Synopses & Reviews
Chapter One 'Bye, 'Bye, Walnut Ridge
Not until she swung the last of those brimming-over-with-apples wooden crates onto the truck's rear platform did my grandmother stop to wipe a bit of sweat from her forehead. "Used to be I'd load my truck front to back without so much as sweating up a drop," she said, while giving her forehead a quick swipe with the sleeve of her flowery dress. "Must sure be getting old."
What a strange thought! At the same time that I knew all grandmothers are old, I somehow still couldn't believe it. I mean really believe that my very own Mama Regina was getting old. "You getting old? Why, everybody says you're Walnut Ridge's best volunteer fire fighter! And not even your hired man can lift a single one of those crates onto this truck without struggling, straining, and sweating, and remember Sidney Earl ain't even seen the last of his teens. Now, ain't that the truth?"
I watched as her gray head bobbed ever so slowly, first up and then down, and I could just tell that she was thinking. I could tell that she was thinking of something that happened so very long ago. And as we walked back into the house, she began her out-loud remembering. "Reckon I wasn't even as old or as strong as Sidney Earl is now when your granddaddy up and died. Lordy, I felt so bad, missing him like I did. Oh, it was sad, what with your own mama just a sweet little baby, crying in her crib.
"That's when I figured that I didn't have no choice in this world, but to get strong or to get poor. Somebody had to pick the apples, put them into crates, load them onto the truck, and drive them to market. Somebody had to make us some money. Yes siree, and that somebody wasn't nobody butme. Nobody but skinny little me to take care of my farm and my pretty, little baby girl -- your mother!"
Although I had never seen her eat or drink anything any more magical than Dr. Booden's ugly tasting cough medicine, still and all I thought I'd tell her what folks hereabouts are all-the-time saying. "Some folks in Walnut Ridge say you've got yourself some very secret SECRET that you keep all to yourself. Some secret that you've never told, 'cause only somebody with either a magic medicine or maybe some magic words could be as strong as you are."
"Ha!" she answered, as she served me up a thick slab of honey-baked ham and half a platter of her really crispy-crackly okra. It wasn't until she set herself down in front of her own plate of ham and okra that she said "Ha!" once more. While she reached for a square of cornbread, I waited patiently. At least patiently for me, which probably ain't very patient at all, but even so, she still didn't say another word. Well, maybe that was only 'cause she was drinking buttermilk. A person probably needs food in her belly before she goes telling secrets, especially very important, magical secrets.
After what seemed like a very long while, but was probably only a very short while, I figured that she wasn't going to say anything more than "Ha!" So, I had to come right out and ask her what I've been wanting to know for all these weeks I've been living here with her in Walnut Ridge. Why, any minute now Ma and Pa will be driving up that dusty road to bring me back home to Pocahontas, and I might never get a better chance to ask than now.
I listened while the okra made loud, crunching sounds in my mouth. "Well, how do you reckon you didit, Grandma? If it's not magic, then how come you don't just up and tell folks how you did it? Just got so strong?"
Suddenly the wrinkles across her forehead wrinkled more deeply. "What you talking about, girl? Is you saying that I'm keeping secrets?"
"Well, the truth is, folks are say --"
"And I've told you more than once not to go listening to what folks in Walnut Ridge, Arkansas, be saying, 'cause if they said only what they know to be true, then most folks wouldn't hardly be doing a speck of talking!"
"But if they don't know," I protested, "then that sure don't keep them from suspecting this or suspecting that. Folks say that all the time Grandpa lived, they never saw tiny, little you lifting anything heavier than your seven-pound baby. But folks sure sat up and took notice after Grandpa died. Why, both the Mulhern brothers tell how they looked out their window one morning and saw you pushing your loaded with apples truck five miles into town after the motor broke down."
The old lady shook her head so hard that her dangle earrings struck back and forth against the side of her face. "I don't care what them Mulherns go around saying! The motor didn't fall out till I reached the highway, so I didn't have to push that truck no five miles! Four miles maybe, but five miles never!"
"Well, maybe," I said, hoping not to get her all excited again. "If you could just tell everybody how you got strong enough to push a loaded truck four miles, then folks would stop asking, stop pestering, and finally stop wondering."
Mama Regina sighed just as though this explaining was going to be real hard work, a heap harder work than lifting up heaving apple crates or evenpushing her broken down truck. "If I've told one person, I've told a dozen people, and some of them I've told more than once. Fact is, most folks don't much like the truth 'cause the truth is hard, but magic -- well, magic is easy. With magic everybody can get everything they want anytime they want it by sprinkling a little stardust, making a wish, or saying silly stuff like Abracadabra.
Synopsis
Join the irrepressible Beth Lambert as she goes home after a long visit with her grandmother in Walnut Ridge, Arkansas. Beth is happy to see her friends the Pretty Pennies, and even happier to see her family (and eat her mother's fried turkey, tamale pie, and floradora potatoes), but she might just be happiest of all to see her best friend, Philip Hall.
But not for long, because Philip gets it into his head (with a little help from Beth) that she made a new friend in Walnut Ridge -- a boyfriend. Now Philip won't rest until he meets this "nutty Walnutter" face-to-face in an arm-wrestling match in front of the whole town. There's only one problem -- Beth's new friend doesn't exist. She made him up! Once again Beth's mouth has gotten her into trouble. And once again she'll have to do some fast talking to see if she can get herself out of it.
About the Author
Bette Greene's first novel,
Summer of My German Soldier, hailed as "an exceptionally fine novel" by the
New York Times, has become a modern classic. Published in 1973, this beloved book has inspired an Emmy Award–winning television film and a recent stage musical. The first book in the Philip Hall series,
Philip Hall Likes Me. I Reckon Maybe., was a 1975 Newbery Honor Book and a 1974 New York Times Outstanding Book of the Year.
Born in a small Arkansas town, Bette Greene has lived in Memphis, Tennessee, Paris, France, and New York City. She now lives in Brookline, Massachusetts, with her husband, Donald.