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Mr. Guitar…

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I’m blogging ‘live’ from The CAAS- in Nashville, Tennessee! We’ve been Chet Atkins fans for many years- the smoothest, most talented guitar picker, possibly the world has even known- at least in the country music industry. It is being held at the Music City Sheraton, I have probably seen only 5-6 cars unloaded which do not have guitars! There are 1000 people in attendance for four days of non-stop picking! They call themselves either ‘fingerstyle’ pickers or ‘thumbpickers’– which are styles Chet Atkins made popular. The sessions start at 9 a.m. and go until midnite- without stopping! At any moment- guitarists may start playing, in hallways or stages or meeting rooms! Some are amateur, of course but others are recording artists- who either played with Chet Atkins or recorded with him or that Chet Atkins produced their sounds with RCA. And the folks who attend are not locals, they have come from as far as Australia, Great Britain, Eastern Europe and Asia. There are workshops, collaborations, lectures and of course performances. Gretsch Guitars has a wonderful room, where a team is on hand to sell, adjust or repair and answer questions. Chet Atkins made several guitars famous, but his ‘Country Gentleman Guitar in Gretsch Orange’…is wildly popular to this day.

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You can see Gretsch Orange below and between the black and white Gretsch guitars– I don’t know all of the names- but I do know the ‘White Falcon’ is also very famous. Wallace Guitars has a presence here as do other guitar makers- there is even a prototype of a Gretsch guitar, that is said to be worth over $75,000- you can still see the marks on it where Chet had them make modifications; along with other vintage guitars.

Chet Atkins, also known as ‘Mr. Guitar’, died about 15 years ago- however, one of the highlights for me- was watching Meagan Taylor perform- Chet Atkins was her great uncle and the family resemblance and talent is uncanny. Chet usually told an ‘old corny joke’ when he performed; these live performers are keeping that tradition alive. Now, I am going to share a few of them, but don’t leave Camellia’s Cottage without listening to the song that made Chet Atkins famous… ‘Mr. Sandman’. One of my personal favorites! *at the end of the post.

Here’s two of the corny jokes- One performer said he grew up ‘pore‘ like Chet, but that farmers in his hometown are getting more prosperous now- he told of a farmer that had saved enough to buy one of those fancy tractors- the salesman said- ‘It’ll cut your work in half’– the old farmer said, ‘Well, then…I’ll just take two of ’em’…. Another said when he first started out as a guitar picker, he would play wherever he could, whenever he got the chance- one night he was playing a club and he was real nervous. He ran to the men’s room before he went onstage. When he got on stage he began playing a few tunes but the audience was not even listening, much less clapping…so he opened it up for requests. He saw a man near the stage writing fast and furiously, the waitress handed the guitarist the paper- he hoped he knew the requested song…The paper said – ‘Do you know- Your Fly is Open?’ Nervously, he said ‘No sir, I don’t know that song!’ So, instead he played a familiar Chet Atkins tune… This time he got some applause…he leaned over low and took a bow. Emboldened by the applause, he stood and continued to play another Chet tune…the same man at the same table was writing out another ‘request’… Now, the guitarist was really worried…another tune he didn’t know?? He took the paper from the waitress- this time- not one but two songs on it…the paper read-

‘Your Barn Door is Open!’ and ‘The Horse has Gotten Out of the Barn!‘??

The guitarist paused and  said, ‘Where do people come up with these songs?’

Oh lordie, we laughed and laughed…Love y’all, Camellia

 

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Funny Habits…

Today is my mother’s birthday-you’re not supposed to tell a lady’s age but she was  born in 1929, the year of the Great Depression. Her name is Betty Gene– after Dora Eugenia Holmes, my great-grandmother that suffered from melancholia and my grandmother, Betty Jo, who was one of the funniest women I’ve ever known, not to mention a formidable cook and housekeeper. Mother was a darling child- green eyes, one a shade darker than the other with light brown curly hair. She’s had a dramatic flair ever since she was entered into a ‘Shirley Temple Lookalike Contest’ and actually won 5 Shirley Temple Dresses! Mother is funny- she inherited the funny bone from both of her parents, yet I would say her humor is very much like my granddaddy’s. The truth is, we all like to laugh. This is Mother with one of her granddaughters and my beautiful and funny sister. Aren’t they darling?IMG_0660

