Who is Katee Kaye?

Nana hailed from a heritage of mixed superstitions – akin to something like mixed metaphors. First thing in the morning she’d have me and her recite John 3:16 together. Not so we'd understand the meaning but just in case one of us stepped on a crack or walked under a ladder it would offset the damage. She believed in her Good Book, but she also believed that the devil himself had power over our lives if we didn’t abate him somehow. “Don’t you dis’spect the Good Book with your talk…” in reference to me sassing her back, “…you git a long life by ‘spectin’ your elders, young lady…”.

Nana was four foot eight inches with her orthopedic shoes on. I was taller than her in my stocking feet when I was in second grade – just about the time I remember she started grasping for the rose bush switches in presumed frustration. I soon found I could easily out run her – but didn’t know that until the first threat of thorns waved frantically in my face.

That warm afternoon, I did something unappealing to Nana; and fortunately, I can’t remember what that something exactly was I should admit to. But what I do know is that between the tone of her indistinguishable words, contorted angry face, and the swish of the switch nearly glancing my nose, I logically turned tail and ran like the dickens…running over the paved backyard patio, through the breezeway, up the terraced garden two steps at a time, passing the rose garden and between the berry trellises and tomatoes, turning right to squeeze between the neighbors fence and our garage. Only then did I stop to catch my breath and look back but I could only hear her orthopedic shoes clack, clack clacking on the pavers punctuating her words.Standing in the late day shadows behind the garage, I slowly peeked around the corner…she wasn’t to be seen. Still, I knew she was there somewhere. As I got my wits about me, I could hear her screeching fury in the distance, “Kathryn, Katie Kay, you git yer tail in here Katie Kay!” So much for congenial Southern Belle-speak...

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Copyright © 2012 by Sandee Strunk in perpetuity. ~ No homo sapiens or other critters were harmed in the writing of these fictional memoirs.
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the owner, Sandee Strunk.

 

 

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