CHAPTER EIGHT

TRIP TO NASHVILLE

Dick, do you remember our trip to Nashville to attend the Hardeman-Pullias meeting? Brother N. B. Hardeman did the preaching and brother C. M. Pullias led the singing. The meeting was held in the Ryman Auditorium, which accommodated a lot of people, and it was full at each service.

Pop hired someone to take us down there, and we stayed at the Maxwell house. Our room was on the second floor, and left something to be desired. The water spouts in the bathroom were put in wrong. They said hot and cold, but when you turned the hot on, it was cold as the cold. Knowing the hot spout was out of whack, I just forgot it, and used the cold during our stay. On our way home, I complained to Pop, and he set me straight. I felt pretty silly.

I had another complaint. Our room was almost over some pool tables on the first floor, and those balls clicked all night. How did I know? I was awake all night!
Pop turned us loose the next morning, and we beat a careful path down Fourth Avenue to Church Street, then over to Fifth; then to Union; then back to Fourth Avenue and our home base. We made this trip two or three times, and our courage grew with each trip.

The last time around, you spied a small package in a drug store window, which you purchased without consultation. You stuffed it in your pocket, and when we got back to our room, you slipped it in the valise, refusing to let me see it, either.

We stayed a couple of days, and then came back on the train to watertown, and rode the bus home.

When we walked in the house, you couldn't wait to show your purchase to Mom. You unwrapped it, and holding it out proudly, said, "Look, Mama, what I bought! I think they are called bicycle cards, at least there's a picture of a bicycle on the box."

Mom directed a look of pained reproach at Pop, who was completely innocent. Then, without a word, she lifted the box with its unbroken seal from your hand, and dropped it in the cook stove.

In later years, we played bridge in her house, and maybe a game or two of poker on the sly, but she never joined us. Her game was Chinese checkers.

Speaking of Brother Pullias, I was privileged to worship with him for a number of years at the Shamrock Shores congregation, and heard him preach many fine sermons in the absence of the regular minister. He was old, and the years had worn his body, but not his mind nor his tongue.

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One Sunday morning I was coming out of my class with my Bible and a couple of reference books under my arm, and Brother C. M. spied me.

"Young man, you need only one Book to teach that class" he said almost indignantly, and stalked on.

Actually, neither he nor Mom needed even one Book very often, for they had most of it in their heads. What a tragedy they couldn't leave those treasures behind them!

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