This story comes from Grandmother Glover’s Voice. In this story, which took place in the 1920s, Grandmother tells about her grandson’s struggles with my mother’s parrot. As I sat on the floor next to Grandmother’s rocking chair, she said . . .
One of Carrie’s boyfriends gave her the strangest present I ever saw. The young man presented her with a green, talking parrot. Now, this parrot didn’t just say “hello” and “goodbye”. This amazing parrot could mimic almost anyone. If that parrot listened to someone for a few minutes, he could say the same words and speak in almost exactly the same tone of voice.
Unfortunately, the parrot liked to make fun of my grandson, Darrell. The parrot particularly liked to mock the sound of Darrell crying. And Darrell cried often. Tears came because his mother, Lizzie gave him frequent spankings.
Sometimes, Lizzie even pulled Darrell outside the church during services and whacked him. Of course, Darrell, being a little boy, commenced screaming and crying. I always felt so embarrassed. Everyone in the church service could hear the commotion.
The problem with the parrot resulted from Lizzie spanking Darrell at their home. After each spanking, Darrell would stuff his little doll in a paper bag and walk to our house. It wasn’t too far. When Darrell got about a block away, all of us, including the parrot, could hear him crying.
In a short time, the parrot began to sound just like Darrell when he cried. Of course, this made Darrell furious. One day, when Darrell couldn’t take it any longer, he picked up a stick and whacked that bird on the side of his head. From that time on, the parrot only had one good eye.
Darrell WWII Story
When Darrell returned from WWII, he had many metals, which he foolishly gave to me. It was foolish because I was four years old at the end of World War II and had no concept of what the medals meant. Darrell frequently said, “Barbie, I’ve been all around the world and I have seen every little girl in the world. You are the prettiest little girl in the whole world.” Even at four, I knew not to believe him. However, Mother worried about the lack of truthfulness and always whispered, “Don’t believe a word he says, Barbie.”