grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Love Shack baby!

By

Nana was born on Valentine’s Day. How perfect! The day of love and happiness. Growing up, the Valentine’s Day parties in elementary school with the cute little cards and yummy cupcakes were all secondary to Nana’s Valentine’s Day Birthday. We eagerly showered her with homemade cards, candy, a cake and presents – along with an off key rendition of Happy Birthday.


When Nana and Papa Creecy moved to Keiser from the home place, they bought the brick house next door to the Grahams. I thought it was the prettiest house in Keiser. It had a very cool finished-out attic which became our hideout. Staci and I played with our barbies there and listened to music during bunkin’ parties. There was no furniture in the attic, other than an oversized bright yellow wooden rocker. The house must have been built around that rocker – it was there when they bought it. And it was part of the deal when my mother sold it, after they died. The attic stairs were super steep and small – a secret little stairwell – that chair wasn’t going anywhere. The Mystery of the Attic Chair… I’m sure had Nancy Drew known, she would have solved the puzzle. I bet it’s still there.

In junior high, the attic became the site of many, many games of 7 Minutes in Heaven…Keiser,Arkansas-Style. Our version was really more a combination of Spin the Bottle and Thirty Seconds in the Closet. We all sat in a big circle surrounding a coke bottle in the center. We turned the overhead light off – probably because we were too embarrassed to see ourselves. Understandably, this drove Nana crazy. She would flip the switch at the bottom of the stairs and yell up to the attic space, “Taaaaaaaalya!!!” We would all giggle, “Oh sorry!” like we had no idea how that light turned itself off, wait a couple of minutes, and flip the switch again from upstairs. She couldn’t (or wouldn’t) climb those steep stairs, and we knew it.  We took turns spinning the bottle, and the person the bottle landed on was the lucky recipient of a few seconds in the attic closet, in the shadows.


We spent lots of weekend nights up there – our little group of friends – Becky, Anita, Trina, Craig, Graham, Judy, Charles M, Timmy and others I’m sure. It was far from heavenly, but it was the closest we had been. It was fun and different and exciting at a time when we were innocent and full of teenage curiosity.  No one spoke of what went on after a turn in that closet, but I doubt there are any big secrets. Timmy was always cute and nervous in that dark closet. He was funny, but shy. A turn with Craig was like 7 minutes of Botox. He nearly ate our lips off. Ruth was likely starving him – he was always in trouble with his mom… He definitely would have been punished had she known about Nana’s attic. We each kissed everyone eventually – we didn’t care which boy it landed on. They were all like our brothers… That game of thirty seconds in the closet was our important entre into dating and eventually true love. 


I’m sure young teens today have outgrown Spin the Bottle. They are too busy texting and living in an online world.

Norfork Lake

Nana was much like Lucy Ricardo – funny, always laughing and typically into some type of mischief. I think Annabelle the Schnauzer must take after her…She was strong and faithful – at church every time the doors were open. She was loved by all – including all the kids up in the attic. Even though she was sick for much of her life – brain surgery in her 20s, leukemia in her 60s and a terrible headache nearly every day in between, Nana always had a beautiful smile on her face.  And something funny to say. She never tried to be funny. She just was. Everyone who came into contact with her was better for it, and I miss her every day. Of course my mother has turned into her, so she isn’t really ever very far away. 


I love this quote from Oscar Wilde…”All women become like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.  No man does.  That is his.”



Happy Valentine’s Day & Happy Birthday Nana!


xoxo


talya




Musical Pairings:


The B52s, “Love Shack”

Rick Springfield, “Jessie’s Girl”
Jamey Johnson, “In Color”


Best Tip of the Day

By

We groomed Kelsey and Tate to be Razorbacks from birth. Growing up, we took them to football and basketball games, hoping that someday they would choose to go to college there. It didn’t work on Kelsey – we weren’t really surprised. She was too much of a Texas girl, actually preferring 115 degree days, flip flops and burnt orange. It was a good fit for her, and once John got over the initial shock, I think he agreed. John is a Razorback alumnus who still has childhood memories of tough Hog-Horn games from the ’60s. Kelsey brought John a huge longhorn flag, during her first trip home as a freshman. He was speechless. “What do I do with that?” He asked me. We flew it off the front porch on Texas-OU weekends. She seemed ok with that. We continued to hold out hope for Tate. Red was his color.

Tate toured several colleges his senior year before making his decision – Oklahoma, Oklahoma State, University of Colorado, Colorado State. He had already ruled out all Texas schools – he wanted to escape the heat. He wanted a smaller city. He wanted to see trees and nature. We never pushed or threatened or begged. There were no tears. We just silently prayed. For years. We wasted no prayers on health – we were dedicated to the college decision. We thought his entire weekly laundry load of red Razorback wear was a good sign. We crossed our fingers. 

