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| English: the queen of hearts of a Claude Valentin paying cards deck, 1650-1675. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
Life according to the Sentinels Granddaughter
Mother says I was singing before I was talking. She says my first word was Daddy; but Daddy says my first word was Bullshit.
Some of my earliest memories are those of crawling around on an old wooden floor with a small spotted fawn as family members moved around the modestly sized pinewood home and sat around the kitchen table conversing.
I am fair in color, I am a strawberry blond with denim blue eyes. I have wide set eyes which are a family trait as well as a small turned-up button nose like my father’s. In the sunshine my hair is the color of gold. However, since I am so fair I was one that was often kept in the shade when outdoors or more often than not inside the house with the adults while the other children played.
Other memories include adult conversations from the men folk in our family. These conversations were not normal everyday talk. These conversations were coded messages. These men would sit together and talk with one another as if they were playing a game of poker. Interestingly, there was never to my knowledge ever a single pack of cards in my grandmother’s house. According to her, playing cards were a tool of the devil, and they would lead you on a short trip to hell.
Even though, I may have been reading or coloring at the table or even sweeping the floor or dusting I heard everything they said. I remember a few select phrases they used. I believe if I were the type of person who could be hypnotized that I would be able to recall all those conversations word for word. However, they were coded messages and I do not knowingly know the code. I don’t even know how to play poker. I have to admit that my head is so full of this kind of information that it nearly made me nuts. Can you imagine being a child, while hearing and watching men talk as if they are playing poker and there never be a card on the property? These were common conversations for these men.
In addition, my dad would tell us a story using playing cards at our home, not grandma's home. The only thing we can remember from the story that daddy told us is that Jacks are Shovels.
When I first started figuring all this out the best I can I asked my mother if she remembers being at granddaddy’s and all the men folk be talking about something in poker phrases and you could never figure out what they were talking about and she told me yes. I told her this is what all the talk was about. Since, it had been so long it felt good to have that issue confirmed by a grownup.
