memoir

Don’t Spin Your Greens, Granny!

greens 2

When you live in the South and visit old folks in the country, the first thing you have to do is admire their garden. If you run out of excuses, you’ll come home with a “mess of greens.” I hate dealing with greens. For the unenlightened, greens include turnips, collards, or mustard greens. Boiled down low, with a bit of pork, and garnished with a splash of “pepper sauce,” greens make a delicious meal. A true connoisseur polishes off by sopping up the juice, or pot-liquor with cornbread. If you’re above the Mason-Dixon Line, try a roll. That’s the happy ending.

Now, we get down to the nitty gritty, literally. Greens have to be “looked and washed.” The first step is dispossessing the wildlife who habituate greens. Nobody wants to find half a worm or a cluster of bug eggs in their pot-liquor. You have to give both sides of each rumpled leaf a good look, wash, and then rinse copiously. I’d heard the glorious news that greens could be washed in the washing machine, cutting down tremendously on prep time.

The next time Bud visited an elderly family member, he came back wagging a bag of greens. I didn’t moan like normal, having recently heard the good news that greens could be washed in the washing machine. As usual, the basic information registered, not the total technique. I loaded the washer with dirty greens and detergent and hit the start button. Quite a while later, the alarm sounded, and I went to retrieve my sparkling greens. Alas, no greens remained, just a few tough stems and a few bits of leaves. A follow-up conversation with my friend revealed that I should have only washed them on gentle and not continue on to spend.

Though I hoped he’d forget, Bud came in that night expecting greens. I feigned innocence. “What greens?” It didn’t fly. “The greens I brought in yesterday.” It’s hard to come up with an excuse how precious greens went missing. I gave up and told the truth, though I don’t like worrying Bud stuff with that gets his blood pressure up. I’m considerate that way.

“They went down the drain.”

“How in the Hell did they go down the drain?” I don’t know why he gets all up in my housekeeping and cooking business

“They just did. Now don’t keep asking nosy questions!” “

“Exactly what drain and how did that happen?” “

“The washing machine drain.” I

I hoped if I answered matter-of-factly, he’d move on. I didn’t work. “

“You put greens in the washing machine? What in the Hell were you thinking?” I

I hate it when he apes back what I’ve just said. I’ve told him it gets on my nerves. “It takes forever to look and wash greens. Jenny told me she puts hers in the washer and it works great. I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to put them through spin.”

“Grouch, grouch, grouch @^%&( , #@$%! Don’t ever put )(^%&# greens in the washer, again!”

“Okay, okay. Don’t go on forever about it. I get tired of your nagging” Since then I’ve been careful not to spin them. It works great.

Thanks for the Lawn and RIP Charley

I will be forever grateful to our late neighbor Charley for our lush lawn. When we moved to our home forty years ago, our two acres was almost entirely in trees.

There wasn’t a blade of grass except for the front yard. We love shade, but didn’t want to live in a forest. We got busy clearing out the the excess. Sixty trees later, we still have plenty of shade. The other trees grew tall and strong.

Thanks to our drinking neighbor, Charley, we got a lush lawn with none of the work. This is one case where heavy drinking turned out well. Charley got out early every morning to tend his lawn. He turned the water on early, and by ten, was snookered. It ran till his wife got home from work every evening . Living downhill, we got the benefit of all that water, seed, and fertilizer. What a gracious gift!

Thank you Charley. Oh, The drink got him. RIP.

I love a sun-dappled lawn.

We still have plenty of trees.

Bumps in the Road Part 11

Powdered and perfumed, Kathleen was all dolled up when Bill got in. “You sure are pretty,I’m a lucky man, “ he said as he hugged her.” “We better get down to supper before they hog it all up!” She was still bashful about eating in front of him, so she just ate a little jello and salad. “Do you want my meatloaf?”she offered, though her stomach was growling.

“Sure, if you’re not gonna eat it.” The platter was making its second round and the last slice was going on Edward’s plate. Though Mrs. Martin laid a generous table, with six hungry men, everything was gobbled up down to the last biscuit. When she brought out the fried pies, Kathleen smiled and passed hers over to Bill.

“Are you sure?” he asked, though it was already half gone. “You sure don’t eat much.” It was so gratifying that he’d noticed.

They took their coffee back to the room, promising to bring the cups back. Kathleen was looking forward to another romantic evening. She hung her dress up to air and slipped into a light gown and duster.

“Kathleen, do you have any of that five dollars left? I want to go play poker with the boys and all I have is two bucks and change.” Kathleen was shocked at his wanting the money back, and for poker of all things. Her daddy would never have played poker!

“Uh, I have $1.46. Let me get my purse.” She dug the money out. He was out the door.

