Sunday, July 23, 2006

The Five-Fifty-Five

Most of my childhood family memories center around the two blocks that circled Mama's family's compound. Her parents had a nice brick house on College Street right across from Dyersburg High School. Right down the hill, the Methodist church is still standin' and flapping open the doors every Sunday for our family. It's the best sledding place in town. Next to that is the Baird Brewer building where Herman ran the elevator and across the street from there is...a bank. That wasn't always the case, y'all.

paw paw

Where the bank stands now used to be my Grandaddy's service station...full service, complete with guys to pump gas and clean those windshields. The Silver Castle was nestled against the side of the station and the scent of burgers on the griddle was way too enticing for anybody to pass up. Mama worked there as a teenager and fed all of her friends on her Daddy's dime. I can't say for sure, but I imagine the gas we pay three bucks for now was about a nickel a gallon. Can you imagine? My grandaddy, Pawpaw, was a well respected businessman and land owner. As the first grandchild, I christened my grandmother "Gaga" since I couldn't say Geraldine. Her parents, Ethel and Oskie, lived a few streets over by the elementary school that both my mother and I attended. Their house was down the hill from the playground and I would slip down there for lunch sometimes. Oh MY! What a treat that was. She cooked smothered chicken in an iron skillet and accompanied it with stewed 'taters and berries and cream for dessert. After Oskie died, Ethel's only company was her parakeets. I'd watch as she changed the newspapers in the bottom of the cages and get them to say "pretty bird" just to make me smile. Mama says she used to take the birds to Easter sunrise service so everybody could hear their songs as the sun came up.

Sometimes Ethel would take me downtown to Woolworth's in her faded old '49 Ford. The top was painted red and the story goes that was so you could see her coming! She had this habit of backing straight out instead of puttin' a turn on it and woe be unto anyone in her way. We would wander around Woolworth's looking at the birds and fish and underwear, and then we'd sidle up to the lunch counter for a bite to eat and a fountain coke. The courthouse was right across the street, smack in the center of town. You could find anything you needed all right there around court square. Forked Deere hardware was, and still is, on the opposite side of the courthouse. Peppered in between the retail stores were the lawyer's offices, an easy walk across the street.

Most of those businesses are gone now, replaced by newer ones that have refurbished the vintage buildings with love and care. Any respectable southern town has a Confederate war monument perched somewhere visible, and ours is right there on court square next to the benches that nobody but the street people use. As the decades and generations whiz quickly by, I'm grateful to have this heritage to hold close and remember fondly. Like I've always told my daughter: " Remember who you are."

Friday, July 21, 2006

Hays House, Macon, Georgia


One of Georgia’s most distinguished structures, the Johnston-Felton-Hay House in Macon was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1974. It was built from 1855 to 1859 in the Italian Renaissance Revival style, a marked contrast to the more restrained Greek Revival architecture of the antebellum period.

The 18,000-square-foot mansion spans four levels and is crowned by a three-story cupola. Commissioned by imaginative owners and constructed by the most skillful workers of the time, its technological amenities were unsurpassed in the mid-19th century: hot and cold running water, central heat, a speaker-tube system, in-house kitchen and an elaborate ventilation system.

Only two families lived in Hay House over three generations. Most of the museum’s furnishings date from the Hay family’s occupancy (1926-1962). A few pieces are from the Johnston family (1860-1896), most notably the Eastlake-style dining room suite. The most important piece in the collection may be the 1857 marble statue, "Ruth Gleaning," by American expatriate sculptor Randolph Rogers.

The Johnstons
William Butler Johnston was no typical nineteenth-century Southerner. He obtained his substantial wealth through investments in banking, railroads and public utilities rather than from the agrarian cotton economy. In 1851, he married Anne Clark Tracy, 20 years his junior, and the two embarked on an extended honeymoon in Europe. During their trip, the Johnston's visited hundreds of museums, historic sites and art studios. They collected fine porcelains, sculptures and paintings as mementos of their Grand Tour. The Johnston's were inspired by the Italian architecture they observed and, upon their return to America, constructed a monumental Italian Renaissance Revival mansion in Macon.

The Feltons
Completed in 1859 and called the "Palace of the South," the residence was decorated and furnished in accordance with wealth and good taste. It became a beloved home for the Johnston's, their daughters and their extended family. After the death of Mrs. Johnston in 1896, daughter Mary Ellen and her husband William H. Felton lived in the house. They remodeled and redecorated parts of the house, updated the plumbing and added electricity.

The Hays
After the deaths of Judge and Ms. Felton in 1926, Felton heirs sold the house to Parks Lee Hay, founder of the Banker's Health & Life Insurance Company. The Hays substantially redecorated the house to reflect the changing character of twentieth-century living, and the house at 934 Georgia Avenue continued to be recognized as a local landmark for gracious living during the Hay ownership.

After Mrs. Hay's death in 1962, her heirs established the P.L. Hay Foundation and operated the house as a private house museum. In 1977, ownership of the house was formally transferred to the Georgia Trust for Historic Preservation. The house has been operated by the Trust since that time and has been designated as a National Historic Landmark.

The house itself contains more than 16,000 square feet in 24 principal rooms. When constructed, it had hot and cold running water, three bathrooms, an intercom system, central heat, and an advanced ventilating system. Hay House is constantly undergoing research and restoration, while remaining open to the public, thereby showing visitors interesting and informative procedures.

Hay House (Johnston-Felton-Hay) is designed in the Italian Renaissance Revival style, unusual for residential architecture, most particularly in the South in the 1850s. It is chiefly characterized by arches and curves, as opposed to the Greek Revival style which is composed mainly with straight lines. Notice that all the windows are round arches. Symmetry is also fundamental to this style. The central block of the house is flanked by two wings which are identical, at least from the exterior. The two-story octagonal cupola crowns the house and gives it a sense of vertical lift. The cupola serves as part of the ventilation system, acting as a chimney which helps to draw the hot air up and out of the house.

Originally the Johnston estate was composed of 3.8 acres bordered by Nisbet Avenue to the West, Spring Street to the East, Turnpike Road, (presently Georgia Avenue) to the North, and Cherry Street to the South. The ginkgo trees, magnolias and cedars date to the 19th century and are among the few surviving early plantings.