A few years ago, for a Christmas party- we got up the program, as we like to say…That year, my husband agreed to play select tunes on his guitar and as a surprise for the guests, we planned to dress up in some sort of costumes. We  knew the leader of a local drama club who would loan us some costumes. Turns out all she had were the nun’s outfits or habits from a play she directed- ‘Sister Act’– which was widely acclaimed here in town then resulted in a special performance at the Ritz Theatre. Our long tall brunette friend Vandella, who can sing like an angel with a blue dress on- wanted to sing back up for my husband. She recruited me to join her. Vandella said we would be his backup singers called- the ‘Two Bad Habits’. We had a big laugh over that one, since his personality is like Andy Griffith-he just doesn’t look like him. IMG_0596

Unbeknownst to us, two other Bad Habits would be joining us, live and in costume. While the guests were milling around the buffet table and swinging around the punch bowl, one of the hostesses was gathering everyone up for the entertainment. They had been told to be prepared for some Chet Atkins style Christmas carols with a reading of the Christmas story at the end if someone would volunteer. Softly the guitar music began to play- ooh’s and aah’s all around…Vandella and I were hovering in the wings waiting for our dramatic  entrance. Vandella was saying- ‘You go first Camellia and I said ‘no’.  When our musical cue, ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’, started up- we walked out- to quite a good reception, I have to say. We announced ourselves as the Two Bad Habits, then rocked around the room in our nun’s habits… Vandella can carry off almost any style because of her height- I looked like one of the Von Trapp nuns…not the cute ones either. Vandella could put Patsy Cline in the shade. We did another number and right in the middle of the tune, a third Bad Habit eased out- this time it was funny ol’ Will aka Mother Superior Willa Deen– who continued rocking on with us- to bursts of laughter.

The guitarist was in full mode- barely paying attention to anything except his music; though when he heard a commotion behind him- he turned, didn’t miss a note, just raised an expressive eyebrow and nodded at the New Bad Habit, Mother Superior Willa Deen in horn rimmed glasses, singing and shaking the mistletoe in the rafters, off key. Howard, an ex of Vandella’s had been circling the eggnog bowl one time too many, though we now think he had arrived slightly imbibed, but hey it was Christmas! Howard joined the music- just about the time another Bad Habit came out dressed as a novice in all white- I looked around and it was my. Mother. !!! Looking as innocent as a jaybird.

She had her hands stuffed in the middle section of the novice outfit. Mother Willa Deen cleared his throat and said ‘Now, before we sing ‘Away in a Manger’- I’d like to introduce a new member of the Abbey, Sister Magdelena…she came to us in a time of great need.’ He turned to my elderly Mother. She bowed her head and said- ‘I’m so thankful they’ve let me in…I’m pregnant.’; she pulled her hands out of her habit and made like she was rocking an invisible baby.

Vandella and I missed more than a beat…we missed whole chords! The crowd was laughing and my Mother was beaming like one of the angels on high. Right up there with Howard, high as a kite by now, from that weak eggnog I guess.  Mother stole the show! Unforgettable…

On into the summer- we planned another, more sedate gathering… loads of people were there. We were all going to be on our best behavior. Even Vandella’s  ex-Howard,  arrived in a starched suit and tie. Over by the peach and apple fried pies, Alabama home grown figs and cheeses, tea sandwiches fit for a king-Howard sidled up to Mother. She greeted him in her own gracious manner- so sweetly, so lightly, saying ‘Now, do I know you?‘ Howard had  a bad habit of falling in love with the wrong women, and he had fallen in love with my mother at the Christmas party….he said ‘You don’t recognize me do you?’ looking crest fallen. Someone said ‘Now, Betty, you remember Howard- from the Christmas party don’t you?’ I was unaware this was transpiring- all the way in another room. I heard an outburst of laughter…Vandella came around and said ‘Your mother is a hoot! She just said, Howard, I  guess I didn’t recognize you, sober!’ Oh lordie… what would she think of next?? Mother went on to do a bit part in a commercial, she marched across a field of hay with her pocketbook.

