The Sittin' Up by Shelia P. Moses Page A

explain.
    â€œThese plates were made real cheap for folk to save money till the Depression is over. The folk who make the Quaker Oats oatmeal put a cup or saucer in every container to keep even poor folk buying the brand. You know, Bean, if you can throw a straight horseshoe you can win a Depression glass at the fair. Aaaaand,” Pole said real long to get her point across, “the gas station will give you a piece of Depression glass if and only if you buy a whole tank of gas.”
    Pole went on and on until she was out of breath. Finally, stopping for air, she looked at Ma.
    â€œMiss Magnolia?”
    â€œWhat is it, Pole?”
    â€œWhy do people really have sittin’ ups and why do they have to do it every night? And why is the last night so important?” Ma put the last piece of silver back in the wood box.
    â€œI don’t know if it’s so, but my papa, Melton Sr., told me that folk been having sittin’ ups for over one hundred years. He said that a long, long time ago, folk get sick and fall into a deep, deep sleep. Something they call a coma. He said that the family would dress the body and then put them on the bed or in a casket if they had one. According to Papa, they wouldn’t bury folk for over a week to make sure they didn’t wake up. You see some of these people weren’t dead, just sleeping from the illness. Folk would sit with the dead to make sure someone was there if they woke up.”
    â€œWhat would happen if they did bury somebody and they were just in a coma and not dead at all?” Pole asked.
    â€œI hear tell of a few folk been buried alive, so they started burying them with a bell in their hands.”
    I couldn’t hold my tongue another minute.
    â€œA bell! Why they need a bell?”
    That’s when Miss Lottie Pearl came back with a wood crate full of food.
    â€œGirl, stop scaring them children.” But Ma didn’t pay her friend no mind; she kept right on talking.
    â€œPapa said they would have a string on the casket that led inside to the person’s hand. If the person woke up, they would pull the string so the bell would ring really loud.” Pole almost jumped out of her chair when Ma said that. I didn’t move.
    â€œYou ought to be shame of yourself,” Miss Lottie Pearl said. “Anyway, I got to go back to get my glasses. I don’t want to send the children ’cause I’ll be mad as all get out if they drop one.”
    â€œAre they Depression glasses?” I asked Miss Lottie Pearl so that I would sound as smart as Pole.
    â€œYes, Bean,” Pole said as she twisted her body from side to side in her know-it-all position.
    â€œStop it, Pole.” Miss Lottie Pearl tried to save me from another lecture. “They sure are Depression glasses, child. They ain’t made of much, but they pretty,” she said as she headed back to Stony Hill.
    Me and Pole got us a glass of ice tea and went outside to sit on the front porch and rest our bones.
    â€œMa never did say why they bring the body home the night before the funeral,” Pole said.
    This was my chance to show her that I was just as smart as she was.
    â€œA man got a right to come home one last time, Pole.”
    Not even Pole had a comment for that.
    So we just sat there drinking our tea before all the ice melted.
    Only a few minutes had passed when we heard a car coming down Low Meadows Lane. Pole stood up to get a better look.
    â€œIt’s Mr. Gordon! Do you want me to get Mr. Stanbury?” Pole called into the house. Ma came to the door.
    â€œAin’t no time for that.”
    That black hearse was so much longer than it looked sitting at the funeral home. It seemed bigger than when they carried Mr. Bro. Wiley away. The twins had shined the car so bright that the trees were reflected on it.
    â€œThey coming, Miss Magnolia. They coming to bring Mr. Bro. Wiley home.”
    â€œYes, they is, child. Yes, they is. It