The Hay family added the driveway and brick gateposts. They also redesigned and replanted the grounds and added the lower garden and fish pond.

For more information, contact:
Hay House
934 Georgia Ave. Macon, Georgia 31201
478-742-8155
Fax 478-745-4277

Courtesy of the Georgia Historical Society

Idgie Remembers the Grilled Cheese

I was reading an article the other day about the death of the lunch counter. Ya'll remember Woolworth's and such?

Nothing better than going to town with Mama and buying a whole mess of doo-dads and then getting the giant treat of being told we'd stop at the lunch counter and eat before going home.

It was so exciting to a little girl!

A lunch counter at the drug store was nowhere as "fussy" as lunch in a restaurant. You simply wandered over with your purchases left in a pile behind you somewhere.. no one would ever touch them... and you climbed up on a spinny stool. From there you would start to spin like mad till you either fell off or felt your Mama's hand wop you in the head to slow you down.

Then the part where my Mama got annoyed. I never, ever, ever ordered anything but a grilled cheese sandwich, fries or chips, and a milkshake. Drove her mad. Why? Simply because Mama always felt that if you're spending the time, energy and money to eat out, even at a lunch counter... you should branch out a little and get something different.

Apparently I ate grilled cheese at home all the time. Mama was fond of homemade milkshakes so I had those too. Really, she couldn't make fries to save her life so I always argued those were different.

But I still so very fondly remember the spinning stool, the thrill of eating with the adults at a counter, the milk shake machines.... and all the way the busy ringing of the cash registers and the people talking and shopping behind me.

Mama and I use to eat at those until I was out of high school. My small town in Mississippi kept a Woolworth's open until the mid-80s, when it finally gave up the fight as one of those super stores moved in a few miles down the road.

Now, we go shop at Wal-mart for our doo-dads and drive-thru Chick-fil-a on the way home.

The magic is lost.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Do you wrench it, chunk it or mash it?

Today I'm gonna chat about Southern expressions.

There are certain Southern words that I love. I use them all the time. But they're not known in all parts of the South. So at times I can be talking to someone from, say Atlanta, and they won't have a clue what I'm talking about, while someone from Mississippi will understand me completely.

At the same time, I'm pretty sure that Southerners have a habit of just making words up. I often wonder if I'm using a "real" word and then am always relieved when I finally hear someone else use it. Southerners make up the most wonderful expressions and words to describe things and most of the time it's a perfect fit.

I have several favorite words that I use on a fairly constant basis. Wrench it, Chunk it and Mash it. Now, if you don't know what I mean with these words, I'll make some examples for ya. All are basically "directional pulling" words for me. I mash a door shut. I chunk a handle up or down. I wrench a door open.

I also itch a scratch instead of scratch an itch and I'm always "fixin to" get to something, yah, I'm fixin to get to it "right quick".

The sky looks dark and it looks like "it's fixin' to fuss up".

At times I have to drive "right far" to get somewhere. "Right close" can be around the corner or 15 miles away. Depends on who's giving directions. Old timers tend to think 1/2 a day is close by.

Where I'm from we use the word "Booger" a lot. When someone's a pain or a machine isn't working right... they're a booger. "That engine's being a dern nasty booger about starting today". Find some other place where an adult can say booger with a straight face!

But it's not just Southernisms I love. I love distinct expressions from other regions.

I will tell ya'll that I adore Yiddish words. It does throw off my Southern-ism a bit when I'm talking to someone and use the words Ya'll, mash, and then Schmuck in the same sentance. I think the Yiddish language has "expressionism" down pat, even more than the Southern-isms. You know EXACTLY what is being said, good or bad. I've worked with quite a few people that use the Yiddish expressions all the time and I've soaked those into my brain for life.

British expressions... Love them! They all just sound amusing. Even an insult brings a smile. I use those too. There does tend to be confusion when a Southerner and a Brit have a conversation though... between the accents and the manner in which a certain word is used... It can cause hilarity or cause someone to get the gun out from under the rug.



Now on to an interesting tidbit here, courtesy of National Geographic. For years I have heard that accents are going away all across the country because we travel so easily and all watch the same television shows, etc. etc. I do know that I pop over the Alabama line often and visit Atlanta and it's hard pressed to find a Southern accent there.

Well, according the National Geo, except for the major cities... America is clinging hard to it's regional accents.

That I'm happy about. I would hate to see the world homogenized into one "non-accent". How dull would that be?

I think it's great we're holding tight to our heritage here in the South.

--------------------------

I'm not actually making any sort of point here today, I'm just nattering on about words and their beauty. They're all so fun! I think words are great and I love hearing wording that's exclusive to a certain area. It helps identify people or just make where they're from sound more interesting to others.

So if you run into the Piggly Wiggly and you hear someone kvetching under their breath, threatening to get something "quicker than you can skin a catfish", and finishing the sentance with "by Crikey", you probably have just run into Idgie!

(Slightly re-written and re-printed from last year.)

Thursday, July 13, 2006

The Front Row People


The Hunter family reunion. It has been a strong, clannish Scots-Irish tradition since long before I was born. They took place long before a family photo at these occasions also became a tradition. Aunts and uncles, cousins and cousins of cousins, all gathered here with us at the old home place each summer. It was an occasion to bring your best casserole and your best dessert, fried chicken, banana pudding and all the best of mouth watering goodies. We looked forward to Aunt Fielda’s macaroni pie and chocolate pound cake, Aunt Mary’s blueberry yum yum and my sister Fran’s seven layer salad.

Most of the out of town folk stayed with us. The more the merrier; sleeping on a palette on the floor and giving the grown folks our beds. My cousin Mary Anne and I always got into trouble for laughing and snickering after all the rest of the house was asleep. The harder we tried not to laugh, the harder it was to hold it in. We would hear my father’s feet hit the floor and each step he took sounded like a bass drum as he made his way toward us. It was too late to pretend we were asleep. He would no more than get back to bed after giving us the “speech”, than we were at it again, holding our hands over our nose and mouth, face buried in a pillow and bending over double with silent laughter.

