Cranks My Tractor

Published: Thursday, September 12, 2013 at 09:20 AM.


As I have written before, my godmother, Phyllis, is a 93 year-old African-American.  It’s been about two years now since she called me by mistake and has continued to call me three to five times a week.  When my mother passed away, Phyllis and I decided that she should be my godmother.

It has been a wonderful relationship, though I have never met her in person.  I’m a white guy who grew up in Alabama whose godmother is a 93 year-old African-American, with a little bit of Chickahominy Indian in her, who looks Puerto Rican.   Those are almost the words she uses.  Phyllis says, “I’m part Black, part Chickahominy Indian, but I have curly hair like a Puerto Rican.

There was no menu to pick godmothers from when I needed one, but I’m pretty sure I got the best one.

When she calls, she asks about the children, she asks how I’m doing, and then she prays.  There is no preacher, pastor or priest that can come even close to what comes out of Phyllis’ mouth.

She quotes the Bible; she covers everything in “The Blood.”  I enjoy listening to her.  She tells me that she has some relatives who have told her to stop calling if all she is going to do is “preach and pray.”  I tell her to, “Bring it on, I want to hear it.”  She laughs and says, “Precious Be His Name.”

This last weekend, Phyllis broke into an old hymn, “There Is Power in the Blood.”  I sang with her.  We laughed and talked about how we would make a good duet.

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