history – Page 6 – Camellia's Cottage

Posted on September 9, 2016September 10, 2016 by Camellia's Cottage · 4 Comments

Southern Trees…

Southern women are sensitive about Southern Trees. We’ve been known to tell architects they cannot add onto that side of the house because, well- it would mean cutting down a beloved tree. Against all advice to contrary, Southern women have said a tree cannot be cut down- ‘ Just build the porch around it, and you better make sure the opening in the floorboards are big enough for that tree to grow!’ Perfectly reasonable to me. Selling property in the South? The best selling points for Southern Real Estate are:

Double Wide Mobile Home with nice wooded lot
Lake House with great views of the lake and nice wooded lot.
Farm has pasture land and nice wooded area surrounding the farmhouse.

If the wooded lot you’re selling has a Magnolia Tree on it, that ups the value of the property immensely. We Southern ladies don’t talk about it much – but there are women who fiercely protect their Magnolia Trees. The pitiful women who don’t have Magnolia Trees have been known to beg, borrow or steal Magnolia Leaves especially during the holidays or for special occasions– a wedding, funeral or open house. The lucky women who own Magnolia Trees have been known to get put out and even stingy with their Magnolia leaves!

I guess you could say- we’re tree proud. I made a list recently of the different types of Southern Trees we have in our yard. Dogwoods, Redbuds, Glory Bower, Red Oak, White Oak, Pin Oak, Water Oak,Hackberry, Sweetgum, Poplar, Elm and Black Walnut- Southern Yellow Pines and the darkly mysterious common Cedar Tree. My grandmother always said to get rid of Cedar Trees because ‘When a cedar tree gets tall enough to shade your grave, you’ll die’…How she knew this I’ll never know- but I believed her. My husband thinks that’s an old wives tale but he did remove a Cedar Tree because it was getting in the way of a Dogwood I wanted him to save. Bless his heart. _DSC0360-1

South Alabama has the big bearded beauties, Live Oaks- Southerners have been known to experience deep grief, especially when a Live Oak is damaged or dies. Live Oaks are the stuff movies are made of- the story has been told that a famous actress came south to do a movie and the setting was laced with Live Oaks- it was rumored the actress thought we did that just for her! We have renowned hospitality, but humans didn’t do that for her- the South is just blessed with Live Oaks dripping with Spanish Moss.

What we don’t tell folks who aren’t from around here- If you want to collect Spanish moss as a souvenir- before you get home you’ll have chigger bites all over! Henry Ford once had the bright idea to stuff his car cushions with the abundance of Spanish Moss found in Alabama- only to discover those pesky chiggers were a big problem. For Southern folks who are still looking up North for their valuables…they think chigger bites are a fitting punishment for thieves who try to confiscate our Spanish Moss!

Southern women are more apt to forgive our Trees of their shortcomings than we are of other infractions that come our way. We never forgive Hurricanes- male or female- for taking down our Southern Trees. Frederick, Rita, Ivan, and that hateful girl Katrina, we will never forgive you.

Yet if our Southern Tree roots break up a driveway or a sidewalk, well- ancestors have been known to break up and make things interesting too. It’s part of who we are- our roots are important. We make the necessary adjustments. If a tree grows crooked, lays an arm on the grass or we have to make a path skirt around a family tree- that’s what you do for your folks. You make allowances, you put up with a bit of a mess- pesky squirrels, tassles, colorful fallen leaves, prickly cones, burrs and bonafide Nuts. Southern Trees are like eccentric relatives, colorful kinfolks and outright Nuts- they’re the stuff our legends are made of

Some trees are clannish–

Pines stand together swaying and whispering
Dogwoods clump together in their lacy dresses like Sorority Girls
Redbuds circle up- conspiring to bloom where they are planted. Stubborn enough to bloom for just a brief few weeks in the Spring.

We love our trees. Southern trees bloom, Shade us from the hot summer sunshine, Spread their branches to cradle nests while the squirrels are acting like nuts. Hickory trees give their lives so we can have that pit barbeque we so love. Trees let us hang a swing or spread out quilts for a snooze, a picnic or a family photograph. We’re as tree proud as any folks I know. Our roots spread out and run deep. We like it that way, nuts, squirrels, skeeters, chiggers and all.

Love y’all, Camellia

Thanks to Jeremy Miniard for the photographs of beautiful homeplaces in Alabama. Thanks to Denis for her photographs of the hauntingly beautiful Live Oaks.