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We’re all thrilled she’s doing very well after hip surgery in the winter, a short bout with anemia recently, but has bounced back and says she can’t believe how good she feels! She has a habit of being cheerful and getting into some ridiculous situations too! So- to honor my beautiful and very humorous Southern Mother’s Birthday- please- share a link to a funny post you have written or a photograph you think she’d love– for Make Me Laugh Monday! I promise I’ll share them with the birthday girl!

Love y’all, Camellia

*post your links in the comment section! thanks!

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Sweet Tea…

Southern LivingKeep It Sweet

Every now and then, Sweet Tea just gets to me…at a picnic earlier this summer- I drank at least three big red Dixie cups full of it- then took a big blue Dixie cup home with me- to help me cool off in the car on the way home… I had the cup swathed in a paper napkin, to catch the drips.  It’s been so hot, I rubbed my neck with the cool damp napkin- probably had sweat beads on it.  Then, I put that blue Dixie cup on my forehead and turned the air vent full blast on me to cool me off…Picnics are fun, but hard work- fanning flies, setting out pans of food, making sure a trail of ants doesn’t wind it’s way over to the Key Lime Pie or up the side of the Coconut Cake. I thought about that beautiful teething baby running a low grade fever, her daddy was in bed with vertigo and hoped they’d be alright… Anyway, about the Sweet Tea- it put me in mind of when I first learned how to make it and of another time when I learned to fully appreciate the Romance of making Sweet Tea. There have always been controversies over Southern Iced Tea making. Whether to use bagged Tea, so as not to have to strain it- or to use loose Tea Leaves so as not to have any of that lingering paper taste from tea bags; whether to use Lipton, Red Diamond or Luzianne. My grandmother preferred Luzianne, some said it was of her French Huguenot  side-saddle-horse-riding Momma– my great grandmother, Hattie LaVada Sparks.

Hattie LaVada never cast a shadow in her own kitchen; I’ve been told her husband and double first cousin, John Thomas Sparks spoiled her to death, most especially with Good Household Help; the cooks taught my Mimi how to make Biscuits light as a feather, Corn Sticks fit for the King of England, how to wring a chickens neck, then pluck, brine, steam it to perfection- then serve it with southern grown Rice speckled green with fresh Thyme, swimming in Lemon Butter; and of course the making of Sweet Tea. One of my uncles owned an Ice House- so you know we know how to ice it down. Well, you start with a Sugar Syrup. Don’t listen to anyone who ever tells you differently- Sweet Tea isn’t worth drinking if you don’t start with a Sugar Syrup. White Cane sugar, from sugar cane grown in Alabama, then refined is just the start… Make a pitcher of Tea with straight sugar and that sugar just sinks to the bottom of the pitcher and sulks.

  •  Sugar Syrup is the base, you can dress it up by adding
  • Orange Zest if you’re using Orange Pekoe,
  • Lemon Zest if you had Earl Gray- there’s a science to Sugar Syrup.
  • One cup of sugar to one cup of water, heated gently until every single grain of sugar is dissolved. Then you can doctor it up however you want to.
  • I’ve been told that the doctoring of it decided how strong you wanted it to be when it cooled off.
  • Long Island Tea probably was provoked by somebody from the South; though I have no personal first hand knowledge of this concoction.IMG_3186

There are lots of recipes for Southern Sweet Tea but if they don’t start with a sugar syrup? Find another one. I married a man who was raised on sweet tea but prefers ‘unsweet’– like some…he’s a purist. In restaurants all over the South, the waitresses ask ‘Sweet or Unsweet’? I’ll not venture to guess why this is- but I suspect it’s an influx of Yankees. I rarely make Sweet Tea just for myself- yet if I know some of my guests will want it, I make it. I will admit that there is a Fresh Mint Infused Sugar Syrup with my name on it in the refrigerator, and hopefully I’ll have some fancy ice cubes to dress it up! Now, let me tell you how I first observed the ‘Romance’ of Sweet Tea.