We didn’t notice the hot, humid days without air conditioning. The mountain breezes were cool and quiet. The older cousins were beginning to have boyfriends and girlfriends and some had married and begun families of their own. It was a happy time, a carefree time and a time of wonderful smells. The mountains had their own special smell, the creeks had their own smell and the smells of all who cooked the special dishes filled the air of that special time. There was also the smell of that special cousin who had just begun to use after shave and cologne.

The oldest Hunters, my mother and her sisters and brothers would sit in lawn chairs in the front row for the photo. Five girls, three boys and several of their aunts, uncles and cousins of the Hunter lineage made up that row.

I remember once a very long time ago, my granny was there. She was a short, gentle woman with gray hair tied at the nape of her neck in a bun. I loved to comb her hair. That was a very special time for me. Her belly would jiggle up and down when she laughed, and she loved to laugh. The top of her apron was hidden in that wonderful secret place underneath her sagging breasts that had nursed 8 children. That wonderful secret place where she gathered my head close and tight when I was hurt or when I was crying. The smell of talcum powder, soap and camphor are there today in my memories. Whatever caused the hurt or the crying was not important.

Behind the front row gathered the children and grandchildren, husbands and friends. Over the years, some of the husbands changed, and then the husbands of the front row people began to die. Over the years, the children and husbands of my generation began to die. Some were lingering, agonizing illnesses and the Hunter tradition of sudden death plagued one period when we had 9 deaths in our immediate family in 3 years.

This year, the last of the front row people left us. She was the last of my mother’s siblings, my Aunt Joncie.

Her death made me sad, it left me bewildered and it left me to realize that now….

I am a front row person.

Written by Judy Ricker

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

A Kentucky Funny


I recently attended the Owensboro Bluegrass and Art Festival.

I enjoy Bluegrass Music very much and Mike Snyder was there and I've always enjoyed his music and humor.

Well, we had a weekend pass so the next day I went down to look at the arts and crafts. I went into this one booth with the most beautiful woodwork you can imagine...and in the middle of one table was this little awkward looking model outhouse. I look at it...curiousity killed the cat once again...I opened the wee door to see...and the dang thang blew up on me!!! I look over at the owner who looked and me very seriously and said "You broke it, now you've got to pay for it."
Hubby then walks into the booth and the owner tells him, your wife just turned as red as your shirt and the two men just have a hoot over it...of course I had to buy one...doncha know!!!
Before...

After...there is a mouse trap inside that you set and when the door is opened then it breaks the whole thing up!! Now, I probably didn't need to tell ya'll that in case you ever get to visit me, now should I??

I gave way too much for this confounded contraption...but I wanted it!! And if the truth be told he probably sells more of these than that beautiful expensive woodwork and all it is, is scrap wood and a mousetrap...maybe I'm in the wrong bizness!!

If you would like one contact...Custom Woodworking by "Benzel"~Ben Ferrell 931-232-7603

Kentucky girls are...the thoroughbreds of the South.
http://kentucky-gal.blogspot.com

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

A Fine Southern Delicacy

 





Quick - what's hiding underneath that golden crusty batter? Posted by Picasa

Monday, July 10, 2006

Speaking of Kudzu...

Did y'all know that you can eat the stuff? I didn't. Not until I ran across some Kudzu Jelly at Cades Cove in the Great Smoky Mountains. That led me to do some research into the scourge of the south and what I found was amazing and slightly weird.

Kudzu Jelly is made with the kudzu blossom. Now, I have heard that the blossom smells slightly like grapes and I know one lady who makes kudzu-scented soaps, but I have never had the opportunity to smell a blossom myself. To be honest, even growing up in Alabama, I never knew kudzu had blossoms. I am not the only one it seems. A lot of people never notice. I mean, who really looks at kudzu anyway? We southerners hate it.

But Jane Linton over at her websight, Southern Delights, says you can use every part of the kudzu plant. Her Kudzu Jelly recipe as well as her Rolled Kudzu Leaves with Stuffing recipe will be an interesting addition to your meal. She even suggests frying your chicken with kudzu powder.

According to Indian Spring Herbal Encyclopedia, "Kudzu has more calories per gram than honey, but unlike honey, which is quick burning sugar, Kudzu is a long sustaining source of energy."

Hmmm, maybe I should start taking it.

Herbal Extracts Plus says that " Kudzu has long been a treatment for alcohol abuse in the Orient. The tea that is made from Kudzu is called xing-jiu-ling, which is literally translated as "sober up." Researchers in Indiana University discovered two compounds in Kudzu that alter the enzymes that break down alcohol in the liver, and as a result, an alcohol byproduct, acetaldehyde, builds up, producing nausea, facial redness, and general discomfort in the subject. The chemicals daidzin and daidzein in the roots and flowers appear to suppress the appetite for alcohol."

They go on to say "Traditional herbalists have valued the starch content in Kudzu as a way to soothe minor digestive system problems and gastrointestinal discomforts such as heartburn, acid indigestion, abdominal cramps, diarrhea, gas, colitis, dysentery, gastritis, nausea, and vomiting.

"Kudzu could be helpful in the treatment of congestive heart failure and heart attack. Flavonoid-like substances in Kudzu appear to help blood flow through the coronary arteries, lower blood pressure, and improve circulation; and one compound in Kudzu, puerarin, is a beta-blocker, which seems to reduce a racing pulse induced by stress."

And it just goes on and on...

Oxford Stroud, an author who taught at Auburn University, also used kudzu to make Kudzu Tea. Doens't sound very appetizing to me, but each to his or her own.

The website, Mountain Manna, sells exotic jellies including Kudzu Jelly as well as dandelion and honeysuckle jellies.

While surfing, I read about a lady who would deep fry kudzu leaves for her kids and they loved it! She just used buttermilk and seasoned flour. I'll have to try that. Of course, everyone says to use kudzu that hasn't been sprayed with chemicals. That's a given.

You can also weave baskets out of the cane of the kudzu vines. There seems to be many ways to utilize the plant that I had never heard of. My mama always said, "You learn something new every day," but I don't think even she has ever heard of kudzu jelly. Some people even make decorative paper out of kudzu.