Posted on September 5, 2016September 6, 2016 by Camellia's Cottage · 37 Comments

Dyin’ in the South…

100_year_old_Rusted_Casket_300_rental_146

The late great Pat Conroy, wrote a cookbook that is one of my all time favorites- he has one chapter called ‘Why Dying Down South is More Fun’. In my collection of local, state and regional cookbooks- they don’t come right out and have chapters devoted to funeral food– but if you’re from the South- well…let’s just say we know that the cooks who offer the submissions have gotten a whole lot of compliments on the dishes they took to comfort those who mourn. We also know which ones don’t comfort- they afflict. You don’t take hot spicy foods like Pit Barbeque- which might conjure up the image of ‘hellfire and damnation’-though the grieving family will graciously accept any and all offerings in the spirit in which they are given. Pat Conroy makes note that when anyone dies in the South, ‘the pigs get nervous’– I would add – ‘the chickens get nervous and stop layin’. Fried chicken shows how much you care, stuffed eggs are always welcome and a baked ham feeds a crowd. Stuffed Eggs are the appropriate term for funeral food– no one in his right mind would dare called them ‘Devilled Eggs’. We prize stuffed eggs so much we have plates with little egg shaped indentions passed down from one generation to the next, I have my grandmother’s white egg plate. 2016-03-23 11.07.00 Women have Pyrex dishes with their names inked on masking tape for Dinner on the Ground, Memorial Day and holidays but mostly for funeral food. These glass dishes might be ensconced in a silver holder with little legs or just plain glass- but all are filled with concoctions to die for- they’re so divine. You can count on hearing- ‘Has anyone seen my 9×12 Pyrex dish?’ in the days and weeks to follow a funeral.

In the South, when you don’t know what to say- taking comfort food is the very best thing to do. We hope after the funeral, folks will eat as good or better than at Thanksgiving or Christmas- we don’t want anyone to worry about what to eat, when they are struggling. casseroles-campbells

I try to keep a Bereavement Pound Cake in the freezer- my pound cakes freeze very well due to the high fat content and being wrapped tightly. I’ve never kept one frozen for very long-to have a Pound Cake on hand has truly been a lifesaver…well, a life might have been lost but a ham, a casserole or a pound cake- is comforting, goes a long way and can feed the multitudes. 2015-12-21 11.08.39

Mostly teetotalers-we don’t talk about it very much, but we do value the medicinal numbing qualities of strong drink– we might nurse it, we just don’t advertise it. The South has produced the finest beverages in the world- Sweet Tea, Co-Cola, Bourbon, Jack Daniels, Muscadine Wine; even Rum, all of which do bring a nip of comfort to afflicted mourners.

We once attended a memorial service for a local Historian whose specialty was the War between the States. This man wanted his service to be authentic-held in a historic home he knew was being restored. The Committee decided unanimously not to restore the bullet-riddled transom over the door from a little skirmish during the war-ah. The house was opened to honor this man. The Honor Guard was in full regalia worn for ‘re-enactments’ – which to be honest, are exercises in futility since we’re never gonna pull this thing out, but the men seem to enjoy it. The revered Historian wanted to be cremated and his ashes strewn on the closest battlefield- which caused a bit of an rippit from some of the older set, who still think six feet under Alabama Marble is the most dignified way to go. old tombstone- aol images The Historian’s service was planned down to a tee, the house was spruced up and the wide foyer was set with folding chairs facing a flag draped altar with the urn on top– all ready for the next day. One of the men brought in the big punch bowl to sit on the sideboard- he had obtained the old recipe from 1786 for Chatham Artillery Punch. It has to preserve for two days! The night before, he offered some of it as solace for the men who had to get things ready for the Historian. The ladies had bought ginger ale to substitute for that whole case of champagne. It was hot and humid- some of the men thought they would have a toast to their fallen. No one thought the bugle playin’ brother was in such bad shape- he got punch drunk. The day of the service, the ladies like to have died when they found out Brother wasn’t able to play ‘Taps’– some even fumed they were going to kill the whole regiment! vintage silver punch bowl

One of the revelers brought in a boom box instead of the bugle; the Honor Guard decided that despite the events of the night before- the Historian rightly deserved the whole case of champagne instead of the ginger ale-and unapologetically handed the widow an icy cup of punch to settle her nerves. During the service the widow slowly slid off the horsehair sofa onto the oriental rug. The Chaplin finished up his rather long eulogy. The Honor Guard stood at attention as the static-y ‘Taps’ blared; they filed somberly out of the foyer onto the grounds, while someone discreetly re-seated the grieving widow. Outside, instead of a synchronized 21 gun salute- it sounded like a bunch of firecrackers going off as the antique guns fired away. The mourners were glad they stayed inside and actually lived to die another day.

