The Red Flannel Rag

My dad often asked Grandpa Austin, Grandma Molly, and Aunt Lena to take a

Sunday afternoon car ride or to go to church with him. They sometimes went, but only

one person at a time. The reason they gave him was “we can’t leave the house by itself.”

Grandma Molly Shifflett with her wood kitchen stove and the warming closet in her black cotton stockings on the day of Gra ndpa Austin’s funeral, 1958

Grandma or Lena would sometimes go, but somebody stayed at home all the time.

Grandpa Austin never left the house until the undertaker took him away.

Their house always smelled the same. There was an old heavy musty smell that

made my nose tickle. It was not pleasant, and to this day, when I walk into an antique

store, I experience that smell and go back in my memory to fifty years ago. I relive the

Sundays at Grandma Molly’s house and remember the times I opened her pie saf e to see

what she had stored in there.

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