"Tha church I growed up in was little", he said. "Tweren't much bigger 'n a good sized hankskuff. We didn't have no choir, weren't no place ta put a choir if we'd a had one. Ever'body jist sung together them days. You jist decided which part ye wanted ta try and ye give it yer best shot, and if it went bad...well...weren't nobody gonna say nothin' cos we'as all pretty much in tha same boat."

"My mama had a beautiful alto voice, but, whenever we'd stand ta sing, I always tried ta get next ta Daddy cos Daddy sung bass. I'as jist little, ye know, but I'd stand right there singin' bass jist like he did, and I felt ten foot tall, I'as so proud.”

”Onlyst music we had was a old upright pianer that stood over in tha corner. My Aunt Mildred always played it. She played ever'thang by ear, so we'as sorta limited as ta what we could sing. But we sung Amazing Grace, Love Lifted Me, Leanin' on tha Everlastin' Arms, Tha Old Rugged Cross, PRAY-cious MEMrreees."

Othaniel grinned when I laughed at his pronunciation of that last title, then he shook a boney finger at me and said, "You think I'm kiddin'. I ain't, that's jist how they sung it. Never did like that song. I told my wife, Bertha, that if she let anybody sing Pray-cious Memrreees over me when I go, I'd come back and haunt her!!" The mischievous twinkle in his eyes matched well his boyish giggle.

Then after a thoughtful pause, he continued, "I guess Little Church in tha Wildwood musta been our favorite, though, cos whenever somebody'd drop a hymnal on tha floor, it jist natur'ly flipped open ta tha Little Church page, we'd sung it so much, ye know."

"No Mildred couldn't read a note of music but she sure could make that old pianer stand up an' dance! Wy, sometimes I half 'spected ta look up an' see all tha angels o’ Heaven come a'floatin' down jist ta get a chanct ta sing with Mildred's playin' "

”No tellin' how old that pianer was. It was plum wore out as early as I can 'member...it had a bunch of sticky keys. Whenever tha keys would stick, tha singin' jist had ta stop till they could get'em unstuck. I 'member one time...it'as First Sunday, an' Peacher Kimsey was there waitin' his turn. Uncle Bill was leadin' singin' and wanted ta sing one more song before we stopped, ta sorta impress tha Preacher, I guess. We turned ta page 247 an' started. Tha music was sweet and louid, ever'body was in fine voice, and it was a foul-fillin' time...'til tha pianer stuck… an' tha music jist stopped, all of a sudden, ye know. Then, floatin' on tha reverant silence, we all heard, "Old McDonald had a farm, EIEIO". Well, 'course I started lookin' 'round, like ever'body else, ta see who done it, and, whata ye think??? It was my own little brother, over there t'other side of Mama, jista singin' away. Well, tha kids in tha next pew got ta gigglin' and, I guess, I got embarrassed, an' I give 'im tha elbow and said 'Hush! yer singin' tha wrong words". Thankfully, tha music started again an' we all just picked up where we'd left off "In tha sweet buy an' buy, we will meet at that beautiful store". An' there was my brother, happy as a dead pig in tha sunshine, singin' at tha top of his voice 'with a moo moo here an' a moo moo there, EIEIO.’ "

Here I just had to stop Othaniel and ask, "Grandfather, how happy is a dead pig in the sunshine?" "Did'ye ever hear one complain?" he replied, slapping his knee. His resonant laugh rang across the Square.

"I never will fergit that tha longest day I live!" he said and then there was another of those thoughtful pauses. It seemed sometime before the old gentleman spoke again. I waited, not wanting to disturb his memories. Finally he looked at me and said, "Ye know, it's been comin' ta mind a lot lately, and I done a heap o' studyin' on it, and...well...I come ta realize somethin': My brother, there, he was jist little, ye know, an' he didn't know tha words good as I did, but he still felt tha need ta sing fer tha Lord...felt it jist as strong as anybody in tha congregation. So he sung tha onlyst song he knowed, and he put his whole little heart into it. An', well, I reckon I thought of somethin' I hadn't before: Wouldn't this old world be a better place ta live in if we'd all jist stop fussin' at our brothers....leastways 'til we'd learnt ta sing tha song God give us ta sing?"

He looked at me, expectin' an answer, but I never had a chance to speak. "Listen", he said, "hear that? That's Bertha callin me ta supper. I better go cos she gets so worried if I come in late." With that he pushed himself up to standing, with the aid of his walking stick. He was taller than I'd imagined and a bit thinner, but the warm smile was there as always. Tipping his frayed straw hat in farewell, he turned and walked off down the Square, his surprisingly rich deep voice singing, "In tha Sweet by-and by we will meet on that beautiful shore....EIEIO."