According to the Natchez Naturalists Newsletter, "you can make Kudzu tea, jelly, vinegar, syrup and wine from the flowers, and these should be delicious because the flowers smell a lot like grape juice. Cattle, donkeys, pigs and goats thrive eating Kudzu vines. Hay made of Kudzu contains 12 to 15% protein. Nutritious noodles can be made from Kudzu root-powder, which sells for about $30/pound. A tough, beautiful cloth and a delicate paper costing $3/sheet can be made from fibers extracted from Kudzu vines, and sturdy baskets can be woven from Kudzu vine stems."

Kudzu may be the "Scourge of the South", but it seems as if there are so many new uses for the weed, that there may be hope for the south at last. So if you are being attacked by the green, leafy plant, go and make a batch of kudzu jelly, a basket, or some fried kudzu leaves. I think I might just be brave enough to try one, two or even three of those suggestions myself.
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Kudzu Links:

http://home.att.net/~ejlinton/jelly.html
http://www.geocities.com/kudzufest/kudzurecipes.html
http://indianspringherbs.com/kudzu.htm
http://www.alabamatv.org/kudzu/
http://www.yahoolavista.com/kudzu/
http://fredericksburg.com/News/FLS/2005/092005/09172005/129856
http://www.maststoreonline.com/browse.cfm/4,912.htm

© 2006 Dana Sieben
www.southerngalgoesnorth.blogspot.com

Sunday, July 9, 2006

Southern Family Reunion


Doodle Bug launched herself from the small bluff, holding tight to the old vine, the wind whipping her auburn hair behind her, "Yeeeeeee-haaaaaaa!!" she cried as she skidded to the other bluff. Cousins whooping down the trail were not surprised to see her little escapade...Doodle Bug was brave that way!!! They all ran back down the winding trails of this Civil War Memorial Park, to the picnic area laughing and kicking up their heels.

Uncles, young and old were pitted against one another outside the pavilion playing the game of washers...Old Uncle Clifford, dug the pits with his pocket knife and they tossed the rusty washers to and fro with sounds of victory or defeat in between.

Doodle Bug noticed her momma helping to set up the table...and Old Uncle Jo-Jo standing behind her momma...Uncle Jo-Jo the drinker of the family, had had a little too much to drink, as usual.

He was leaning in close to poor momma and telling her, "Did ya know I caught her wiff anudder man?"

Momma, being Momma tried to be nice,"Oh, really..."
She walks away,but as soon as she turns around, there he is again, right up in her face, the smell of Old Crow whiskey fumes like a cloud around them.
"Yep, caught her wiff a anudder man, can tell you jes who it ishh too" he breathes into her face.

"Well, Jo-Jo, I gotta go," Momma says and points to the restrooms.
Momma makes her escape down the small walkway with a wooden bridge and goes into the park restroom, where she hides for just a little minute in a stall. She overhears some talk between some of the womenfolk of the family...."Poor little Suzy, born with her eyes crossed...you know I think she must be blind! Matter of fact I've told them she is blind...she just has to be blind with those eyes crossed thataway...poor little baby!!!" The front door slams as the prognosticator leaves.

Then a wham as a stall door hits the wall, Momma gives a little jump, startled.

"That woman just makes me madder than a hornet!!! Who does she think she is talkin' about my baby that a' way!!"

Then a voice of the offended woman's mother in law named Patsy, "Don't pay no attention to "Saint" Maggie, Roberta...you know her, she thinks she knows everything...and her kids can never do no wrong...well, I could tell you some stories...just not here in this stinky hot toilet..." and the front door slams again, Patsy's voice carries back to Momma, "You know it's hard to stay mad at her...she just does and does for this family..."

Momma thinks, "One of these days "Saint" Maggie is just gonna go too far and someone is gonna slap her jaws...and I'd love to be a fly on the wall to see that!!"

With it clear to go, Momma makes her way back to the pavilion just in time for her mother-in-law's yearly show. Norma Jean had climbed up onto a picnic table and wiggling her little size 6 hips and brandishing a empty ice cream bucket yells..."Attention eve' body!!!! Thankye for coming...I want to remind ever'body that we need donations for next year so we can rent this here pavilion again...I'm gonna pass this bucket and I want ever'body to put somethin' in it..." Momma knew she would not miss a soul either...some of the people here could not afford to bring more than a loaf of bread or a bag of chips but Norma Jean would have that bucket shoved under their noses just the same.

Then a hush settles over the crowd as "Saint" Maggie's saintly husband Fred asks the blessin' on this Glorious assembly and day and for the best food around..."Amen and Amen!!"

Lines form for fried chicken, ham, barb-b-que, salads of every sort...the tables groaning with food.

Up walks Cousin Colleen, late as usual and dressed in the latest trend of low rise jeans, and pewter sandal's.

"Don't tell me ya'll done started without Meeeee!!!" she sashayes up and plunks a bucket of chicken on the table.

Someone admires her new sandals and she says, "Oh they're puwther", meaning pewter but how's a 40 something woman supposed to say it right with braces on her teeth??

Then she preens as someone notices her new eye makeup "It's tattooed on!" she says, while wiggling down the food line and "Saint" Fred admiring her snug behind.

Doodle Bug notices her daddy sitting beside old Aunt Corine.
Corine looks at her daddy and says "Now, who are you?"
Daddy patiently explains "I'm Darcy's husband Dooley", and continues eating. Aunt Corine eats some more then looks at him again, "Now who are you?"

Daddy was patient after one or two times of this, but, everyone knew Aunt Corine had the Old Timer's disease and daddy is such a tease, this time he said "Aunt Corine, I'm just a poor hungry soldier done come up from the trenches of war down that hill yonder, to eat with you all!"
Aunt Corine looks at him blankly and says "Oh" and digs in to a piece of watermelon...daddy meanwhile moves a little further down the table.

The jokester, old Uncle JC is in his element as a long lost cousin from up Wisconsin way motors up on a motor bike with his newest girlfriend. Now the girlfriend is a beautiful black woman with long flowing hair. Noone has ever brought home a black woman or man into this family, but Billy Joe done did!!

