Mississippi Memories on Christmas Eve
It's Christmas Eve 2012, and I'm watching the climax of the classic It's A Wonderful Life. When George Bailey's life was down in the dumps, he tells an angel that he'd wish he'd never been born. Slowly but surely, he slowly realizes just how important his life was. "Remember...no man is a failure when he has friends", as the message the would-be angel Clarence tells George Bailey, aka Jimmy Stewart. His friends and family help good ol' George out with his problems. Now, I might not have as many situations than George Bailey did in that movie,however I can say that I will have some more friends than I started with. I spent the greater part of this evening with a friend on facebook who is originally from Tuepelo, Mississippi...the same town where Elvis Presley was born. We chatted about life in the Magnolia state, which is where my dad's side of the family came from. Although I haven been unable to return there since 1996, I do have a few memories of being there in my younger years...all weren't great.
There's one thing I know that I loved in Mississppi - Luvell Ice Cream. At the time, the one-gallon buckets would always feature the distinctive red labeling and a window on the lid shaped like the outline of Mississippi to show what the flavor is. Since My dad and I would normally come visit my grandma in Carthage, MS between late June and early July, getting some of that type of ice cream was a plus to help quench the long, hot summer days. In case you're wondering, my special flavor is butter pecan, always has. We would occasionally drive past its manufacturing plant in nearby Kosciusko (roughly 25 miles) once or twice, depending on if we were heading toward Grandma's house or Interstate 55 to eventually return back to Milwaukee. I think it was there when I started experimenting with what would go well with ice cream, including corn flakes, blackberry pie, and without a doubt my oddest choice, beer. Something for my calcium and my alcohol intake! What would you want me to do down there? It was summertime, and this was in my high school days.
When you live in a large city like Milwaukee (my hometown), you see a lot of everything that goes by, right? When my dad first took me with him to Mississippi in the late 1970s, I almost complained of culture shock! The serene stillness of the countryside, all that open space with an endless forest of trees...and the rotten stench of animal waste!! Grandma had some animals right by her home back in the day, such as hogs, chickens and roosters. My bedroom was literally facing the animals' roosting place. Add a gust of wind blowing nearby and I'd swear someone took a large dump in the indoor bathroom. It was disgusting! There was no comparison! She and Grandpa also had this bucket in the kitchen that was used for the remains of breakfast, dinner or whatever and feed it to the animals. You'd know it by one word...slop. YUCK!!! Then there was the countless mosquitoes that buzzed all around the house, day or night. Wasn't enough fly paper or swatters to help solve this. Hell, a horsefly zoomed slowly right by my left ear one evening while watching TV. A fly went into my ear while sleeping, too. Don't forget all those damn crickets at night...especially on a moonless night. I might as well mention their house was in the backwoods, which I guess is normal for Southern life. How could I forget about the favorite type of tobacco my grandparents used...snuff? Take about a spoonful into your mouth and start spitting out brown saliva all day long. This where the spit cups came in handy, too. One could easily be made from an empty milk jug. My cousin and I tried some a few years later, and we promptly spat it out. It made me sleepy.
Small town life in Mississippi can be either easy or rough. There might be one major place of employment there, so that can wind up becoming a Hobson's choice there. Businesses can and do close up at earlier times, so you can agree that unless you have some friends with cars and/or money, time will go pretty slow. This state has a lot of blink-and-you'll-miss-them towns, so I feel their pity when it comes to boredom. Sundays? Let me guess the answer in a word...CHURCH!! There's no place as spiritually crazed than the South. Like what else are you going to do in a small Southern town? Would I have been a different person if I was raised there? Who would know? If I came out down there they'd possibly give me the "evil eye" and ex-communicate me from the church and the rest of town! Assholes do come from everywhere!! This opinion is coming from someone who was born and raised in the Midwest. I'm sure them Southerners have a different opinion about us Northerners as well.
Everyone know about karma, right? I found out the hard way one early Saturday evening in July 1986. I was hanging with my cousins while our fathers drank beer and talked about, whatever. Near the entrance to my grandma's house was this massive space used for a garden. Wabbling near the garden was a sizeable 15lb. turkey minding its business. While I didn't bet anyone, I felt like causing a little trouble. So, I sneaked up behind the turkey by this barbed-wire fence that separated the garden and the extra space of land used mainly for people to park their cars. WHAM!!! I kicked that turkey right up its ass, causing it to fly a good 10 feet. Then, karma reared its ugly head only a few seconds later. Following the turkey kick, I ran back toward the house, not paying attention to my flying arms when I felt a scraping on my right hand. It was cut on an exposed part of barbed wire, and started bleeding immediately. Nothing serious, but looking back at it now, it told me not to be the turkey when playing with animals!