I was born in April of 1952, a leap year, after a hard winter. That sentence alone should speak volumes to you. We lived on a Circle in Birmingham, there were nice brick homes all around it. Right at the downward curve in the circle lived Roxanne Roberts. Her daddy was a travelling salesman, her mother looked like Doris Day. Roxanne. a blue eyed blonde looked just like she’d stepped out of a Madame Alexander Box. I had stick straight black hair with pale green eyes- Mimi said my eyes were from the French side of the family- her sister, Great Aunt Trix always peered at me and said to my momma- ‘Gene, isn’t she unusual?’ Every. Single. Time. Trix saw me. I’m getting off on a tangent…

By some quirk of fate, Roxanne liked me- I had a long ponytail, like she did, but Roxanne’s ended in a perfect curl; mine hung as straight as a horse’s tail. She had perfected a walk- sort of like a duck, which resulted in her ponytail swinging from side to side, it was remarkable. Roxanne’s  momma called my momma.  Roxanne wanted me to come over for a Tea Party. With my Tiny Tears doll in tow- which I suspect now, was the draw for Roxanne- we went out to their ‘Florida Room’– complete with louvered pebbled glass and handles that cranked the glass open… A breeze was blowing…

While we were checking out the wonders of Tiny Tears, Roxanne’s momma was in the kitchen right off the Florida Room- making a Sugar Syrup for the Tea. She was barefooted and had on red pedal pushers and a white blouse tied at the waist. She brought our Tea and Cookies out to Roxanne’s Tea Table and poured our Sweet Tea in sweet little juice glasses with a lemon slices and sprigs of mint. Roxanne said her momma always made Two Pitchers, one plain and a special one for her daddy. I had never heard of such luxury.

Mrs.Roberts was fixing his tea while we played. I heard her opening bottles and setting out some glasses, filling the pitcher with ice. She poured herself a long tall glass from Mr. Robert’s pitcher. Stirring it with a long iced teaspoon, she took a generous drink of it-humming to herself. All of the sudden, Mrs. Roberts broke out in song- ‘Summer Time…and the livin’ is easy…’  She paused profoundly, like she was thinking about the song long and hard, took another long sip leaning back- Then, whew! She dipped down and sang even louder…‘Fish! are jumpin’! and the Cotton is High!’ Swinging her head around; smacking her lips, with that perfect shade of red lipstick… My Momma never did that when she made our Iced Tea!  Mr. Roberts came home from out of town. Roxanne hung back- ‘Shh…watch!…’ Mrs. Roberts was swayin’ her hips and singin’- it was actually pretty good. She was no Ella Fitzgerald but Roxanne’s momma had the moves down pat. Mr. Roberts apparently liked it. He picked Mrs. Roberts up by her waist and swung her around and said ‘Honey, I’m just dyin’ for a glass of that sweet tea!’….

It is indelible in my memory- unforgettable.  Roxanne never asked me back for a Tea Party- I strongly suspect it was because she found out I had been impersonating Elvis from age 7 on up to about age 9.  But I sure never forgot there’s a certain Romance to making Sweet Tea.

Oh lord, y’all…what a story! It’s like every other Southern tale …part myth, part truth and part outright lies… Now don’t forget to make yourself a Sugar Syrup, one part sugar to one part water, simmered gently until every sweet grain has melted, pour into a glass pitcher, add the brewed tea and stir…‘Summer Time! And the livin’ is Easy…So hush little baby don’t you cry….’

Love y’all, Camellia

*photograph from Taste of the South and may be subject to copyright- click link at the top of the photograph- it includes recipes for Sweet Tea- don’t forget you’re looking for the ones with Sugar Syrup *photograph of Sweet Tea includes some of those fancy ice cubes I was talking about! photograph is obviously mine

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My Space to Write Among the Ghosts…

“All Southerners are the great-grandchildren of ghosts.”    William Faulkner

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About a week ago, I started a new Word Press Challenge- Everyday Inspiration. Today’s challenge is entitled ‘A Space to Write’- asking me to write about where I write. When I cleared the space a bit to take a photograph, I was struck by William Faulkner’s quote-

‘All Southerners are the great-grandchildren of ghosts.’

I should frame it, because where I write- I have ancestors looking over me- most prominently- my very handsome great grandfather. I never knew him, he died very young. But every time I made a phone call from my grandmother’s house, Granddaddy Holmes was listening, he was hanging beside the phone, in his suit and bowtie and slickened hair.