Uncle JC says, "Well looky there... there comes Billy Joe and Flo Jo!!!" And then has the nerve to ask the poor girl if she was Billy Joe's maid!!! Her name was Tasha and she laughed and joked around with the Ol' Fart, and if she was upset with his nonsense she covered it well with her beautiful smile, and told "Saint" Maggie, "Yes, I've been around white people before." after "Saint" Maggie had had the nerve to ask her had she ever been around this many white people before.

Since Uncle JC didn't get much of a rise out of Tasha he walks up to a new member of the family and says, "Shellie do you have holes in your panties?"

Shellie looking shocked says "Why, of course not!!!"
"Well how in the world did you get them on then??" he hoots.
He then says "I'm just joshin' ya...see that mountain man over there?" Pointing to a stout bearded fella in overalls and flowing hair and beard with a black felt hat.

Shellie turns to look and says "Yes?"
"Well ma'am, he used to star in the Little House on the Prairie...if I wuz you I would get his autograph before you leave!"
Shellie looks awestruck as she makes her way to her purse and a pen and paper.

Of course the cousin has never been out of the state of Kentucky but Shellie won't know that till later and Old Uncle JC will make sure he is on hand to watch.

Doodle Bug's brother Digger walks up, dirty with sweat and sand from playing down at the playground, "Can I have an ice cream cone now, Momma?"

Momma smiles and takes him and Doodle Bug on up to the ice cream hut, and they all get a vanilla swigley cone and begin the steep walk up to the bluff overlooking the river.

Digger says "Momma I like this reunion better than the last one."
"Why is that Digger?" asks Momma.
"Oh Momma, you remember...the one we went to with your family...a funeral busted out in the middle of it!" he exclaimed.
"Oh yes," said Momma snickering to herself and thinking of her family that had a reunion at a church fellowship hall, and decided to go next door to the auditorium with the remains of an odd uncle that had been cremated, and sat wrapped like a Christmas present on the remembrance table,"I thought that was kinda funny myself!"

Laughing they reached the top of the bluff and looked out at the beautiful Mississippi river rolling along into the distance of a fun filled Southern day....

Tammy the Kentucky Gal
Kentucky girls are...the thoroughbreds of the South.


Friday, July 7, 2006

THE KUDZU CONSPIRACY!


What you are fixing to read is not the wild imaginings of some publicity-seeking whacked out money-grabbing goofball, but the cold hard facts and some reasonable and sobering conclusions based on those facts. As a matter of fact, the Kudzu Conspiracy has been well documented for many years, but this documentation has been suppressed by those participating in the conspiracy. They would have you believe that Kudzu is simply a harmless fuzzy plant that grows a teensy-weensy bit faster than usual -- DON'T YOU BELIEVE IT!

Read on................

It's always best to start with the dictionary definition, just so you can clearly see how pervasive and deeply entrenched this conspiracy really is. As you learn the facts, you will see that even the all-hallowed American Heritage Dictionary is a party to this deliberate deluge of misinformation:

(kud´zu) --n. A vine, Pueraria lobata, native to Japan, that has compound leaves and clusters of reddish-purple flowers and is grown for fodder and forage. (Japanese "kuzu")

Next, let's look at the description of Kudzu given by another co-conspirator, the publishers of the Concise Columbia Encyclopedia:

Kudzu, Pueraria lobata (formerly P. thunbergiana) - - Kudzu is native to China and Japan, where it is cultivated for its edible roots and for its stem fibers, known as ko-hemp. It was introduced as an ornamental under it's Japanese name into the southern United States during the 1870s; the related P. tuberosa and P. phaseoloides were introduced about 1911.

What are these passages really saying? It's as plain as the nose on your face! Can Kudzu really be used for "fodder and forage?" NO! Cows won't eat it, goats won't eat it, horses won't eat it, not one animal in the United States will eat it, not even the bugs will eat it! Why? Because it tastes horrible and it's too darn fuzzy and too tough to chew, that's why. You ever see a farmer deliberately plant Kudzu so his livestock can graze on it? NO! Why? Because nothing will eat it! Those are that facts, and they are in direct contradiction to what the big publishing companies would have you to believe.

Why, you ask, would they disseminate this type of incorrect and misleading information? Because they're part of the conspiracy, that's why!

What is it that Kudzu actually does? It grows like a son-of-a-gun! Kudzu grows at an astounding rate -- over one foot a day. Haven't you seen Kudzu growing along the highway, trying to grow out into the traffic lanes? The only thing that stops it from growing right out and over the road is the constant crushing from tractor-trailer tires. You've seen this with your own eyes, if you will just stop and think about it.

When Kudzu runs up against something, it climbs right up. Actually, Kudzu grows faster vertically than it grows along the ground, because it will only flower and produce seeds if it is 50 or 60 feet up in the air! Trees and houses get grown over with the stuff in a matter of a few weeks! Why is that important? Not only trees and houses, but also telephone poles, stands for electrical power lines, microwave towers, need I go on? Think about it - - everything we rely on for commerce and communications is up on a pole or on top of a tower. What would happen if all of these were to be overgrown with Kudzu? Total chaos and anarchy, that's what!

How can you get rid of Kudzu? YOU CAN'T! The roots go down over 10 feet deep. You can't pull it up out of the ground, and if you try to dig it up and miss even the smallest piece of the roots, it grows right back! Kudzu produces seed like the dickens, too. One seed pod can have over 100 seeds, and one Kudzu vine can have as many as 500 seed pods! These "seeds of destruction" blow all over the countryside, and can land up to several miles away. They will germinate and grow vigorously under just about any conditions! They'll sprout out of cracks in the pavement if that's where they land.

Who "introduced" the demon plant Kudzu to the United States? The Japanese, that's who. Well, that's real interesting, isn't it? Here's how that happened: Back in the 1870's the US Forestry Service was having some erosion problems down South. Logging of pine trees left bare patches of red clay soil, and it was difficult to get anything to grow back very quickly. The man who was targeted by the Japanese secret operatives and the one who would be used to implement their cruel and destructive plot was Ranger Roger Jacobs, trusted veteran of the US Forestry Service in Billville, Georgia. "Gee whiz," said Ranger Roger, "I wish there were some type of plant that would grow quickly enough to cover the ground before the erosion got so bad." Japanese secret operatives found out about this, and one day an envelope with no return address arrived in Ranger Roger's mail.

