DANCING WITHE THE GYPSIES

DANCING WITH THE GYPSIES

     By Travis M. Whitehead

     My mother grew up during the Great Depression (there wasn’t anything “great” about it) on

the Texas side of the Red River, with Oklahoma on the other side. Her father was a man of many

talents. He was a carpenter, a mechanic, and a popular singer in local barber shop quartets. He

made his living by fishing the Red River. He was also known for the fish nets he made and sold

at a decent profit. He even saved the family money by constructing a two-bedroom wooden

house on property owned by his brother-in-law. It was a sturdy home, but not a very good one.

The structure had no insulation, and they froze in winter and baked during the summer.

     He could have provided well for his family during these hard times, but he drank away all the

money. He made his own corn brew in the woods behind the house (this was during

Prohibition) and often sent my mother out to make deliveries. She and her sisters had to endure

the humiliation of standing by while the FBI raided the house on several occasions.

     My mother’s father was a mean drunk who made a habit out of calling my mother stupid

every time she tried to accomplish a task. She remembered very vividly his taunting as she

learned to ride a bicycle.

     “I don’t know why you’re even botherin’,” he told her. “You’re too stupid. You’ll never learn

how to ride that thing.”

     “You just watch,” she said spitefully. “I’m going to show you.”

     She turned away as he laughed sadistically; within a week she was riding on her own, no

thanks to dear old dad.

     In spite of my grandfather’s relentless belittling of my mother, she found ways to enjoy her

childhood with great zest. She hunted bullfrogs along the riverbank with a .22. She smoked

grapevine and stuck wads of chocolate powder in her mouth and pretended it was tobacco. She

spent late nights on the front porch ad-libbing her own one-act plays, singing, dancing until

everyone told her to quiet down and go to bed. 

     However, she didn’t always do as she was told. In those days, the Gypsies still lived their

legendary nomadic lifestyle. Dressed in their bright colorful clothing and heavy jewelry, they

would sometimes set up camp in the area.

     The adults, seeking to “protect” their children, told them that Gypsies liked to kidnap white

children and eat them. My mother, being the precocious and inquisitive nine-year-old that she

was, decided she had to find out if it was true. So, one night she waited until everyone was

asleep, then snuck out the window and ventured into the night to go see the Gypsies.

     She came to the clearing in the woods where they were camped. They were in great form,

playing music, singing, dancing, and making merry. After a few minutes, a little girl my mother’s

age walked over and offered her an apple. My mother gladly accepted, and the two stood there

a few minutes eating their apples.

     A few minutes later, the little girl’s mother walked over and asked my mom, “Would you like

to dance with us?” And my mother said, “Yes, I would.”

     And so she danced with the Gypsies. And after that, every time the Gypsies were camped

nearby, my mother would wait until everyone was asleep, then sneak out through a window to

go dance with the Gypsies.