I’ve taken advantage of the gap in my schedule (NASCAR proposal is in and National conference doesn’t start until next week) to come home to see my mother and my step-father. I’ve been quite worried about my mother. She had open-heart surgery last September and when I saw her in June she was doing terrible. After I threatened to pack her up in my car and take her to Atlanta to see a cardiologist (guaranteed to light a fire under them), they finally switched doctors. Hallelujah! New doctor adjusted her meds and she’s doing great. She sounded good on the phone but I needed to come see it for myself.
This morning while I was out for a run (yep, better get out there early since the thermometer’s gonna hit in the low hundreds today), it occurred to me that while people will arrive from all over for National next week, they won’t get a real taste of the real south. Atlanta, which I love, with its blend of cultures from all over the world, is like an appetizer. For a true taste of the south, you have to find the small towns like the one I grew up in.
Here’s my taste of the south when I come home:
Supper is the evening meal. If I slip up and call it dinner my stepfather is quick to remind me, “Girl, you’re in supper country now. We don’t have dinner.”
Supper last night was fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, potato salad, fresh butterbeans with okra, sliced tomatoes, sweet tea, and good conversation. All homemade.
The dishwasher is…me. They don’t have a dishwasher and Mama always fusses that she can do it, but I wash and she dries. You know, you can have some good conversation cleaning up a kitchen.
Sitting on the back stoop in the shade drinking a cold beer with my stepfather before supper because Mama doesn’t like beer in the house.
An after-dinner, oops, after-supper walk is down the one-lane dirt road that runs past their house. Giant pin-oaks that have probably stood there for sixty years stretch their branches clear to the other side and form a green canopy studded with mistletoe.
Standing out at the fig tree and picking and eating fresh figs. This is probably one of my favorite things in the world. It’s impossible not to know a moment of sublime contentment when you pluck a fresh fig and bite into it.
Everyone knows you, even if you haven’t lived her in 25 years. I was standing in the grocery store line to buy a six-pack of beer. My elementary school principal was behind me and said, “I see what you’re buying.” Let’s see… quick calculation… I was legal 25 years ago. Still I said, “Yes, sir. My mama knows I’m getting it.”
They’ve added a traffic light since I left home. There are now three in town.
I can only access the Internet through a 1-800 dial-up. No other available connections.
A large number of churches per capita, mostly Baptist and Methodist, a couple of other denominations sprinkled in.
It’s my south, and I love it. It’s home.
I am with you there sister. Your thoughts are what my family (3 sisters & 3 brothers) are all about. I will never live anywhere else but here. Where I grew up, Bessemer, was so safe, that in the summers my sister and I would either walk or ride our bicycles to the other side of town to go to the library. Right now I live in Gardendale and it is like that too. I feel very safe in my community and have great neighbors around me who know who I am. Also, as neighbors we look out for each other. When I was in the hospital 2 years ago, one neighbor cut my yard for me. Recently another sent over some watermelon, which I love and she knew this. I send sweets over to her house for her family. When I hang my laundry out (yes, I do this every week througout the year, it’s great for letting my mind wander), the neighbor behind me, chats to me. That’s what we do here in the South. Take care of each other. Thanks for sharing. Hopefully, when the others come to Atlanta for Nationals, they will have an opportunity to see some of the small towns here.
Comment by Ginger — July 20, 2006 @ 8:48 am
that is good to hear. your family sounds great.
has a winner been picked for the goodies? :d
Comment by kim — July 20, 2006 @ 9:34 am
I did not grow up in a small town (Huntsville isn’t the siza of Atlanta, but small it is not) but I can relate to the ‘coming home’ feeling. (*) I can remember summers spent at my grandmothers house, in her garden and in her kitchen. I was also the dishwasher-all of the grandkids were. Beer wasn’t allowed on her property, and to smoke you had better be outside and away from her flowers. (f) But the food is something I remember most. Nothing that could be grown was ever store bought(this was also how she supplemented her income). To this day, my older brother and I still call each other to decide what is missing from our own dishes to see if we can recapture the flavors of youth. :d
Comment by Sheryl M — July 20, 2006 @ 11:35 am
Ginger, it sounds like a great place to live. One of my favorte things in life is to sleep on sun-dried sheets. They’re not quite as soft as a dryer, but no dryer sheet in the universe can replicat the smell. The sheets are always sun-dried at mama’s house.
Kim, I just checked and they’ve been posted.
Sheryl, I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t know how to fry chicken, make biscuits, cook rutabegas, turnips, or collard greens. I need to learn because I love them all. My mother is teaching me to make fig preserves.
Comment by Jennifer — July 20, 2006 @ 3:09 pm
Jen, oh, how I miss fresh figs! My grandmother had them in her backyard, along with a pecan tree and of course, because this is Florida, oranges and tangerines. It was a feast outside. It’s fig season, but I haven’t been able to convince myself to spend $6.99 to buy figs in the grocery store.
Comment by JulieLeto — July 21, 2006 @ 6:24 am
Sounds wonderful, Jen! Supper country, indeed. :)
Comment by Rhonda — July 21, 2006 @ 6:41 am
Julie, you need to plant one because they are wickedly expensive and it’s just not the same as picking and eating fresh. Is there room in your yard? I have one at my house.
You’d like it Rhonda!
Comment by Jennifer — July 21, 2006 @ 6:59 am
cool thanks
Comment by kim — July 21, 2006 @ 9:58 am
Oh, Jen — I would love to see that side of things — it sounds absolutely lovely! (Although I think I gained two pounds just reading the description of dinn– er, supper.
)
I’ll bet it was relaxing to be there, too. :)
See you soon!
Comment by Kris Starr — July 21, 2006 @ 2:55 pm
Kris, it is incredibly relaxing although I’m always happy to return to my messy house. And speaking of gaining weight there where the usual refrain is, “You’ve only had seconds. Didn’t you like it?” — my mom had the nerve to tell me today I might have trouble fitting into my RITA dress because I ate a handful of cheese curls. :p
Comment by Jennifer — July 21, 2006 @ 9:04 pm