Inside the envelope were, you guessed it, Kudzu seeds. Also inside was a little note that said "tly these seeds -- they may plovide the answer to your elosion plobrem." Being the trusting soul that he was, Ranger Roger didn't suspect a thing. He planted the seeds, and found the plant that grew from them did pretty well in the red clay soil and grew just about as fast as honeysuckle vines. This was better than anything else he had, so Ranger Roger started to propagate the plant and build up a seed stock so the plant could be distributed to other forest rangers. This plant was the first species of Kudzu, Pueraria lobata. This is not the same species that is now covering the countryside at such an alarming rate, but sending this species over first was part of the insidious master plan.

Over the next 20 years, the US Forestry Service planted this first, slow-growing type of Kudzu throughout the South. It worked OK, but just didn't grow fast enough to cover the ground very effectively. "Gee," thought Ranger Roger around 1910, "I wish there were some other species of this plant that grew a little more quickly." Sure enough, around 1910 as best as we can determine (the original historic documents were lost in an old-growth stand of Kudzu) Ranger Roger got another letter in the mail - - no return address. Inside the letter were some more seeds that looked similar to the first ones, but were a little bigger, and a little fuzzier. There was a note inside, but we will never know what it said because Ranger Roger was so excited to get the new type of seeds that he never read the note. Those seeds, as we now sadly know all too well, were the species P. tuberosa and P. phaseoloides - - developed in secret Japanese laboratories to be the fastest growing plants in the world!

Ranger Roger planted the new seeds, and they started to grow within just a few days! They grew very quickly, and seemed to be the answer to Ranger Roger's prayers. Little did he know, he was a pawn in the calculated plot to destroy the very infrastructure of the country he loved so dearly. Within just a few years, the new type of Kudzu was distributed and planted all over the Southern states.

You see, the master plan was working. With the first kind of Kudzu, the seed production and distribution network had been set up. Now the new accelerated growth species of Kudzu could be spread out beyond any hope of recovery before there was time to see just what type of damage it would cause.

Around the end of the 1930's, the US Forest Service realized that they had made a terrible, terrible mistake in planting the new species of Kudzu. Wherever the new Kudzu had been planted, it had spread out of control and was wreaking havoc on the countryside. It grew out of the "erosion control" areas and into the surrounding forests. It grew up and over the forest trees, blanketing and smothering them with fuzzy mats of inedible leaves. The weight of the heavy and rope-like Kudzu vines pulled down the trees as they died off. The forest was being devastated over thousands of acres with a bright green unstoppable abomination.

At this time, a program to eradicate the Kudzu was developed. The Kudzu was just about beyond the point of no return for any hope of killing it off, and the program was an emergency "last-ditch" effort backed up by an Executive Order. Everyone involved in the eradication program knew it was going to be close, and every able-bodied member of the Forest Services, National Guard and Armed Forces Reserves would have to give it everything they had for the eradication to be successful. Secret Japanese operatives became aware of the plan. If the program to eliminate Kudzu was successful, years of secret infiltration and laboratory research would be all for naught. The Japanese knew they had to do something drastic to derail the Kudzu elimination operation. It would have to be something so outrageous and provocative that everyone would forget about the Kudzu for a few more years until it had grown past the point of any hope for eliminating it.

Well, let's stop and think a minute. Hmmmmm, did the Japanese do something distracting and provocative around the early 1940's? You're dern tootin' they did - - Pearl Harbor, that's what! As a result, every man, woman and child in the United States became occupied with the War Effort, with little or no time for anything else. As a result of this deliberate and devilish tactic of distraction, the plan to eliminate Kudzu was put on the back burner until after the end of W.W.II, and by then it was too late.

The Kudzu had grown so widely that there would never be any hope of eliminating it - - and the "choking out" of the United States was now only a matter of time.

My friends, the rest is history, or is yet to be history. You see all around you today the evidence of the Kudzu blight that is upon this land. Inexorably the stranglehold widens and tightens, acre after acre after acre. Before too much longer, we will have reached the point where each and every man, woman and child will be circled around their home with weed whackers and hedge trimmers trying to keep the little plot of land they call theirs from being overrun by the evil green menace. It will be a full-time job, folks, just keeping the strangling tangled web of fuzzy green leaves from growing over us all. In the long run, it will be a futile effort.

Kudzu doesn't sleep, Kudzu doesn't get tired, Kudzu won't stop for anything or anybody. Even in the winter, when it looks like the Kudzu is stopped by the cold and frost, it's growing underground. The roots keep spreading out and when spring comes, the Kudzu leaps from hidden places and wins back it's lost ground and more, much much more. Maybe you and I won't be here to see it, maybe our children's children will be the ones to shriek the final silent scream of Kudzu-muffled terror as the last little piece of blue sky left is covered over by the unstoppable wave of fuzzy green growth.

THERE ARE A LOT OF CONSPIRACY THEORIES GOING AROUND about everything from Ebola Virus to the Trilateral Commission. DON'T BE DISTRACTED. All the other conspiracies are part of the conspiracy to keep you from finding out about the real conspiracy, which is the KUDZU CONSPIRACY. Look at the evidence presented here, and make your own decision, of your own free will. But - - DON'T BE FOOLED! Anyone who tells you that the very idea of a Kudzu Conspiracy is ridiculous is either distracted by the other conspiracies designed to keep them from seeing the real conspiracy, or they are a part of the conspiracy. KEEP WATCH -- BE VIGILANT -- BUY LOTS OF GAS POWERED WEED WHACKERS AND REFILL SPOOLS!

What can one person like you or I do? Not much. Maybe sound the alarm or drive a little closer to the side of the road to clear a wider path on the highways of our own villages and towns. I run a little damage settlement business, when I can find the time for it, but friends, fighting this evil green monster is taking up more and more of my time. It's hard for me to make ends meet any more, but my children, and my children's children might not understand that I had to stop working to save them just to put a little food on the table and keep the lights turned on. BUT, if we all work together, maybe we can make a difference. Maybe we can find a cure. Maybe we can make a scientific miracle happen and come up with a way to win the day.

