The Family Album/Grandpop Has a Subtle Argument with the Minister

by Arthur Baer

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THE FAMILY ALBUM

GRANDPOP HAS A SUBTLE ARGUMENT
WITH THE MINISTER

THAT’S the family carry-all. When Grandpop made his will, he left that carriage to Uncle Abner with complete equipment. These was a whip and harness and a full set of carriage dogs.

Aunt Moosie cried a little when grandpop died. She was always crying. In fact, she wept so much she made everybody’s corns ache.

It was grandpop’s own fault that he died. He was opposed to not drinking. It broke granny’s spirit when grandpop used to come home every night and try to catch the goldfish in the parlor aquarium, using his whiskers for bait. He would let his beard hang down in the fish bowl and the goldfish would snap at them.

He never caught any goldfish, but it used to clean his whiskers because grandpop was a careful drinker but a careless eater. There was always some bread crumbs or other knick-knacks in his beard. That naturally was a harvest for the little fish.

Finally, grandpop’s heart got tired of trying to catch up with his breath, and—yes, those burned holes in the pages are marks of grandpop’s thumb. He loved to look through the album and used to wet his thumb on his tongue so he could turn the pages. We don’t know what he drank, but his wet thumb used to scorch the paper.

He was an earnest student of the Scriptures and loved to argue with the village minister of his pew and interrupted the sermon which was on alcohol in all its ramifications and grandpop started quoting but got a little mixed up.

The minister says, “He who drinks shall be damned.” That was when grandpop woke up and said, “You’ve got to stop swearing at me.” The minister wasn’t swearing at him, because there was lots of other folks in the church. But grandpop started quoting authority and said that drink was sanctioned by the prophets and the minister told him he was wrong.

So grandpop quoted, “Wine is a mocker and

strong drink is raging, and he who is overcome thereby shall inherit the earth.”

Everybody applauded, but the minister who told grandpop that there was no alcoholic edition of the Bible. So the minister said that grandpop was quoting from his own memory which was very poor, especially at collection time.

But grandpop told him that was his story and he would stick to it. So the minister said that grandpop ought to stick to the Sunday edition of the Scriptures and and don’t pay so much attention to the Saturday night extra.

Then he showed the congregation the real passage that didn’t say anything about he who is overcome thereby, inherits the earth.

He said to the old man: “Wine is a mocker and strong drink is raging. But he who is overcome thereby doesn’t inherit the earth.”

Grandpop said: “Well, he thinks he does, anyway, and that’s the same thing.”

The minister waved his arms and told him that it wasn’t the same thing and that if grandpop didn’t reform he was doomed to eternal torment and grandpop said there wasn’t no torment that alimony couldn’t cure. That brought grandmom into the argument and developed two strong cliques in the congregation. One faction thought grandpop was right and the horse ran away with the carry-all during the excitement. Naturally the carriage dog ran with him and all the folks ran outdoors and chased the carriage.

That’s the picture of them there. Grandpop isn’t in the carriage because the family wanted to make it a group picture and he didn’t want a good horse ruined by a bad load. So they decided just to take a picture of the horse and the carriage dog which was a white hound with tobacco juice spots.

It’s a funny thing about carriage dogs. They ain’t got no future and nobody cares about their past and they run along under the wagon. Yes, our carriage was a wagon on week-days, and the dog never gets anywhere and if he does he’s got to come right back.

If the wagon runs away they run with it and if the horse slows up they slow up and they’re like some folks, they’re victims of their environment. That dog there never did an original thing. Once there was a wreck when the milk train struck the wagon right in gran.

His name was whatever you wanted to call him and he wouldn’t answer anyway, because he only followed under the carriage and trusted to others to guide him. He is dead now, which is all for the best because there is nothing to run under but those family flivvers and you don’t want carriage dogs getting mixed up with differentials and there’s so many hills that a carriage dog would wear himself out changing gears.

Well, good-by, and don’t forget to write.

He would let his beard hang down in the fish bowl