One day in the mid-thirties Blaine “Dude“ Small came galloping down the road that ran in front of our house and rode his horse right up in our yard. “It’s the end of time, the angels are singing”, he yelled.
We went outside and we too could hear the angels singing. The sound was coming from the eastern sky as prophesied, but we could not see anything. In a few minutes the singing stopped and this booming voice proclaimed, “Get Right with God.”
Dude had not been too interested in religion up to that time, but he was ready to change his ways. I don’t remember if Dude was in church the following Sunday or not, but we certainly were.
It was no until later when members of a religious group not known in the area started going from house to house and passing out literature that my parents figured out what was going on.
It was revealed the “intruders” had set up loudspeakers at the top of the ridge on the south side of the church. At that time the hillside behind the old church was clear and in pasture. One could stand at the top of the hill and yell and be heard for some distance in he valley below.
I remember my step grandmother, Gussie Wade, who lived at he top of the hill above us, was frowned upon for accepting the literature that was being passed out. Gussie was somewhat of “free spirit” who had a curiosity about things beyond the ridges that surrounded Rogers Creek.
Gussie lived alone in the big white house after grandpa died and was the best friend a six year old could have.
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