Oral History (9781101565612) (2011) - Plot & Excerpts
He’s got one leg shorter than the other, anyhow. And he’s the oldest thing you ever saw. Every now and then he strums a little bit on his dulcimer. Every now and then when he slows down, he sticks one foot out, jerks himself forward and pushes off from a flowerpot, which sets him to swaying again. He’s wearing his Western shirt with the flowers on it, too. He knows how cute he is. “It’s time she was a-gettin’ back now,” he says, looking up at Hoot Owl Mountain. “What time is it anyway?” he asks a while after that, but nobody will pay him any mind. Old Ora Mae sits in her chair making a brown and yellow afghan in the star pattern, her fingers busy, busy, busy, without her even looking down at her hands. She’s looking off to the side yard where two of her grandsons, Al’s children, have tied string on some june bugs they are swinging around and around through the hot evening air. Ora Mae gives a long sigh. She sits as big and shapeless as a rock in her green easy chair, pushed up against the house wall.
What do You think about Oral History (9781101565612) (2011)?