It's getting a bit late, and I've been blogging for several hours. My neck is getting more sore by the moment. There are more stories to tell about Mississippi, But I shall save them for another day!!!
There's one thing I know that I loved in Mississppi - Luvell Ice Cream. At the time, the one-gallon buckets would always feature the distinctive red labeling and a window on the lid shaped like the outline of Mississippi to show what the flavor is. Since My dad and I would normally come visit my grandma in Carthage, MS between late June and early July, getting some of that type of ice cream was a plus to help quench the long, hot summer days. In case you're wondering, my special flavor is butter pecan, always has. We would occasionally drive past its manufacturing plant in nearby Kosciusko (roughly 25 miles) once or twice, depending on if we were heading toward Grandma's house or Interstate 55 to eventually return back to Milwaukee. I think it was there when I started experimenting with what would go well with ice cream, including corn flakes, blackberry pie, and without a doubt my oddest choice, beer. Something for my calcium and my alcohol intake! What would you want me to do down there? It was summertime, and this was in my high school days.
When you live in a large city like Milwaukee (my hometown), you see a lot of everything that goes by, right? When my dad first took me with him to Mississippi in the late 1970s, I almost complained of culture shock! The serene stillness of the countryside, all that open space with an endless forest of trees...and the rotten stench of animal waste!! Grandma had some animals right by her home back in the day, such as hogs, chickens and roosters. My bedroom was literally facing the animals' roosting place. Add a gust of wind blowing nearby and I'd swear someone took a large dump in the indoor bathroom. It was disgusting! There was no comparison! She and Grandpa also had this bucket in the kitchen that was used for the remains of breakfast, dinner or whatever and feed it to the animals. You'd know it by one word...slop. YUCK!!! Then there was the countless mosquitoes that buzzed all around the house, day or night. Wasn't enough fly paper or swatters to help solve this. Hell, a horsefly zoomed slowly right by my left ear one evening while watching TV. A fly went into my ear while sleeping, too. Don't forget all those damn crickets at night...especially on a moonless night. I might as well mention their house was in the backwoods, which I guess is normal for Southern life. How could I forget about the favorite type of tobacco my grandparents used...snuff? Take about a spoonful into your mouth and start spitting out brown saliva all day long. This where the spit cups came in handy, too. One could easily be made from an empty milk jug. My cousin and I tried some a few years later, and we promptly spat it out. It made me sleepy.
Small town life in Mississippi can be either easy or rough. There might be one major place of employment there, so that can wind up becoming a Hobson's choice there. Businesses can and do close up at earlier times, so you can agree that unless you have some friends with cars and/or money, time will go pretty slow. This state has a lot of blink-and-you'll-miss-them towns, so I feel their pity when it comes to boredom. Sundays? Let me guess the answer in a word...CHURCH!! There's no place as spiritually crazed than the South. Like what else are you going to do in a small Southern town? Would I have been a different person if I was raised there? Who would know? If I came out down there they'd possibly give me the "evil eye" and ex-communicate me from the church and the rest of town! Assholes do come from everywhere!! This opinion is coming from someone who was born and raised in the Midwest. I'm sure them Southerners have a different opinion about us Northerners as well.
Everyone know about karma, right? I found out the hard way one early Saturday evening in July 1986. I was hanging with my cousins while our fathers drank beer and talked about, whatever. Near the entrance to my grandma's house was this massive space used for a garden. Wabbling near the garden was a sizeable 15lb. turkey minding its business. While I didn't bet anyone, I felt like causing a little trouble. So, I sneaked up behind the turkey by this barbed-wire fence that separated the garden and the extra space of land used mainly for people to park their cars. WHAM!!! I kicked that turkey right up its ass, causing it to fly a good 10 feet. Then, karma reared its ugly head only a few seconds later. Following the turkey kick, I ran back toward the house, not paying attention to my flying arms when I felt a scraping on my right hand. It was cut on an exposed part of barbed wire, and started bleeding immediately. Nothing serious, but looking back at it now, it told me not to be the turkey when playing with animals!
It's getting a bit late, and I've been blogging for several hours. My neck is getting more sore by the moment. There are more stories to tell about Mississippi, But I shall save them for another day!!!
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