Mississippi Memories...Part 2

So the Christmas holiday has come and gone. Everyone has basically either gone back to work or is wondering how much closer to oblivion we'll all get when we go over the fiscal cliff. Have you ever noticed that nothing is ever decent to watch on TV immediately following Christmas? I went ahead and yakked about that on my YouTube page (www.youtube.com/creamcitysista1970). I am at an age where I don't care about all these damn college football bowl games leading up to the big boys on New Year's Day. Play them games, make lots of dough for your schools, and get off my TV! (Kick Stanford's ass in the Rose Bowl, okay, Wisconsin?)

Since typing my blog late on Christmas Eve, I have recalled a few more memories about my late dad's home state, Mississippi. You know, the one state in the US that has four "eyes" and still can't "see" how screwed they really are? Forever steeped in racial backwardsness, the Magnolia State is at or near the bottom in education, health and other subjects, yet is among the top in obesity rates (look it up). Home to BB King, Elvis, Brett Favre, and of course, Oprah Winfrey, you would think this sate could do more to improve its image. 

One case in point was this small grocery store near my grandma's house, named after its proprietor, Thomas W. Gee. It could also be used as a local hangout for some folks who had plenty of time on their hands.  Many times folks would get the combo of getting some groceries and gas before heading home or wherever they were going that day. The last time I saw this place (around 1995) they had added a laundromat to the facility. Of course, that would stay open about as long as the store is. They weren't open 24 hours.  Like many of these small country businesses, they were mainly run by white folks. My grandparents had been there a host of times in the past, never having and negative sayings toward one another.  I got to first meet Mr. Gee during the first time my dad took me with him to Mississippi. The man was portly and white-haired, yet was happy to meet me. Over the years I kept coming down there, I always made a stop there, usually to buy some ice cream or something to keep my sweet tooth satisfied for a time.  Driving to this store from my grandma's house would take you about roughly 10 minutes. The road by her house was like a lot of back roads in the South: covered with red sand and/or dirt with rocks. You can hear someone was coming a mile away. That was later paved over with modern blacktop with yellow strips in the middle.  I was dumb enough one summer day to what folks did when they had no other alternative to get to their destination: walking. This obviously would take MUCH longer than driving.  Oh yeah, I did this during the middle of the day, at its hottest peak. I was sweating a bit doing all that walking. Felt like one of those Kenyan or Ethiopian long distance runners for a moment. It took me about 30 minutes walking there, however the trip back to grandma's house...I had to take a few breaks coming back...before one of my uncles spotted me walking back, picked me up in his car and drove me back to grandma's air-conditioned house. Relaxation time!!!

My cousin can back me up on this one. We got to pick some blackberries out behind grandma's house with Grandma and my dad. We experienced first-hand how its done, too. For the next several hours, the four of us picked about several bushels of this fruit that she loves to make pies with, which were on vines with spiky thorns. I swear, I hated getting pricked so much I wanted to just hibernate for the rest of the time there.  The thorns weren't the only things we city folks had to deal with. As we were picking those blackberries, we got to face getting bit by a bunch of red bugs. The longer we picked, the more those bugs feasted on our flesh. What a disadvantage of country life!! I have to mention my cousin had an urgent call...from Mother Nature. Grandma had the keys to the house, and she wasn't budging. So, he found a nice spot by a tree a few yards away, pulled down his pants.....pushed VERY HARD....plop! The flies were a-flying!!!!! Yeah, I can imagine how you're thinking about gross it is to see anyone make a backdoor deposit in the woods. He even had to use a few large tree leaves to clean up! This is 100% TRUE!!!!! Hours after all that commotion, we were in the air-conditioned bedroom looking at all the red bugs bites we had gotten. His legs were looking like polka dots!! We spent the rest of our stay there inside, far away from those bugs.

Including blackberry pie, my grandma loved to bake, especially making these pan-fried biscuits in this heavy, black cast-iron skillet. So I like a few Southern traditions, like how they make foods like this. When she was able to do so in the morning, she'd make these biscuits from scratch with some bacon and eggs with  a  HUGE jar of Happy Boy Syrup. Something to start your day with, for sure! Never mind using sticks of butter, she used these palm-sized margarine packets! One year, I had noticed that she had stopped making those breakfast pastries. I asked her why she didn't make them anymore.  Next thing you know, she's in the kitchen grabbing that cast-iron skillet, beginning to make those damn biscuits! And yours truly had no choice to eat the whole pan! My grandma was something, wasn't she?

I was thankful I got to see my grandma during Easter weekend 1995. She was placed in a medical center in Carthage due to her failing health. I could hear her moaning over the pain that was dislodged inside of her. Her long, snow-white hair was the only thing that looked well kept. My uncles Doss and Edd, who both lived in -state, kept a close eye on the house. With Grandpa passed on five years earlier, there was no one to occupy it. My family were all close to Grandma, the patriarch of our clan. Social Security records allegedly have her birth date as April 1, 1905, though my dad has told me she was actually born five years earlier, in 1900. She has lived quite a life. That spring of 1995 would be the last time I would get to see my Grandma...alive. Several weeks later, Edd called me at my college home in New Orleans and gave me the news...she was gone. I knew I had to go back up there to pay my last respects. The funeral for her took place that weekend at a church in nearby Conway, MS, near where Grandpa was buried, on a warm Saturday afternoon in April. I saw some of the family that either drove or flew down from Milwaukee to say goodbye. We were all there. The church was quite packed for the funeral service. A lot of people knew her well over the years. I also just came down with a cold. Perfect timing huh? Being sick AND sad at a funeral. Just great!

I admit looking back at it now I admit I was stupid for keeping my guard up. Why the hell was I playing it cool and not showing any signs of remorse? Yes, I have feelings and at that time I failed to let them show. I should have cried at my grandma's funeral as well as my own mother's funeral. Shame on me for not realizing that it is okay to cry in public sometimes. Probably have so many tears inside of me from my mother's funeral to graduating from high school and college to some current-day moments including having signs of depression and severe lonliness. It appears I have dark circles around my eyes because of this. No wonder my eyes look the way they do. I believe I had to find out the hard way about having feelings. Dad never explained that to me; how to love, how to be inspired, how to make my own decisions. I can only reminisce about the past so much without shedding a few tears about how different it could/should/would have been.

When the year 2013 arrives, it's time to make some new memories.