The Feud

At thirty-three, Patella Henley was young to be so set in her ways, but set she was. She believed that life was a one-size-fits all proposition. What was good enough for her was good enough for everyone. She didn’t need all that fancy folderol. She believed in plain and simple living. That’s why planting only marigolds in honor of her mother appealed to her, a kind of no frill flower was just the ticket. Go to work, take care of your home, pay your bills, and go to church.

She was like her grandpa Ned Cochran in that way. They had gone to church as a family, Eustacia, Tibian, Patella, and Bob, the younger brother who Patella adored. He sprouted cuteness the moment he was born. He favored the Henley side with his curly, dark hair, plump lips, and bright blue eyes. Patella favored her mother’s side, the Cochrans. She had the drab stick-straight blond hair, pale skin sprinkled with freckles that popped out like mushrooms in the sun, and yellow-brown eyes like her mother. When Patella was a little girl her grandpa Ned called her Strawberry because her face was always sunburned and the chlorine in the city pool turned her hair green. He didn’t have a nickname for Bob who was a Henley through and through. He tried his best to steer away from anything to do with Tarsal Henley, Tibian’s dad. The Henleys and the Cochrans made the Hatfields and the McCoys look like amateurs in the feuding department. 

It all started when they began building the church that was to sit in the center of the block on the south side of the town square. World War II had ended and Ned had been recently discharged from the U.S. Navy. The church that Tarsal and Scapula Henley had been married in burned down four years after their wedding when a candle caught the dry Christmas tree in the church hall on fire.

The congregation had long been contributing to a building fund, and with the insurance money, they had more than enough money to build a fine new church.  Ned and the Tarsal sat together quite peacefully on the church board for many years, so once the board voted to release the funds for the new building, the two men headed to Steele’s Lumber store with their blueprints to set up the order for the materials that would become their new place of worship.

On the way they stopped at the Tipp Topp Diner for a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and Sid Topp’s famous venison sausage, washed down with strong black coffee. They were excited about the project and couldn’t to get started. Tarsal made his living as a builder and Ned made his an electrician. Ned’s cousin Ted was a church elder and a plumber so they had the big three covered and with the free labor of other church members they could afford to buy the finest materials and build a beautiful church.

Tarsal and Ned were sitting at the crowded counter at the Tipp Topp when Reverend Trout Finn came in. Old Judd was just finishing his coffee and gave up his seat to the reverend as he shuffled out the door forgetting as always to pay his check. The reverend squeezed in between Ned and Tarsal, the red vinyl topped counter stool groaned in protest under the weight of him. 

“Did you hear about the Widow Collins?” asked Reverend Finn.

“Nope,” said Tarsal with a mouth full of eggs.

“What about her? asked Ned.

“Well, she went over to… Yeah, the number one, eggs over easy, coffee and orange juice, a short stack of pancakes, two venison sausage patties, toast, and a side order of bacon, Sid,” said the reverend. “Anyway, she went over to Summerville to take care of her sister who’d been feeling poorly, stepped on the cat’s tail, causing the poor creature to screech so loud it scared the living daylights out of the Widow Collins. Literally. Her bad ticker just stopped.

Say, Sid, I’ll have a slab of that chocolate cake to hold me over until my breakfast is ready.” Tarsal and Ned slid looks at each other behind the reverend’s back, taking in the expanse of his substantial rear end.

“They read her will yesterday,” he said as he dug his fork into the huge slice of cake. “It’s the darnedest thing. She wants her poodle Foo Foo’s ashes buried with her in the family plot in the church graveyard.”

Tarsal was taking a big gulp of coffee and sputtered it all over himself and the countertop. 

“Why would she want to do a dang fool thing like that?” he said as he wiped the counter top with this napkin.

“That dog was her companion for eighteen years and she was saying he gave her more attention than Joe Collins ever did. She was looking forward to spending eternity in heaven with Foo Foo,” said the reverend. Ned tried not to look his way when the reverend was talking because his tiny little corn peg teeth were smeared with chocolate cake and icing.

“ I think that’s nice,” said Ned. “I wonder how she feels about spending eternity with Joe.”

“That’s nice? That dog’s not going to heaven. It’s a dog, d.o.g. It doesn’t have a soul, it’s an animal.”

Tarsal tried to keep his voice down, but he was getting worked up. He lived in a black and white world. Keep things simple was his motto. In his mind there were no gray areas. Ned was the opposite, he loved the idea that he would be reunited with the collies that he and his family had owned since he was a boy, especially Bess, who was fifteen-years-old and had failing kidneys. To Ned, that was one of the rewards of heaven, being surrounded by God’s creatures.

“You’re not going to let this sacrilege happen are you, Reverend Finn?” Tarsal eyed the reverend suspiciously.

“Sacrilege?” asked the reverend through the last mouthful of cake.

He scraped the plate with his fork, not wanting to miss one crumb. There was one lonely piece of cake left in the display case and he was seriously considering asking Sid to wrap it up to take home with him. It would hit the spot later when he was in his office writing the Sunday sermon.