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His name was Charles Richmond Holmes, a very distinguished name. He doesn’t haunt me too much, but apparently his arm was cut off when he was run over by a train- he bled out and died on a wagon. They left his arm, not sure if it was the right arm or the left arm, but it was placed on his front porch for some reason. I know it sounds like a bad country music song, but my mother swears it happened. His wife, Granny Holmes suffered from attacks of Melancholia, ever afterward.  Mimi said that you could always tell when a spell of Melancholia was coming on…Granny Holmes would sit on the front porch rocking to and fro- reading her Bible out loud, the faster she rocked, the louder she read- the more melancholy she got. So I guess Charles haunted my great grandmother from time to time. I only knew her briefly, she was really ancient- but I do recall her funeral, folks seemed relieved to see her go. But she did leave me as the ‘southern great-grandchild of a ghost’.Any time my sister and I acted up, or anyone acted down or depressed, Mimi would say- ‘you’re acting just like Granny Holmes.’

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Underneath my great grandfather is a collage of pen and ink drawings with the St. Clair County Courthouse in the middle, surrounded by some of the old homes around or near the courthouse. One is a Bed and Breakfast now and was built by a Probate Judge for his bride when he returned from the War Between the States. He had just one foot- the other one was lost in battle. (This wall seems to have an underlying theme of lost appendages.) There are many stories to be told about the homes and how this collage of drawings came into our possession, but I shall leave that for another time. Suffice it to say, my father in law was Judge of Probate for 14 years and my husband succeeded him in office, after a hotly contest primary, runoff and general election, he served for 20 years and is now retired. The two of them are in the very Courthouse immortalized in the ink drawing.

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My father in law had notecards made from the original drawing and we continue to use them for ‘official’ thank you notes, congratulatory or sympathy cards; so that drawing haunts me, knowing how many I need to write in any given day. I also have a great longing to see that courthouse and the surrounding homes more often- but Backbone Mountain and several miles separate me from seeing it on a regular basis. We are one of the few counties in Alabama which have two courthouses, here because of that big mountain at the tail end of the Appalachian Mountains. The courthouse is said to be haunted, I’m sure it is- a hanging took place there I think; that is one of the hauntings…Anyway, our courthouse has been in continuous use longer than any other in the state of Alabama. It has a long and colorful history- St.Clair County is older than the state. Ashville is the county seat; the courthouse does face south as most old southern courthouses do.

Below the drawings, my Grandmother looks straight at me from a handmade bowl. Her expression is very intense-and it should be, since she was seriously funny.  Most southern women love talking about food. She was no exception- she was an exceptional cook. She is my Wisdom and Food Muse, I can still hear her wise, witty comments. For instance sometimes she says to me: ‘Get in that kitchen and see if you can fix something fit to eat.’ She said that, at the end of almost every conversation I ever had with her- before she hung up- ‘I need to see if I can fix us something fit to eat.’  Mimi is her younger self in the photo-she told me that she always thought she was 18 years old until she looked in the mirror. Next to the bowl with Mimi in it, there is an iron cross which always inspires but particularly on Saturday nights or Sunday mornings when I write my ‘Sunday Inspiration’ posts and was my constant companion as I wrote the four year Bible study which led to the publication of my book, ‘Four Days- the Lazarus Principle’–image

My author’s copy sits beside my laptop. The book has many travel stories and other things that inspire me still; number one is: ‘If you can write a book- maybe you can write a blog.’

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Off to the side are two mirrors, one is slightly below desk level- I like a sense of mystery in home design- that’s how the wall ended up before I decided to push the desk in front of it. Above that mirror is my grandmother’s mirror; it is not a mirror to look into unless you want waves and streaks distorting your image, which I don’t. Above that mirror is a silhouette of myself as a child, my hair shape hasn’t changed too much.

