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The Night Hollergal Got Religion
Hollergal's mommy was a very religious woman and tried her level best to live at the foot of the cross.  In the 78 years she walked this mortal coil, she practiced her own brand of religion, a combination of many faiths, mostly holiness, some Pentecostal, and part Church of God.  She raised us as few others have been raised. The sisters of our church wore no make-up, no pants, no short sleeves, and did not cut their hair.  There was no dancing, no cussin, and no movies.  The very young stayed home with daddy on Sunday and Wednesday nights while mommy and the older ones started the long trek out to the Wabaco Church way before dark, soon as those church bells started ringing.  I remember many tears from being left home like a baby.  Well, the evil cousin and my sister always got to go to church, and Hollergal listened with awe at the tales they told, not of religious experiences, but of getting up and singing special songs, getting constant supplies of chewing gum and nickels, and, most of all, looking at all the young boys who came to church.  They told such magnificent stories about the benefits of going to church.  Ol' Hollergal decided to see for herself, and announced to her mommy that she had the calling to get saved.  Needless to say, Mommy was overjoyed, delighted that her good example and nightly prayers had touched her child's heart, so she went along with her daughter's plan to infiltrate the church.  It was several days before the next prayer meeting, which was a good thing because there were preparations to be made.  First, I hunted out my best flour sack dress, and my best princess slip.  I borrowed some Evening in Paris from Honeybunch, who also suggested I may want to borrow some lipstick and a ribbon.  I had an important consultation with the evil cousin, who just happened to be the best bust stuffer in seven counties. On the day before 'lil Hollergal was to get saved, she washed her hair in vinegar water and silver dust washing powders, rolled it up tight on a Prince Albert can and paper bag rollers, and started cleaning up. A couple of hours before the church bells called Mommy in, Hollergal went to the evil cousins house and got ready.  When Mommy got home she was surely surprised, but not too shocked to grab Hollergal and wipe them pretty little red lips off.  Of course the odor of perfume trailed us all the way to church.  I wasn't too worried because I knew I had an ace in the hole, my sure fire short cut to popularity, stuffed down in the side of my bloomers....my stuffing!  Well, to make a long story short, my religion did not go exactly as planned.  When I went in the church house, there were lots of good looking boys alright, but there were also lots of pretty older girls, girls who played the piano, girls who sang about little lost sheep in voices that made the old women weep, girls in pretty dresses and yards and yards of satin hair ribbons that held their shiny tresses back.  Poor 'ol Hollergal tried to participate, to become one of them, but, alas and alack, she was out done.  I got up to sing a special, which I had to request myself, and couldn't make a sound.  I must have spoke in tongues half an hour, no one heard me.  When I tried to help anoint with oil and lay on hands, I nearly got stomped by the old people.  There wasn't a tambourine or guitar I could play, nothing I could do to impress the boys.  Then I thought of what 'ol Holergirl had that no one else had.  I reached down in my bloomers, pulled out my home made falsies, slid them down the front of my dress and, man, I let the spirit lead me.  I remember shouting up behind the pastor, past the evangelist and right down into the middle of where the sisters, who had fallen under the power, laid.  At every leap I made I could feel my bosoms bouncing up and hitting my face.  Then I noticed Mommy coming after me, just when I was getting righteous.  Oh, man, I can still feel the heat in that small room, feel the thumping beat of those guitars, the ringing of tambourines, and the hand clapping.  I wasn't one to let impending doom deter me and I must have danced from one end of that church to the other a dozen times before church was over.  I laid my hand voluntarily in my mother's hand and we started the walk home.  I remember the night was warm and breezy, the moon was the only light.  I remember little groups of people behind and in front of us all talking at the same time about the blessings they had received.  Mommy never said a word, but right in the middle of the Wabaco bridge, I felt her strong hands going down the front of my dress, and with a simple flip of her wrist, the beautiful Hollergirl, became just plain ol Hollergal again.  I will never forget the sight of the moon light reflecting on my falsies as they floated down the north fork of the Kentucky River that night.  I hope some little Hollergal down river found them and enjoyed them as good as I di