“Reverend Trout Finn! Don’t you think it’s a sacrilege?” Tarsal wasn’t going to let it go.

“I guess I never really thought about it. I’m not sure it really matters all that much. The Widow Collins was a faithful member of our church her whole life and contributed quite handsomely to the building fund. I think it’s a matter of respect to honor her last wishes,” said the reverend as Sid refilled their coffee cups.

“I think it’s horse hockey. And I don’t want some unholy ashes in our graveyard,” said Tarsal with his jaw clenched.

“I don’t think it’s your decision alone. The church board will have to make that decision,” Ned said, thinking someone had better be the voice of reason.

Ned could see that Tarsal was building up a head of steam about this and he didn’t want him to blow up here in gossip central. Reverend Finn groaned when Tarsal mentioned bringing the board into it.

Tarsal and Ned had to move their plates and cups over to make room as Sid served up the reverend’s order. All the reverend wanted to do was eat his breakfast in peace. He wished he had never mentioned it and just put the ashes in the coffin with the Widow Collins. Only problem with that plan was Hal Hendricks, owner of Hendricks Funeral Parlor and Wax Museum was on the board also, so you couldn’t get anything past him.

And that’s how The Feud began. That next Monday night at the temporary church board meeting place in the back room of Mother Mary’s Pool Hall the first item on the agenda was the Widow Collins’ request. The ten members were evenly divided and no one would budge. Tarsal led the crusade to keep Foo Foo’s ashes out of the church graveyard.

“It’s against all I believe in. That graveyard is hallowed ground. Why we have soldiers in there who lost their lives for us. I don’t think they’d be honored to lie next to some soulless mutt.”

Ned just shook his head, “Now you’re just being dramatic, Tarsal Henley. You don’t know what those soldiers believed. Some of them might have had K-9 dogs in the service. Dogs who saved their lives, they might have wanted the same thing as Widow Collins.”

“And you’re just making up stories to try to prove your ridiculous point, Ned. Just because you were in the navy doesn’t make you an expert,” said Tarsal pointing his finger at Ned.

“Well, Tarsal, you saw exactly zero action from your dad’s farm when you got a deferment to stay home to run the farm and take care of your mother after your dad passed away, which I understand. Just don’t make assumptions,” Ned shot back.

The other board members shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, this was getting too personal. They’d better do something fast before these two called each other unpatriotic sons-a-guns and came to blows.

Reverend Finn suggested, not too optimistically, that they take another vote. And of course, the results were the same: five for and five against. The reverend was the eleventh member on the board and only voted in case of a tie. They all looked at him, waiting for him to clear this up once and for all.

“I’m going to abstain. Either way I vote will split the church in two. I can’t risk that. You need to work this out amongst yourselves,” he popped two antacids in his mouth trying to calm the fire of the ever-present and totally puzzling heartburn that had plagued him lately. Upon hearing this, every member  leaned back in their chairs, crossed their arms in unison, and sat in silence.

“You don’t have the luxury of waiting each other out. The Widow Collins’ funeral is the day after tomorrow,” said Reverend Finn.

“The bottom line is, I’m not changing my mind and I’m not building a church with the likes of you, Ned Cochran,” Tarsal got up and shoved his chair under the table.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ned asked as he stood up and faced Tarsal.

“You’ll find out, meet me on the church lot at 8:00 a.m. sharp tomorrow,” said Tarsal. He turned and marched out of the back door of Mother Mary’s.

“I don’t suppose we’ll be meeting at the Tip Topp for breakfast, “ Ned mumbled as he left the pool hall.

Next morning 8:00 sharp Ned arrived at the empty church lot where Tarsal was talking to Frank Stenner, the county engineer. Frank was setting up the transit. "What's going on, Tarsal?"

“Stand back, Ned. We’re dividing up this lot,” shouted Tarsal.

For a few heartbeats Ned just stood there with his mouth wide open, unable to process what he had just heard. As Tarsal’s word sunk in, Ned could feel his blood pressure rise.Tarsal turned his back on Ned who grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around."Tarsal, have you lost your mind?"

Whether or not Tarsal had lost his mind was irrelevant. Ned thought he was just plain nuts, and ignorant, and selfish, and judgmental. Well, it was a never-ending list would grow as the years went by. Ned Cochran was tired of the battle and just wanted a church again. And that’s how the there came to be two churches built back to back on the same lot off the town square of Chanceville. The lot split down the middle with the old graveyard staying on Tarsal’s side. The new graveyard would be on Ned’s side and would allow pet burials. first person to be buried on Ned’s side was the Widow Collins along with Foo Foo. The second person who needed burying was the Reverend Finn who choked on a Vienna sausage while sitting on a park bench watching the new constructions. God works in mysterious ways. Many of the people residents of Chanceville believed that He turned that sausage sideways in the reverend’s throat to save him the painful task of deciding which church to pastor.