Now, like all good Southern stories, this one is part myth, part truth and part outright lies– however, to show good faith…If you will be careful when and how you use it- here is the recipe for Chatham Artillery Punch, from the Savannah River House which will no doubt resurface again.

However, I would like to make this perfectly clear- Southern Ladies are taught it is coarse and common to drink, chug or slurp. A true lady sips. Coffee, water, tea or something to numb the pain…a lady always holds cups, glasses or plates in a delicate hand with the elbow at the waistline; and honestly sliding off a sofa is just not done under normal circumstances.

Oh Law, I hope you don’t die laughing, but if you do? Please come South, we’ll take care of you.

Love y’all, Camellia

Find Pat Conroy’s Cookbook on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other major booksellers!

Casket photo is from http://www.bjwinslow.com Other images are either mine or from AOL images, please advise if any copyright applies.

Posted on September 3, 2016September 12, 2016 by Camellia's Cottage · 12 Comments

Find Your Own Calcutta…

Every day, more than once I read these words: mother teresa

‘Do no great things, only small things with great love.’ Mother Teresa

The year was 1994, in a bone chilling month of February- we made our way to Washington DC. As the taxi drove us from the airport past the Potomac, the water was not flowing, it was filled with boulder chunks of ice. We were there to attend the National Prayer Breakfast at the invitation of our congressman, Glen Browder. Alabama was the host state for the Prayer Breakfast. We were going to be eyewitnesses to this remarkable event. And while this was an amazing invitation- we had also decided to make it a religious pilgrimage of sorts. We visited the landmark New York Avenue Presbyterian Church where Chaplin of the U.S. Senate, Dr. Peter Marshall, delivered heartrendingly beautiful sermons and prayers, during World War II and beyond. This is a very historical church just 4 blocks from the White House, where more than eight U.S. presidents, cabinet members, congressmen and justices of the Supreme Court worshipped- beginning with John Quincy Adams. Abraham Lincoln attended services there during the War. His famous Gettysburg Address had coined the phrase ‘One Nation under God’ -more than 80 years later, Lincoln’s address inspired Scottish born Peter Marshall’s sermon ‘A New Birth of Freedom’, which he delivered on another freezing February day. That sermon inspired Dwight Eisenhower and others to amend the Pledge of Allegiance adding Lincoln’s phrase. Martin Luther King Jr. would later give an impassioned address in this same church. And long after we had come home- this church provided prayer and comfort to the capitol city after 9/11. new-york-avenue-presbyterian-church

We were taken by an official bus and dropped off very close to the presidential motorcade, parked exactly where President Reagan had been shot a few years before. Ushered in and seated on the front row at table four in a huge ballroom, the room was packed. The security was tight. We listened in rapt attention at the amazing Tuskegee Choir from Alabama. We could not believe we were there, much less on the front row- eyewitnesses to history, why, we were in the presence of national leaders in our nation’s capitol city, along with citizens just like ourselves, however- seated at our table were two missionaries from Japan. When I asked them where their missionary field was- these lovely Asian people said- ‘We believe that the people of the United States need to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ’…To this day, I am moved by the profound love and kindness in that simple statement.

What must folks from foreign countries think of the American people? From the news media to print to music to lifestyle- what conclusion would a person who is not from the United States draw from all of the disagreeable messages we send out across this globe?

The keynote speaker at the 1994 National Prayer Breakfast was Mother Teresa of the Sisters of Charity in Calcutta. The speech was very long- the news media drew from her profound words a few statements and conclusions– when actually Mother Teresa had so very much more to say than what the headlines distilled and became politically charged rhetoric.

I was there, I can tell you firsthand that this tiny woman, Mother Teresa was a mesmerizing figure. A two step high platform was placed behind the podium and still her head could barely be seen from our tables on the front row. On our tables, along with the program was a bookmark with her words on them- I won’t quote them verbatim due to length- however, I recall being enlightened to the point I am still moved to tears whenever I think of them- Mother Teresa’s words were-

When you see the poor and pitiful
When you see the maimed or mental
When you see the rejected and despised
When you see the orphaned or sick
When you see the hungry or the homeless…
Look into their eyes- ‘You are looking into the Eyes of Jesus’

‘When I was hungry you fed me, when I was thirsty you gave me drink…when you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto Me.’

from Matthew 25:35

Mother Teresa’s ministry was among the ‘poorest of the poor’ in the streets of Calcutta, India The Sisters of Charity literally feed, clothe, pick worms and vermin off the heads of the poor- they clean their stricken bodies, clothe them and put them in clean beds, give them meager bowls of rice or broth; and often hold a quiet vigil as the least of humanity die in the comfort of a clean bed. The Sisters of Charity know they are looking into the Eyes of Jesus.

