On the nights that I stayed at Granny's, I listened to her pray. It had not yet occurred to me that there could be a stronger adversary than the one who kept me from wanting to get up on Sunday mornings, but I felt Granny’s fear – and I knew she felt mine.

By this time, Granddaddy quit going to church. Now, while Granny prayed for deliverance, Granddaddy “sued the pants off the ... niggers!” Growing up in South Louisiana, I understood that “nigger" was a term used in the presence of Granny and children. Down by the river (or in the bar) they were called much worse, and his slurs were not necessarily racial. "Nigger" could apply to any unfortunate individual who did not happen to share his stubborn point of view.

Granny continued to study her bible as Granddaddy studied people, visiting homes and offices, cultivating friendships that would last a lifetime.

By the end of 1955, Granny knew every scripture from Genesis to Revelation, and Granddaddy knew every judge, banker, or sheriff from the shores of the Calcasieu to the boundaries of the Louisiana Purchase. Granny quoted scriptures while Granddaddy dropped names.

Although Granny was not fully aware (at that time) of the enemy's stronghold, she was building a wall; and Granddaddy, in his own way, was building what he believed to be a higher wall.