He loved the State of Arkansas. Since birth he had vacationed at Norfork Lake in Mountain Home, as well as Hot Springs. It was his second home. Even though most of his friends were headed to Texas Tech, we held out hope. Finally, after weighing all his choices, he announced he had decided to go to the University of Arkansas. We were cool. We didn’t act as thrilled as we felt. When the acceptance letter came, we didn’t call the hogs or skip and go naked or anything. We were cool. John and I didn’t chest bump or high five or express our sheer joy – at least not in front of Tate. We did not want to do anything to jinx ourselves. Not until we moved in his few boxes and drove off – then I may have done a cartwheel outside Maple Hill East. It was one of the happiest moments of our lives. Tate was a Razorback.

He jumped right in, met lots of new friends, memorized the Fight Song, learned to drive to Target and found a place to get his hair cut. Pinch me… John was walking a bit taller.

The nest was clean and quiet which was bit strange, but really pretty nice. Why did my friends mope about? Isn’t this the goal? Don’t you want your kids to leave? I’ll never understand. I knew plenty of people who couldn’t pry their kids out of the house. Or, they showed back up with grandkids in tow. All that hard parenting work had led to this peaceful moment in time. Nice. 

Within one month, Tate called home and said, “Mom, I have some news…”, he sounded strange. “Oh, no, no, no.” What could it be? He’s wrecked his SUV or he hates school… I felt a bit nauseous. There was a pause.

“I’m a vegetarian.”

WHAT??? SERIOUSLY??? At Arkansas? “Did you secretively transfer to UT? AreYouInAustin???!!! 

How does that happen? I had completely trusted this school and the people of this state with my only son, and within thirty days he had lost all core food values??

Kids don’t go off to Arkansas and become vegetarians! They just don’t! They go off to college and gain the Freshman 15 eating pizza all night. Tate was a full-time-red-meat-eating-carnivore. What about Herman’s Ribhouse? He loved that place! That gigantic plate o’ribs with the Texas toast??? And his regular diet of Chipotle burritos as big as my head stuffed with brisket and chicken? This was bad.

Kelsey had been a vegetarian for years now – since she was in junior high. She gave up meat for Lent one year and never looked back. But she attended the University of Texas – in Austin. It was a prerequisite. Everyone in Austin was a vegetarian. The food was organic and local and blessed by tree huggers. They try to keep Austin weird. It’s the city motto. But in Arkansas???? WhereHadWeGoneWrong??? John and I sulked around all night, as if we had found out he was making meth on a hot plate in his dorm room.

Tate had his reasons for this drastic lifestyle redesign, one of which was his Anthropology teacher had ‘challenged’ the class to do this. And apparently that’s all it took for him to jump on board with both feet. Totally committed. Do not pass Go, do not collect $100. His teacher suggested it, and he was in. I needed this professor’s phone number. She must be hot. I would just start feeding suggestions to Tate via his Anthropology teacher.  We had worked for 18 years to make him a Razorback. Carefully, nonchalantly, tiptoeing around the Hogs, knowing full well if we even pointed north up Central Expressway toward the Red River, there would be no way it would happen. Also, apparently, he felt Tyson Chicken was not treating its animals humanely. What were they teaching him at that school?! My child who LIVED on bags of buffalo wing flavored frozen Tyson Chicken strips in high school? And, he went on and on about how the cows in South America ate better than the people there. I didn’t care about those people or cows! We don’t get our beef from South America! Let them worry about their own people. I was concerned about myself and my son and how this particular decision was going to change my holiday meal planning! Who WAS this person and what had happened to Tate? I did not recognize his voice on the telephone. He was worried about international beef grazing? When he came home for his Thanksgiving portabella mushroom, he actually made his bed.

Sadly, our turkey that Thanksgiving was the smallest one yet. But I treated it with the utmost respect in case the kids were watching me brine it. Kelsey and Tate both ate only side dishes, which I was forced to make with water and air instead of cream of chicken soup and bacon fat. All delicious holiday sides include cream of chicken soup. Everyone knows that. Still a vegetarian on Christmas Eve, he passed on John’s fabulous beef tenderloin, smoked on the Green Egg. His best tenderloin yet. We enjoyed lots of leftovers while Tate ate vegetarian beans all month. He looked gaunt.
In a month, Tate will be off a week for his first college Spring Break. While everyone else goes snow skiing or enjoys a caribbean cruise, our spring break tradition is Oaklawn Park in Hot Springs. We always go to the horse races. One year – when Tate was in elementary school – we discussed changing up our routine and possibly going somewhere else. Tate was distraught. “No, I want to go to Hot Springs. It’s the only place I can earn any money.” We raised this child right. Staci and I went to the track as children with our parents. Daddy was skilled at picking the horses, and he tried to share his knowledge with us. He gave us a small ‘allowance’ for the track, teaching us to gamble at an early age. And then we passed this skill down to our kids.  Even as young child, Tate studied the racing program and tip sheets the entire night before the race, ranked the jockeys for each race, selected all his horses and budgeted his money. He never spent this sort of time on his homework. Now I just wait and see who Tate likes before placing my bets.