She was devastated. Bill had taken the last of their money to play poker! Why would he do that? Coming from a home where every penny was precious, she couldn’t imagine how he could just throw money away. She was angry and scared. Who had she married?

Kathleen Carries On Part 6 or Keep Your Hands off the Offering Plate

Mother is scrupulous about paying her tithe. On the last Sunday before January 1st, she was dressing for church and found $300 in her underwear drawer. “Oh, I must have been saving this for my tithe!” Tucking it in her purse, she dropped it in the offering plate as it passed. Almost immediately, she remembered she’d been saving for a new floor but it was too late to grab it back. She didn’t have all bad luck with the offering, though. One Sunday, she made change for a large bill when the plate was passed and came out $20 ahead. I never did believe that was a mistake. She wanted me to take her by Thrifty Liquor one Saturday. Since she is a rabid teetotaler, I had to know why. “They have the cheapest money orders in town. I always get my offering money order there” Mother believes in watching her pennies. I offered to go in and get it for her.

“Look at this, Mother! Mr. Thrifty is printed on here as big as Dallas! They’re going to think you’re one of those drinking Baptists!”

Of course I told my family. “ My nephew is a minister. Mother frequently attends his church and is well-known to his congregation. He acknowledged her attendance but turned to the ushers as they passed the offering plate,”I’m proud to have my grandmother here, but don’t let her get her hands on the offering plate.”

That’s not the last of her indiscretions. I was talking to her one Sunday as she changed clothes after church. “Well, where’s my bra? I can’t find bra!”

I acted disgusted. “Mother, I’ll bet you left it it the back seat of the deacon’s car again!” She didn’t deny it.

Bumps in the Road Part 10

Heat monkeys danced on the blacktop ahead of the bus bumping its way toward Box Elder. Kathleen avoided a plate-sized puddle of melted tar as she stepped off the bus. She didn’t want that on her new white sandals. Despite her care, they were dusty soon enough. The boarding house was a good quarter mile from the main highway. Cotton grew on both sides, as far as she could. The heat and humidity in East Texas were palpable by early July. She wished she’d gotten back earlier. She peeked in on Mrs. Martin and found her headed to her room for a nap. “Honey, if you want some lunch there’s egg salad and fried pies left from the men’s lunches. I’m gonna hang this sweaty dress in the doorway to air while the men are out and try to catch a little nap, but they ain’t a breath of a breeze.”

“Oh no, I’m not hungry, but I thought I’d take a quick bath before the men get back from work, if that’s okay,” Kathleen told her.

“Sure, just be sure to hang your towel and washcloth on the rack in your room. You know y’all don’t get but two towels and two washcloths a week. I don’t wash except on Mondays.”.

‘Yes, ma’am. I will.” Kathleen replied, taking herself off to get her linens and toiletries. After locking the door, she gave the tub a good scrubbing with BAB-O,  aware of the grimy men who also bathed there. Rinsing it smooth, she drew a tepid bath. Wrapping her hair in her towel, she slid into the relaxing bath.  Though she’d like to have soaked awhile, she quickly bathed and shaved her legs before she emptying and scrubbing the tub again with BAB-O.  She powdered and lotioned herself before rinsing her washcloth and towel to take back to her room.  Latching her door, she hung her dress to air and slid under the top sheet.  Maybe she’d be able to nap a while.  No such luck.  She thought of Mama and Daddy and felt a hollow feeling in  her gut. They were probably resting before going back out to the garden to pick tomatoes.  She dreaded telling them she’d gotten married with our their blessing, but they’d surely understand when they met Bill.  He was so charming and had such a way with people.  He was going to work construction and they’d  travel all over the country.  That was one of the things that made her fall in love with him.  For a girl raised in hicky old Cuthand, it sounded like a dream.  Having never been farther than Texarkana, she’d always yearned to escape. Bill was talking about going to California after this job. It couldn’t be soon enough for her.

Boarding House

  Sn

Bumps in the Road Part 9

After the wedding, they moved into the boarding house in the little community of Box Elder, not far from Clarksville. Bill’s construction crew also had rooms there. They had the biggest room on the second floor and took their meals in the dining room. Kathleen was shy of eating in front of Bill, so she barely touched her food. The landlady provided the men with a brown bag lunch. Bill left before six every morning and got home past dark. The men didn’t get a day off unless it rained, so Bill wasn’t around a lot.

Bill didn’t want her to work, so she gave up her waitress job and had time on her hands. Luckily, the house was on the bus route, so Kathleen could go into town when she wished. She’d visit Annie and the two would stroll around town and lunch at the cafe. Kathleen had spent her meager earnings after a couple of weeks. Then her period was due. Blushing, she asked, “Bill, can I get a little money? I need money for the bus and a couple of things from town.”