I would like to thank Chad Hower,
a.k.a. Kudzu for this little bit of Kudzu info!
http://www.kudzuworld.com/Bio.en.aspx
(He's not the author of this piece, but he did find it years ago - author unknown)

Wednesday, July 5, 2006

Abe's Grill in Corinth, Mississippi

Review by: Carol Marks of Alabama Improper
http://alabamaimproper.blogspot.com



So one day a friend of mine says, "Hey Carol, let's have lunch." Well, you know I'm not going to turn down an invitation that has anything to do with food, right? OK, I didn't know my friend meant in Corinth, Mississippi.

Wait, it really didn't happen that way but it makes for a good story.

Actually my friend and I planned this trip to Abe's Grill in Corinth, Mississippi for an article I was going to do for Southern Family Magazine. It never did get published but that's because I never wrote the damned thing. I will, and I am writing it. In the meantime, enjoy this little restaurant review I posted at Restaurant Ratingz.

A lunch counter grill with 17 stools is proud to be the oldest diner on highway 72 in Corinth, Mississippi. Abe and Terri Whitfield are the owners and operators of Abe's Grill; they have no other employees and they prefer it that way, as do their customers. I purposefully went to meet the Whitfields and to have lunch of course, I was also writing an article on the place.

It being my first visit there I let Abe fix me whatever he pleased and it was their most popular item he grilled up for me; the ribeye steak sandwich served with fries. Each piece of toasted bread that the juice-dripping, large proportion, tastebud dazzling meat was between were thick; warmed and browned to perfection, right on the grill. The whole meal, along with the fries, were served to me not on a plate but on a piece of parchment paper.


The Whitfields' took me in like I was one of their own regular customers. Abe boasts that "mid south's favorite homemade biscuits" has been prepared here since 1974, and I believe him. Great eats.


There's more to the story, I only had a 1,000 word limit on the Restaurant Ratingz site.

The husband and wife team have been grilling together for 36 years; married for 33 of those years. They built the place themselves on a piece of land that used to be home to the all womens Corona College, which later became a hospital during the Civil War and eventually burned to the ground when the Federal forces left.

Abe told me that when they first started in the dining business they wanted to offer something different and originally had gone with serving their meals on china, but then came along the McDonald's era of styrofoam. The Whitfields', being the smart business people they are, did not give up and throw down the spatula. No, they adapted and went with the flow.

Their diner is so popular that they have had to install a fax line where customers can place orders for breakfast the night before. All the local businesses take advantage of the technology.

The grill is only open Monday - Friday from the hours of 6:00am til 2:00pm. Although, he has been known to stay open a little past 2:00 if some people come in from out of town who are trying to write an article on the place.

While we were there his son came in, around closing time, and showed off the latest addition of the Whitfields', via pictures. Abe and Terri are proud grandparents to not one, but two, tiny tots. The Whitfields' also say the word "retirement" is not in their vocabulary. Thank goodness!

Photos by yours truly.

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Tuesday, July 4, 2006

Southern Sunday Church


By Tammy the Kentucky Gal

Jesus loves me, this I know,
For the Bible tells me so,
Little ones to Him belong,
They are weak,
But He is strong!!!!
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
Yes, Jesus loves me,
The Bible tells me soooooooo!!!

Childish voices ring out from the cavernous Sunday school room....the young woman hugs or pats each little one on the head as they leave clutching their sunday school craft made just for Momma...The Young woman hopes the Momma's don't get too mad with all the sunday school crafts the kids make each week. She works with them the best she can...reading a Bible story and supplying a small snack and a craft to keep the young ones busy while their parents do the serious study of God's word.

She gathers her purse and Bible and joins the throng of people going to the auditorium.

Saying "Hidy do" to all her friends and neighbors. Getting her children settled in the pew.

From the front of the auditorium the piano played by Sister Rita Ann starts bouncing with the opening tune..."Power in the Blood"...The young songleader dressed in his best and only suite steps up to the podium and urges all the people to "Stand on up, cause you can't sing good sittin' down"...the songleader is her dear husband and the congregation loves him and will do most anything he says to do. Today he decides they need to sing in parts and one side against another...and he will cup his ear to hear which side is doing their very best...The people put their very best into it!

There is Power,
Power,
Wonder working Power,
In the blood,
Of the Lamb,
There is Power,
Power,
Wonder working Power,
In the precious blood of the Lamb!!!!

"Now I can't decide which side was the best, you was all sooo good...I can feel the Spirit in this place this mornin'!!" the young songleader says.
The young men of the church pass the offering plate...such a poor community, they don't gather much...but the people give the best they can.
Since it is the 4th of July week-end the songleader invites up one of the small fry, little Miss Caprice who is not afraid to sing...he hands her the microphone and standing there in her little pink skirt and jelly shoes she sings to the top of her little lungs....

"I'm proud to be an American,
Where at least I know I'm free,
And I won't forget the men who died,
that gave that right to me,
And I'll proudly stand up,
Next to you,
and defended her still today,
Cause there ain't no doubt ,
I love this Land,
God Bless the USA!!!!"

After the song...old Brother John stands to his feet...he says "I have a word of testimony...." the young songleader says "Go ahead brother John"
"I've been feelin' mighty down this week...my rhumatiz been botherin' me...had a few problems here and there...but the Good Lord seen me through it...I wanna thank him for all He's been to me!!!"

A chorus of "Amens" erupt from all over the building...several others share a word...

Then the young songleader steps up with the microphone and sings....
The crowd is hushed and worshipful during the song....

"It is finished,
the battle is over,
It is finished, there'll be no more war,
It is finished, the end of the conflict,
It is finished and Jesus is Lord!!!"

The people swell to their feet in applause which embarrasses the young songleader as he walks back to sit down with his wife and children.

The young minister steps forward lifts his Bible and tells the scripture reading for the day...all over the building you hear pages of Bible's being turned and flipped for this Church believes in following along and marking in their Bibles the most important things they learn...he delivers a message that is so soul stirring that Amens can just about rock the roof off of this small church...then most of the congregation makes their way to the alter to repent or pray during the invitation.