The desk I write on- came from a local antique dealer but it’s been at my house so long, it has probably gotten more valuable- or not. The chair I sit in, is shared from time to time with Walter. I don’t think he particularly likes to sit in it but it is a deterrent to my writing when he wants to be brushed, watered or fed. And under the table, on the quirky wall is an empty antique printer’s drawer with tiny spaces for letters to typeset copy. Maybe it is the perfect writer’s wall, now that I think about it. That fat red notebook is stuffed with ideas and things I need to remember if my laptop expires as it is wont to do occasionally. The lamp is a thrift store find, the base turned out to be real pewter; it sheds good soft light. I sit facing East, a very pleasing direction for me, and the ghosts of this Southern girl- face West and gaze at the sunset every afternoon, I hope it keeps them calm and happy. I don’t need them rattling around too often. But I am not lonesome when I write:image

                                                        Walter, our Chief Feline Officer

Now, if you are not snoring or passed out from boredom– I need a favor. Part of my assignment is to ask you, the reader- for writing prompts. Did you hear that?? You are supposed to inspire me! (and you do! just need a little written prompt from you!) I will record your ideas and the inspirations in that fat red notebook – then perhaps I can pass this WordPress Course I am taking. I wouldn’t want to make the Happiness Engineers unhappy.

Seriously, post in the comment section on any media that you find this on -or go to my ‘About’ page and email me through my contact information, I’m on a time frame here- 10 days to go for this!  Your Ideas or what you most want to know about Camellia’s Cottage, as if I haven’t hung out enough family ghosts and craziness since I’ve been writing this! I also don’t want to fall victim to Great Granny Holmes’ Melancholia. I won’t send any family ghosts to haunt you, and your name will not be used unless you want me to publicize you to high heaven- And don’t ever forget this-

I love y’all, Camellia

*All of those less than perfect photographs were taken by me.

 

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Grocery Shopping after Vacation…

imageWhen I get back from vacation, I start the ‘wash’ and then go to the grocery store. As you know, strange things happen at my grocery store. Other people tell me they go without incident, except one friend who was asked on a date not once but twice in the cheese department! She’s a lady of a certain age as I am- so that was remarkable. I have not experienced that yet, however- today’s trip was interesting as usual. Since there was barely anyone in the store, I was sure this would be one of those rare, unremarkable trips.

I was trying to pick out some bananas when someone came up behind me and said- ‘I bought bananas last time and they were tasteless.’ I smiled and said ‘Well you know, we have to have our bananas- for cereal or maybe a banana pudding.’ ‘If you’re talking banana pudding, they might work, but the Granny Smith apples have more taste.  I pushed off thinking how tasteless it was to make comments over what I was buying! I got over to the floral department- nice lady there. ‘How are you?’ Oh fine, how are you? ‘I’m burning up!’ Really? it feels pretty cool in here to me. ‘Well, trying to work under these heat lamps is about to put me under the cooler!’ Honey, I’m sorry…have you told management?

And by the way, while you’re at it can you tell them they are out of Diet Rites? I have to get those because I’m allergic to aspartame and they don’t have any Diet Rites. ‘Allergic to aspertame?’ Yes. A guy from another cola company who was stocking- said, ‘Diet Rites don’t have aspartame? I’m allergic to it too.’ The flustered floral department lady said ‘What happens to y’all?’ Cola man said, ‘It makes my lips go numb.’ I am astounded. ‘It just causes some tingling and numbness but I’ve never had my lips go numb.’ He swore it did. Well, who am I to judge?  ‘ I used to drink these’ and pointed to an offender. He said, ‘I’ll tell you what happened to the mother of a friend of mine. She loved those, she opened a can and something hit her lips and it was a tiny mouse!’ What?!?!? ‘Yep, they wanted to settle out of court for millions- but she told ’em she’d take 2 million and a case of those colas per month for the rest of her life!’ I shook my head and thought how brave that woman was, to put her life on the line every single time she popped a can. I shoved off thinking that was my ‘incident’ of the day…no, wrong.

The floral department lady called out to me, ‘Camellia?’- ‘Yes?’ ‘Did you know that Granny Smith died?’ ‘I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about but I sure am sorry to hear it.’ ‘Well she lives over on Shanghai Road and worked as an OB/GYN nurse for …oh a long time.’ Really?  ‘Yes, there will be a mob tonight at the funeral home, she had 47 great grandchildren.’ Now, how old was this delivery room nurse?  ‘She was 94, had a good long life.’ Yes, she did. ‘And a memory like a top until the last few years, knew the names of every single one of those great grandchildren.’ Now, isn’t that something? But she wasn’t through, told me who was related by marriage to the Nurse…my ankles were twitching thinking about those tiny mice floating around in those diet colas.

