University of Nevada, Reno




My Mama can walk on water

By Lynne


MyraDaddy and Uncle Sambone bought an old bread truck and converted it into what us kids considered the most fantastic clubhouse ever invented by mankind. They had built two fold-up cots on one side and a fold-up table behind the only passenger seat. They had a box over the wheelwell that contained the kitchen! There was even the basic camping toilet, i.e., Army shovel and a roll of toilet paper in an empty coffee can with a lid. The best thing of all was the door on the back of the truck rolled up!

Aunt Polly and Mama refused to go on fishing trips, so us kids couldn’t go either. At that time, a child did not talk back to their parents or disapprove of their parents’ decisions. No backtalking, no throwing hissyfits, screaming or crying. It just wasn’t done in our house.


Anyway, Daddy and Uncle Sambone left on their fishing trip Friday night after they got off work. They worked the same shift at National Carbine.

Very early Sunday morning, Mama got a phone call from Daddy. He and Uncle Sambone had walked to the filling station to make the call. They had a flat tire and no spare with them. Mama and Aunt Polly had planned on a fishfry when Daddy and Uncle Sambone got home. We all loaded up everything. Mama, Aunt Polly, Ray and Steve and brother John, Ben and myself, everything for the fish fry except the fish and the spare tire, and went to rescue Daddy and Uncle Sambone. What a grand adventure.

We picked up Daddy and Uncle Sambone at the filling station and although it seemed like forever, we finally reached their camp. It was a great camp beside a wide but shallow stream that ran into the river. The camp was on one side with big trees and not much brush. The other side was more big trees and bushes and a blackberry thicket.


Us kids explored the creek andMama and Aunt Polly went across a fallen log to check out the blackberry patch. Daddy and Uncle Sambone set up things to clean and fry the fish they had caught.

All of a sudden, there was a screech and here comes Mama. She didn’t bother with the log, but flew straight across the creek, jumped into the camper, almost got Uncle Sambone’s hand when she slammed the roll-up door down hard, the camper wobbled as she sprinted forward and locked the front doors, all the time screaming, “Sna-a-a-a-ke.” Her shoes weren’t even wet.


At that moment, I knew my Mama could walk on water.


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