Dispatch, November 29, 2004:  Graven Images

by V. Lee Parker


“Them’s graven images.”

    Consistently I hear this when I give various Sabinelanders rides in my pick-up, usually because they broke down in the Wal-mart parking lot and need a lift home ‘til Uncle Roy Dean or Cousin Gene or “my grandbaby Cody” who is usually 6’2 with a goatee can “get over yonder” and take care of the problem.

    What they’re talking about is the statues of the Virgin Mary and the Holy Infant of Prague I keep on the dashboard.  “Nome,” I say, “them’s points of faith.”

    “I know a graven image when I see one,” they usually say.  Either that or just, “Hrmph.”

    There’s a nice mix of Catholics and Protestants in Sabineland and they keep out of each others’ way and try not to discuss religion.  But when a known Protestant like me has a couple of graven images sitting on the dashboard, word gets around.

    “Has Lee converted?”  That’s the question burning in the minds of the ladies of the Sabineland Ladies’ Missionary Association at their monthly meeting.  I am bringing  the vegetable tray and I am late.  Naturally I hear them discussing me.  They’ve got voices as shrill as mockingbirds.

    “Cloodie said she’s put graven images on her dashboard.  Both her and Linda Fay has seen them.”

    “Why on earth would she do that?”

    “Lord only knows.  You know how Lee is.”

    The ladies titter. 

    “Maybe she has a Catholic beau.”

    “Lee?  Ha!”

    “Well, if she would lose thirty pounds and stop eating candy bars all day, maybe she’d find her a man.”

    “She’s just like her mother.  Big in the behind.”

    “And her grandmother had a big behind too.”

    “Oh yes, Miss Ruby got so bottom heavy she couldn’t hardly walk.”

    “Well, Lee’s heading that way too.  She better watch it.”

    “I think she’s given up on dating at this point.  She IS what they call eccentric.”

    “I mean!”

    The ladies snicker.

    “I still don’t understand why she has graven images on her dashboard.”

    “Maybe living like a nun is getting to her.”

    The ladies guffaw.  I hear them slap their thighs.  It’s time to break up this sin fest.

    “Gossiping, ladies, is not Christlike,” I say brightly as I walk in and hug each one.

    “We weren’t gossiping,” Miss Opal says.

    “Oh, no,” the other ladies chime in. 

    “We were just chatting,” Miss Gayle says and nods at the others.

    “That’s right,” they say in unison.

    “Y’all want to know why I got those statues on my dashboard.”

    The ladies don’t say anything.  They’re not going to acknowledge they were discussing me, but they want to know.  Their eyes are wide and expectant.

    “Old Miss Martinez gave them to me back when I was working at the Wal-mart. I used to help her get around the store and find things.  She was as good as could be.  Never had an unkind word to say about anyone.” 

    “Well, Lee, that’s between you and God – those graven images.”

    My explanation wasn’t very titillating and the conversation quickly turns to our missionaries in El Salvador, who I imagine are converting a whole mess of Martinezes.