The ballroom that freezing winter day, was hushed into a reverent silence as she spoke unforgettable words. We had no idea that this tiny remarkable person would walk this earth only a few more years.Later I read that a nun in New York City begged to come work in Calcutta alongside the Sisters of Charity. Mother Teresa said-

‘Find your own Calcutta. Find the sick, the suffering and the lonely right where you are.’

That is what we all must do, beginning in our homes, spreading out into our communities, unto those who are outcasts.. even unto the ends of the earth, we must look at a suffering world and see the Eyes of Jesus. interpreted from Mark 16:15

Find your own Calcutta. Look for the Eyes of Jesus. The world is watching.

Love y’all, Camellia

photographs from AOL images, except the bottom one from the wonderful book- ‘Come and See’ by Linda Schaeffer- which we edited.

Posted on September 1, 2016September 28, 2020 by Camellia's Cottage · 49 Comments

Instinct or Fitness…

I’m just going to admit it- I’m uncoordinated. I will never be good at sports or exercising. Never have been, do not aspire to it. First of all, going to a gym without at least some color on my face- blush or lipstick -would be sort of horrifying for me. I would hate to inflict that on anyone. I no longer buy swimsuits. I still call them bathing suits-I do not wear bathing suits so as not to inflict my aging body on the general public. I can wear a cute cover up and have a fine old time.

The last time I tried exercising in a group publically was in an aerobics class at my church at least 30 years ago- it was a disaster– no really, I am not kidding. The building had indoor/outdoor carpeting. I had on a cute new outfit with socks and tennis shoes. I stood on the back row of a class of 30 women, just in case. I could not get the steps right, I could not shift several steps to the right and hop, flailing my arms around in the air at the same time. I hopped-scooted over…my tennis shoe caught on the indoor outdoor carpet– I stumbled backwards, trying not to hurt anyone or break their rhythm and ended up flinging myself into a whole wall of metal folding chairs. It was not pretty, it was loud with all of those chairs falling like steel dominoes. The acoustics in that room are pretty good… let’s just say this was not a joyful noise unto the Lord. women exercising dailymail.uk

I have tried to explain being uncoordinated for years- especially when folks tell me about steps and swings and all manner of fitness routines. I cannot risk it. I’m not proud of this. I have tried walking on a tread mill more than once and more than once have managed to trip and skid off, machine still rolling. women on treadmills vintage

My husband, a person of considerable athletic skill, has known and accepted my uncoordinated style; since as newlyweds he let me go with him on a run…when we got back he said-

‘How ’bout letting me run by myself from now on?‘
‘Why?’
‘Well your feet flap on the pavement.’ Enough said.

I signed up for golf lessons many years ago…the instructor told me at the end of the first lesson- ‘Ma’am, golf just isn’t your game.’ He didn’t offer to return my money…I didn’t ask either. vintage woman golfing

I really accepted my ineptness early on…when I was in college I was required to have a certain amount of physical education.

I took tennis.
I knew the rules, I aced the written tests.
When my grade came out, it was a glaring ‘B’ –
I asked the instructor why he had given me a B-
Graciously he said, ‘You don’t have the Killer Instinct.’

Most Southern folks start planning their funerals when they are in their 40’s if not before…Please believe me, I know this- we have a morbid fascination with the process. It could be argued that dyin’ is more fascinating in the South. When I want my husband to listen to anything I am saying – I just have to say- ‘When I die…’ or ‘I want this played at my funeral.’ He listens up.

Recently I was contemplating an extra roll of fat I had found- it’s none of your business where I found it-I was thinking maybe I should give fitness another chance. I’ve got some important tests coming up- my cholesterol screening and BMI. I thought of all the personal risks involved. To exercise is risky for me. I have decided that having-

Beloved Wife and Mother

She Never had the Killer Instinct

Carved on my tombstone-is sounding better and better all the time. old tombstone- aol images

Meanwhile, before I start pushing up daisies- I’m keeping close to the ground and digging in my garden…

Love y’all, Camellia

The photograph of the tennis player and the swimmer are from a vintage encyclopedia- called The New Wonder World- last copyright- 1941 by Geo. L. Shuman and Co.

The women on treadmills- attributed to an article by Huffingon Post

The golfer, the group photograph of women exercising and the tombstone from AOL images and may be subject to copyright.

