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In a movie Augusta would lift her swing over the old man’s head and take Lester out with a blow to the temple. Then she’d get me in the brow, or the back of the head. A movie would give you the Bible reading she’d done; you’d get early scenes, in Sunday school, up in the church classroom, smelling of wood wax, of gardenias, Augusta studying the book of Jeremiah, the prophet looking upon Jerusalem, at the wretched state of things, the scorn of the people, saying: the prophets will become wind, and the word is not in them. . Then while the camera panned the whirligigs outside (including the one that I smashed up) a voice would read: the dead bodies of this people will be food for the birds of the air, and for the beasts of the earth. . You’d see her in Sunday school, listening carefully, her face now beautiful and soft, her skin clear, her eyes bright, her hair held back in a ponytail. In the movie you’d see her growing up; you’d see her father trying to get at her; you’d see her own Vernon, Asshole #1, in the flesh. Then you’d see her trying her first, a pale greenie, and you’d watch as it filled her eyes like a fishbowl. Then she’d untie her grandfather’s wrists and rub them and cry and they’d do a little square dance of joy, a little do-si-do of happiness. (Because her grandfather had worked the Muskogee square dance circuit as Burt Wolverine. He was one of the best.) You’d see them dancing and then there would be a fade to a scene of him calling a large dance, people moving in and away from each other, hooking back, catching, arm in arm, flying out, making kaleidoscopic formations as they moved.

Lester put his fingers up into a box to make a frame of Augusta swinging, two-handed, and said, Bingo, that’s a take, cut. I said, Stop. He said, Cut. I said, Stop, Augusta. He said, Cut, cut, and grabbed her from behind, drawing her up and kissing her head, saying, That was great, just great, that’s a keeper for sure, you were wonderful, Augusta, you’re a brave girl, you’re going to reap awards for that scene alone. Outside, I stood for a moment in the yard and listened to the soft chatter of the whirligigs ratcheting, swirling around, sawing and bucking in the wind. Then I got in the car and sat on the seat next to Lester.