could-it-be-any-brighter(?) YELLOW corvette.