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Third Sunday dinner on The GroundS, July 1976 Crystal Wilkinson Yolanda and Mona watched the cars line up along both sides of the street. Not just the normal neighborhood cars, the newest of which were at least two or three years old, but brand new cars that gleamed in the sunlight and still smelled car-lot fresh and sported black glistening tires that hadn’t seen much dirt yet. Two big yellow church buses full of out-of-towners pulled into the lot. And a long, silver charter bus with air conditioning and a bathroom careened along the blacktop until it came to a high profile stop right in front of the church as though it were a limousine, and fifty-five strangers from Atlanta strutted off the silver steps. A guest choir. People milled the street and talked to folks they hadn’t seen in years. All of Opulence’s wayward children who lived as far off as Texas or California showed up talking city talk and driving long black shiny Cadillacs and red sports cars. They brought exotic gifts for their relatives—silver trays for chitterlings and fried potatoes and crystal goblets for Kool-aid and sweet iced tea. And the mothers and grandmothers would say,
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Sep 28, 2008
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