![]() ![]() I stood watching, half-hidden in the shado of the doorway.Ĭreed (bellowing in stentorian tones): "You-all had better stop your meanness and I'll tell you for why. Another would be chosen to be the "preacher," all the rest, "mourners." I remember one day when Sam Houston Holcomb was the "corpse" and Creed Allen, always the class clown of the group, was elected "preacher." Creed, already at ten an accomplished mimic, was turning in an outstanding performance. One child would be elected to be "dead" and would lay himself out on the ground, eyes closed, hands dutifully crossed across his chest. ![]() All that saved it was the spontaneous creativity of the children and the fact that, unerringly, they caught the incongruities and absurdities of their elders. To me, it seemed bizarre and mawkish play. "Let's play funeral" was a favorite game at recess. “I soon saw, however, that Creed's obsession with death was typical of most of the children. ![]()
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