Old people are honest and frank in their speech. Uninhibited is probably a better word. As is the case with small children, old folks can say almost anything and get away with it. They not only grow short in memory, but also in their "tolerance" (or intolerance) of things they don't like. Most seniors think that political correctness is ridiculous.
Long live their wisdom.
An old white-haired brother in the Lord named Clayton Cooper was just such a person. He went to Glory boldly speaking his mind.
He was a Southern boy at heart, born in Oklahoma but reared in Sparta, Tennessee - which he often referred to as the, "garden spot of the world." He remembered, as a young boy, when his family moved to Tennessee from Oklahoma. Their moving van was a covered wagon.
Clayton was reared to be a farmer - a livelihood he carried with him into adulthood. Clayton moved his family to Georgia in the 1940's and continued to farm, while also driving a large, milk storage truck for a local dairy.
Clayton was reared to be a farmer - a livelihood he carried with him into adulthood. Clayton moved his family to Georgia in the 1940's and continued to farm, while also driving a large, milk storage truck for a local dairy.
This writer met Clayton when he was in his late seventies.
He wore a fresh pair of Liberty overhauls every day except Sunday. On The Lord's Day, he donned his only suit and made sure he was sitting on the third row from the front when the Bible class bell rang at 9:30 AM. Brother Clayton frequently commented during classes, especially when the subject matter stirred something within him. His practice was to raise a trembling index finger until he was recognized. He then stood where he was, clutching the back of the pew in front of him, as he made his comment or observation.
He wore a fresh pair of Liberty overhauls every day except Sunday. On The Lord's Day, he donned his only suit and made sure he was sitting on the third row from the front when the Bible class bell rang at 9:30 AM. Brother Clayton frequently commented during classes, especially when the subject matter stirred something within him. His practice was to raise a trembling index finger until he was recognized. He then stood where he was, clutching the back of the pew in front of him, as he made his comment or observation.
Once during a Bible class discussion, the topic of, "Vengeance is mine saith the Lord," was being hotly debated. All agreed that The Good Book said that vengeance belonged to the Lord, but some contended that the Lord always depended on human beings to get His work accomplished. As the exchange grew in its vigor, old brother Clayton raised his hand. When recognized by the teacher he stood up and slowly delivered a memorable gem.
"I know that the Lord said what he did...But, I see it this-a-way...If you don't like my peaches...Don't shake my tree."
Without another word, brother Clayton sat down. Muffled giggles peppered through the pews. The teacher thanked brother Clayton for his comment and moved the discussion to another text.
On another Sunday morning, the issue was, "Immodesty and Lust." Brother Clayton had always zealously spoken his mind in wrathful condemnation of such. Someone had asked him earlier during this series of studies to give his own definition of "Lust." Brother Clayton stood, faced the audience, and peering out over his thick glasses he replied, "I can't keep a bird from flying over my head, but I CAN keep him from making a nest in my hair." To this day, this writer frequently quotes homespun wisdom such as this.
The old adage, "Do as I say, not as I do," applied to at least some of the commentary from brother Clayton. The tandem of, "Immodesty and Lust," was a prime example. Though he railed with great fervor and passion against such sins, brother Clayton's family often told of him spending hours in front of his television set, intently watching scantily clad young women on the afternoon soaps.
During the Bible class in question, observations regarding, "Immodesty and Lust," were being offered in large measure. Some topics seem to generate more interest than others. Near the end of the class, a trembling index finger slowly rose from the pew down near the front. The teacher finally called his name. Brother Clayton stood, this time in a much more deliberate fashion than normal.
The auditorium went deathly silent.
E.F. Hutton would have been proud.
E.F. Hutton would have been proud.
"It's a crying shame that our young ladies walk around half nekkid like they do today," he began. At first his voice was low and soft, but grew louder and more passionate with each word. "Why, in my day...When a body strutted around...Not wearing no clothes...We thought they was either a whore...Or, else they was poor as a 'he-haint.'"
Good Christians from the South know that a "he-haint" is a male ghost. Further, it is a widely accepted truth that, since ghosts always appear unclothed, they must be poor and destitute. The only thing poorer than a "he-haint" is "Job's Turkey." Either way, the mental image is the same.
Brother Clayton's sermonette continued for several minutes. The biblical images he included were Adam and Eve, and an obscure reference to Samson and Delilah. The teacher hopelessly sat down on the edge of the rostrum next to the pulpit to listen. Mothers were struggling to mute their restless, crying babies. The deacons looked around to see the reactions of the class. One old sister, sitting half way up on the right hand side of the auditorium, began fanning herself with one of the funeral home fans kept on the back of each pew.
Finally, brother Clayton ran out of steam. The congregation breathed a collective sigh of relief. With one final burst of righteous indignation he delivered a powerful parting shot.
Good Christians from the South know that a "he-haint" is a male ghost. Further, it is a widely accepted truth that, since ghosts always appear unclothed, they must be poor and destitute. The only thing poorer than a "he-haint" is "Job's Turkey." Either way, the mental image is the same.
Brother Clayton's sermonette continued for several minutes. The biblical images he included were Adam and Eve, and an obscure reference to Samson and Delilah. The teacher hopelessly sat down on the edge of the rostrum next to the pulpit to listen. Mothers were struggling to mute their restless, crying babies. The deacons looked around to see the reactions of the class. One old sister, sitting half way up on the right hand side of the auditorium, began fanning herself with one of the funeral home fans kept on the back of each pew.
Finally, brother Clayton ran out of steam. The congregation breathed a collective sigh of relief. With one final burst of righteous indignation he delivered a powerful parting shot.
"We ought to tell these hot-tailed young women of ours," he shouted, "What a shame and disgrace it is...For them to wear their dresses so short...That now they have got...An extra set of cheeks to paint!"
As brother Clayton sat down, a mixture of laughter and murmuring filled the small church auditorium. The beleaguered teacher, not knowing what to say, thanked the class for their attendance and asked all to bow for a dismissal prayer.
Before he could begin the prayer, however, one old brother near the back - who was about the same age as brother Clayton - spoke out.
"I want to thank our dear brother for his words this morning," he declared. "I have always wondered...Exactly what the Good Lord meant...When He commanded all of us...To turn the other cheek."
Open, unrestrained laughter erupted from every corner of the auditorium. When the chuckling finally quieted, the teacher led a short dismissal prayer and adjourned the class.
As the congregation stood up to stretch, every female began tugging vigorously at their dresses and skirts. Brother Clayton's diatribe had evidently struck a nerve. Even the preacher's wife could be seen examining the length of her skirt.
Brother Clayton Cooper had, "done quit preaching and gone to meddling."
"Well I'll Be John Brown"
- David Decker
Revised: February 13, 2011
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