Posted on August 29, 2016January 12, 2017 by Camellia's Cottage · 13 Comments

Foundations…

There was a time when language was carefully and kindly spoken- where even women’s undergarments were called foundations. The vintage photograph shows women of all shapes and sizes beautifully. Women who were statuesque were admired. I personally think that Margaret Mitchell contributed to this admiration when she had Scarlett say- ‘I’ll never go hungry again!’ The great equalizer after the War between the States was that all Southerners were poor. Struggling through Reconstruction, some held on to their dignity, some got just plain mean, some had never known anything else but being poor- scraping out a living from red clay soil, while the Yankees were in the process of re-building us. Scarlett O’Hara decided to work with the Carpetbaggers, Scalawags and Yankees, and like it or not- she did succeed in never being hungry again. Southerners developed a distaste for Yankees. My grandmother said it best- ‘I know why Yankees are so harsh- they’re cold all the time and they don’t eat right’. And actually the South does have better food, that’s probably why we struggle with Obesity. I mean when you fry a whole lot of stuff like:

Green Tomatoes
Chicken
Catfish and Okra

Well you get the picture. Fried food made inexpensive food just tastes better.

Just when the economy was getting better- 64 years after the war had torn us apart…the Great Depression knocked a whole lot of folks back down. Many in Alabama had always been poor, now it was worse. I recall asking my husband’s grandmother one time- ‘Is she poor?’ and she answered – ‘Oh yes honey, she’s real skinny’. Grandmamas was a tall, statuesque woman who wore hats and probably knew a thing or two about folks going hungry. And she fed more than a few folks all the years I knew her.I completely adored her! Our older daughter is named for her. A big part of the foundation of her life was to make sure her table was laden with food, the extra produce was canned and preserved. And while she was a ‘true daughter’ of the confederacy- I never detected the least bit of mean-spirited nonsense in Grandmamas at all toward anyone, I never heard a slang term used by her or about anyone. I wrote in my journal- ‘When Grandmamas hugs me, it is like sinking into a feather bed.’ She was ample, she was generous, she was bighearted. She wrote me five page letters that she called ‘newspapers’, giving me all of the latest triumphs and tragedies from family, friends and community. It is well known in the South- that

Pyrex dishes were filled to the brim- taken to new mothers, sick folks, church picnics and to the bereaved- why, a glass sea of Pyrex dishes could be seen anywhere you went!
Roasting pans produced large Hens, Roasts or Hams
Iron skillets put forth the sustenance of Southern Life, Fried Chicken or Cornbread
Canning jars not only got people through the long winter but added an extra bit of flavor with pepper sauce, jams and jellies, pickled peaches or cucumbers. These were the tools they used to sustain us throughout our lives.

The foundation Grandmamas laid- of tables laden with food- was passed down to her daughters. My mother in law was known for baking a Coconut Cake for anyone who just mentioned loving her cake! She once made dozens of fried pies for the entire JSU Marching Southerners Band Dorm, when our daughters were there! That’s bighearted, abundance! The words- full-bodied, lush or abundant when applied to wines, gardens or buffet tables give the most pleasant mental images. When applied to a woman’s statuesque full figure, not as much. And that’s a shame – there are days when I would love to receive a hug that felt like I was ‘sinking into a feather bed’. Our Grandmothers were of a genteel generous generation who spoke kindly and made sure that no one, no matter who they were- left their homes empty handed.

Now, I’ve gotten all historical on you because it occurred to me that the Foundation of Southern Food is Big Hearted, Generous and Abundant. And while I applaud the efforts to eat healthy- we can’t deny that much of the move back to all natural fresh food– is not new- it is just newly discovered. Homegrown fresh food was all we had just a couple of generations ago- at least where I come from!

Chicken, Casseroles, Shrimp, Grits, Cornbread and Pound Cake are all big hearted and generous- all make up the Foundation for great Southern meals. Just plain wonderful as they are- still Chicken, Shrimp, Casseroles, Grits, Cornbread and Pound Cakes accept other ingredients graciously. I’ll leave it for another day to expound on these wonderful combinations.

Since I’m being nostalgic today-I recall when ladies and gentlemen spoke with genteel courteous language. The foundation of their lives was rich in the traditions of good manners, speaking well and good regardless of poverty or wealth. Rough, coarse and common talk is the stuff of honky tonks. Language that separates, tears down or degrades is worthless to society. Perhaps we could blend diverse ingredients into polite disagreements and dignified conversations, like a good spicy Gumbo or a comforting Casserole.. I long for it truly.

Love y’all, Camellia

Image of vintage women in foundations- from a wonderful site- http://www.fortieswardrobe.blogspot.com Images of chickens, casserole and shrimp are from AOL images and may be subject to copyright. Image of Grandmamas, kitchen implements, the cornbread, pound cake and grits are from our personal collection.

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