He was in a hurry. “I get paid tomorrow. I’ll be off Saturday. I’ll take you then. You don’t need to go into town all the time.”

Mortified, she had to explain. “I can’t wait. You know women need personal items once a a month. I have to go to the store today.”

Reddening, it was his turn to be embarrassed. “Uh, okay.” He dug some bills out of his pocket. “I have a five and two ones.” He held the ones out to her. Seeing her face fall, he put the ones back in his wallet and gave her the five. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” He kissed her goodbye and headed off to work.

Kathleen prettied herself up and caught the bus into town. Meeting Annie, they strolled around the square, stopping at the Rexall for her pads. She chose a bright red lipstick and a tiny bottle of Evening in Paris perfume so she’d look and smell pretty for Bill.

“Do you want to get a bite at the cafe?” Annie asked. “I have to go get ready for work at two.”

Kathleen counted her money. She had $1.76 left. Lunch and bus fare would finish off the five Bill had given her. “Maybe I’d better not spend all my money.”

“Okay, we’ll go to my room and make a fried egg sandwich in my room,” replied Annie.

They hurried to Annie’s room and made fried egg sandwiches on Annie’s hot plate. It was a good day. Kathleen loved being with Annie and looked forward to getting home to her handsome husband.

Kathleen Carries On Part 5 or Don’t Give Me Any Lip

As we made our way through the rutted trails of the wildlife park, Mother held the requisite cup of pellets. A camel loped over, pushing his head in the window. Mother was terrified, so she clutched his prize tightly to her bosoms. Denial only made him more persistent. He shoved harder, his big floppy lips trying to rip the cup from her grip. It finally occurred to her to release her death grip on the cup so he pulled it away. Squealing, she started raising the window but not before another camel had almost gotten his head in the window. As my brother-in-law speeded up a bit to get away from the demands of the camels, Mother called out gleefully, “Look at that stupid camel chasing us!” Of course he was. Mother had trapped his lip in the window.

Best of Health

My dad enjoyed excellent health but enjoyed his maladies even more.  Upon hearing a doctor or hospital recommendation, he obsessed until he found a reason for a visit.  He was admitted at least yearly as long as I can remember, for reasons ranging from a tonsillectomy to ingrown toenail removal.  He couldn’t wait for Mother to get out of the hospital after the Cesarean birth of her fifth baby, leaving her at home with five children ranging from newborn, seventeen month old, six, ten, and thirteen year olds.    The theory was the big girls could take care of thing.  Ha!  His problem, a cystic acne lesion on his shoulder that had been there for years.  He just needed a bit of “me” time I suspect.

His entire family loved doctoring. They compared doctors and medicines every time they got together. It wasn’t unusual for them to try the others medication. I had one Uncle who’d finish up any medication, even his wife’s hormones. I”I paid good money for that medercine(that’s how he pronounced it) an’ I ain’t ‘bout to waste it.

They also liked to have weigh-ins. The skinniest would drag out the bathroom scales and throw out the challenge. Let’s see how much_________ weighs! The rare trim one amongst them would happily hop on. The “healthier,”that means fatter in this instance would likely be badgered till they gave in. Fat Shaming! What a fun game!

Kids in Cars

I’m sitting in the shade at the grocery store waiting for Mother to finish her shopping. I take her once a week. I finish mine in about 30 minutes, then pick her up at the door when she calls me. It’s 93 right now. As a kid, I remember it being far hotter ,when we waited in the car. Mother let us go in grocery store with her, once we were sufficiently threatened. We always got a box of animal crackers to munch while she shopped, presumably to keep our hands and mouths occupied.

In the parking lot, we smugly passed cars full of hot, fighting kids on our way in. Sometimes, we had to sit in the car if she had kid-free business like banking or bill-paying. What I thought was two hours, Mother called fifteen minutes. The truth lay somewhere between, but I’ll never admit it to her. We started fighting the minute she was out of earshot and lapsed into virtuous behavior as soon as we saw her coming back. Initially, there were threats of “I’m telling,” but usually by the time Mother got back, we’d all have passed enough licks no one could risk tattling. Mother always accused us of acting like heathens. I wonder if heathen mothers accused their children of acting like Christians?

For those of you who weren’t raised in Sunday School, Heathen is a dated term used primarily of someone who is not religious, or whose religion is not Judaism, Islam, or especially Christianity. In our case, it was a disparaging term used disapprovingly to describe one (me)who is not cultured; this use is also dated. Forgive me. I am sure this is not politically correct, but I was lead to believe I frequently acted “like a heathen.” I feel sure most heathen were much more well- behaved.

For the love of God, don’t leave your kid in the car!