She had more to relate and had  obviously recovered from the heat lamps. She started telling me about another lady who was on her deathbed. ‘Yes, two days ago,  called the family in and told them she had about 24 hours to live.’ Her daughters were horrified because for one thing- this lady is one of the best cooks in the county and they just knew she was taking her recipe for pound cake, egg custard pie and coconut cake to her grave, among other things. She never wrote anything down or if she did, there was always a critical ingredient missing. ‘But she’s lingering on, not dead yet…and the food! oh my when word got out that she was dying- offers to make devilled eggs, fresh green beans, squash casserole- the Sunday School class was providing the ham- estimates of how many to feed went out and paper products, cutlery, cups, sweet tea, coffee- then, giggles and exclamations from the floral department about the baker on her deathbed- ‘Maybe the offers of food at her wake had kept her hanging on.’ I wondered myself if the baker was waiting to hear if someone would dare bring a custard pie or a coconut cake to rival hers. ‘The phone lines are hot with arrangements- she was still hanging on but it wouldn’t be long…she’d been ready to ‘go’ ever since her husband had up and died 8 years before. Was never the same. Baked a dozen cakes and two dozen pies the night her husband died-for his wake. It seemed to calm her nerves.’ In the South, when someone dies, we can put on a funeral, is all I can say.

I thought-I’m not encouraging this…’Well which funeral home has Granny Smith?’ She sucked in her breath…and told me the arrangements, told me again that there would have to be enough food there to feed an army what with 47 great grandchildren. I thought about offering up my bananas but why send something so tasteless? ‘Well listen darling, if we can make it over there we sure will.’ I. escaped. Surely this would be it for this trip. Not so, as I rounded the corner the butcher was waiting with his cellphone open…

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His daughter is married to a distant cousin. I thought he had new pictures of his 4 year old grandson, who apparently got the call to preach last year on the Fourth of July. Battling heat, mosquitos and swatting flies- a crowd gathered on the bleachers, waiting for the fireworks. This little dark haired tyke, marched to the front of the bleachers and called out as loud as he could- ‘Can I get an amen? Hallelujah! Thank y’all for coming out tonight!’  He sang, he waved his little arms, he hollered out amen and amen…he ran the rails, he called down fire. And what do you know? Fireworks started popping and fizzling- the sky lit up. Yes, he definitely had the gift. Got it from our side of the family no doubt. But this was not to be the story from the open cellphone…that’s next week…the Fourth of July.

Oh no, the butcher wanted to show me a picture of a buggy load of some of the finest steaks in the store! Someone had tried to leave the store with that buggy load the night before- ‘Well, I’ll be.’ ‘You think that’s somethin’? They did manage to get a buggy full of King Crab legs out of here- just watched it on tape.’ Will wonders never cease.

Surely this was it…I managed to get over to the dairy aisle. I felt the shadow of a man come over my shoulder.- I was thinking- surely it’s not the creepy man who asks women out on dates by the cheese. It wasn’t. He was very tall, so skinny he probably had to stand sideways in the shower. ‘Hey, Ms. Camellia, did ya hear ’bout Granny Smith?’ Yes. I. did. ‘Slipped on a throw rug, broke her nose, black eyes and everything- said some of those great grandkids were underfoot.’ Well, that’s awful. ‘Did ya hear my momma died?’ No, I didn’t. I am so sorry. How did she die? ‘I’ll tell ya what got ‘er. Cigarettes, Lard and Beer.’ I could not think of one thing to say, except – Cigarettes. Lard and Beer? How old was she? Soulfully, the thin man said ‘She was just 92.’ I cleared my throat, straightened up and said-‘Well, I hate to hear it.’ I saw a friend as I was leaving the store- I told him not to buy cigarettes, lard or beer, that he won’t live past 92. He said- ‘I tell you what Camellia, if you’ll add Gin to that diet I’m goin’ on it.’ Me? I’m switching to water. You cannot make this stuff up. image

I missed everybody when I was on vacation- cannot wait to share some of it with you! Just had to have some fun and share the continuing grocery store saga with you! Until next time-

Love y’all, Camellia