After the last person has made their way back to her seat...it is mostly women that go down to pray....then the young woman wakes her sandy haired little boy and stirres up her little red headed girl to go...all the congregation meet outside on the front porch of the old country church and fellowship a few minutes and wish each other well and drive off into the bright Southern day....

Tammy
Kentucky girls are...the thoroughbreds of the South.


Saturday, July 1, 2006

Legacy

I was born in the old Baird Brewer hospital that sits directly across from the big Methodist church in the middle of town. Mama said she was in twilight sleep and doesn't remember much about the whole thing. It was nighttime and she was tired. The really odd thing is that my childhood was waiting for me in that very same building.nurseA couple of years later a new hospital was built on the other side of town and my PaPa died of heart failure. Gaga set up shop in the historic building to manage his real estate holdings right next to the doctors who kept their office space there. Dr. Conyers was the ear nose and throat guy who gagged me with merthiolate when I had a red goozle. Dr. Banks, the surgeon, had his office there as well. Since Mama and Daddy both worked, I spent a lot of summers and days out of school in the place playin' with supervision. Daddy's USDA office was in the basement. Turns out that he became the manager of the farmplace we call home when PaPa died. What a blessing that has been.

Herman was the elevator man at the Baird Brewer building. I reckon he was about seventy or so when he first opened the metal gate to that ancient elevator and took me for a ride to the other floors. That hair of his was white as snow framing a kind black face that loved me in spite of the fact that I was a privileged white girl. After vacation bible school or on a whim, I would come over to the office and explore what used to be the hospital. Herman had a wooden stool in the elevator, but he rarely sat on it. There was a big old wooden knob that he operated to take us up or down the guts of the building...always smiling that he had company for the ride. "Yes'm" he would say. "Step right in here Miss Janie." I explored every inch of that place in between playing office with my grandma.

Nurse Hathaway worked there and she was my Gaga's good friend. She wore starched white uniforms and her head was crowned with braids that grew gray with age. Miss Jack was a nurse too. Those gals had some mighty good times together. Gaga took to traveling and visited across the pond many times. She always told me that when I graduated from high school we would go to Europe together. As fate would have it, the money was all gone by then so I went to college in Memphis instead. I'm almost a nurse.

Back when I was a kid me and Daddy talked about heaven and hell and all that stuff. He told me that his humble opinion was that it's what you make of it right here on earth. The older I get, the more I see that great truth in sunsets and sunrises and the heat of summer or the chill of winter snows. It's all about the journey.snow tractor

The Southern Beauty Shop

by Tammy the Kentucky Gal
(a new Dew contributer!)


Oh, for a Southern Beauty shop...where you go in the door that is decorated with a pretty flower wreath and step into what might be someone's home...but it's not, it is The Southern Beauty Shop.

This shop is ran by Debbie Kay Wilson sole owner.

Debbie Kay knows everyone in this town. Knows your name and exactly how you like your hair...and even though she knows that, tries her best to talk you into some Big hair just the same.

The smell is of warm coconut oil and hair spray...a neat booth with all her tools of the trade and her precious things around it...a picture of her grandchild (with big hair) and a fish swimming in a bowl with blue shiny rocks at the bottom. A full length swivel mirror divides the space from the shampoo bowl and dryers, and the manicure table with a bright array of polish's...she believes in bright polish too...don't dare offend her by asking for something pale! A door to the side proclaims itself "The Electric Beach"...it is the door to the suntan bed that she has run for the past 5 years with fresh hot bulbs...no second rate bulbs for her customers.
She has a customer...always...she is a very popular lady in these parts. Ms. Myrtle Hill is getting her Sadidy Updo...she plays the organ at the church and must look her very best.

"Hidy do" Debbie Kay says as you walk in, "I'll be with you in a minute, hon".

"Oh, no problem...I've got all day" you say and walk over to the comfy arm chair she has right near her because she is such a social person. On the table beside the chair is all kinds of magazines...you know the kind...Glamour, Cosmo or Best Hair of the 90's or Millennium Hair. You thumb through these while a soft rock station plays softly on her boom box set in the corner.

The door to "The Electric Beach" opens, and out walks one of the younger set. A flushed and tanned southern bell in her daisy dukes and flip flops.
Debbie Kay looks around from her teasing of Ms. Myrtle and says, "How was it today Cinda, gal?"

"Oooo girl, I coulda laid in there all day...but I gotta get on down to the park and help decorate for the fourth of July dance."

Ms. Myrtle humphs and sniffs for effect...while she swings her leg to the rhythm of Faith Hill's "This Kiss" She really does love to get down and dance herself...just no use in the church and this youngin knowing it.
Debbie Kay pins in the last bobby pin for Ms. Myrtle and says "All done, Hon!"....Ms. Myrtle walks over to the full length mirror and preens...her hair the color of strawberries in the snow...kind of an ashy red and she has on her purple top and matching slacks with a silver sparkling belt around her fat little tummy...she flashes her Cherry Red fingernails as she turns this way and that.

"Very good today Debbie Kay...think I'll run on down to the park myself, see if I can help."

Debbie Kay waves bye with hot pink tipped nails.

As soon as the door closes she says, "Everybody knows she is after Ralph Stenson and he is in charge of that shindig."

We giggle together as she fluffs and cuts my hair just the way I like it. I look at her in the mirror, and say "I sure do like your shade of lipstick...I just can't get it to stay on right."

Debbie looks at herself and as soon as she finishes with my hair goes over to her spangled purse and retrieves her make-up bag..."Let me show you how" she says.

"My daughter showed me how to do it...first you get a lip pencil and line your lips...then you fill in with a lipstick...then top with gloss...my daughter can even eat and drink without messin up a thang...she holds the fork just so and drinks real easy like!"

"Well, I'll go on down to the Walmart and get me some of those supplies and give it a try" says I.

"Girl, you go on and do that...cause we all just wanna look nice now don't we?" she winks.

The soft tinkle of the bell announces her next customer...an updo for a young girl getting ready for the dance...and a sultry Southern Summer Night.....

Kentucky girls are...the thoroughbreds of the South.