Tate’s money was always for picking horses and placing bets. My money, or John’s money, or Nana’s money, was for ice cream, (mistreated) chicken strips and everyone’s favorite – the Oaklawn reuben sandwich. At $6.50, the reuben sandwich at the track is the best bet of the day. By a long shot. At the end of the trip, Tate always left with more money than he started. He was little Thomas Tate. Still is. Daddy would be proud. 

For the first time, Tate will actually be old enough to place his own bets this year. In our family, this is a proud rite of passage – like voting for the first time, graduating from high school, or making that first paycheck. Placing a bet! It’s a big thing. 

Tate called last week to discuss a dentist appointment and his housing for next year. He sounded happy and mature and totally together. At the very end of our conversation, as we began to hang up the phone, almost as an afterthought, he said, “Oh yeah, mom. By the way, I’m eating meat again.” Oh yay oh yay oh yay!! I knew he couldn’t resist those Reuben Sandwiches! Of course, I didn’t act excited. I was cool. I didn’t want to jinx it.


Tate’s Mom

Musical Pairings:

Dan Fogelberg, “Run for the Roses”
William Edwin Douglas, “Arkansas Fight Song”




You can take the girl out of Mississippi County, BUT…….

By

Look Who We Found 
After the Game!
Yesterday was devoted to all things Baylor! The Tate girls crossed the Brazos at Waco for some smoking hot Lady Bear basketball. Brittney Griner is truly amazing – she should be the first woman Dallas Maverick – Dirk’s mini-me. She has already perfected his signature fade-away. And she does Barbara Tate’s famous hook shot from back in the day. The Aggies completely forgot to show up capping off a perfect day. It’s always a treat to beat an Aggie in any sport – basketball, football, golf or even a drinking game with the Aggie neighbors! Of course a trip to Baylor would be incomplete without a visit to traditional Waco hot spots. 

First lunch at Poppa Rollo’s Pizza – “the best pizza on Earth”. The hamburger, onion and jalapeño pizza would be my death row meal – not that Texas allows a choice anymore. One prisoner recently ruined it for everyone. We chowed down on the perfect pizza while watching The Little Rascals – a Poppa Rollo’s tradition. We cleansed our palates with pre-game Big O’s from George’s – the best beer on Earth. Cold ginormous frosted glasses – 3 Big O’s for only $9!!! It was a virtual time warp. My mother looked positively petite beside her huge beer, but she managed to chug it down without a booster seat. Over at the smoky bar, I could envision my first ex-husband’s fraternity brother drinking down an entire bottle of ketchup (topped off with tabasco). He did it because he could. And we played many electronic bowling games at George’s. It was addictive. It’s a miracle on the Brazos that any of us graduated. It took ketchup boy a long time… Staci and I were rudely jolted back from our memory lane trip by the young cute boy-waiter who called us “Ma’am”. Hmmmmm. What? We aren’t Ma’ams! It was that hideous warty thing on my hand that was giving me away!!! I knew it! Staci was just guilty by association.

And of course – a quick trip inside the Baylor Bookstore was warranted to restock bear wear and face tattoos. My inventory was low. From there, a windy stroll across Waco Creek to the Bear Pit. Waco Creek runs through campus from Eighth Street to Fifth Street. It’s really a neat, semi-natural, Baylor feature although oftentimes it is algae-ridden. It was extra clean today, on this coldest day of winter so far. Naturally, the bears were hibernating – we saw them inside all toasty and piled up together. Baylor has the most adorable mascot of all. Really. You know it’s true. Followed by the lovable hog of course. I don’t even know what an Aggie is.

As I studied the creek, I was reminded of the NoZe Brothers – a Baylor secret society founded in the 1920s as a joke surrounding a certain freshman with a very large nose. His nose was so big a club was formed around it – impressive. They are an irreverent and disrespectful group – extremely popular at Baylor. They poke fun at the Baylor yearbook, newspaper, faculty, student organizations, city of Waco and especially the Southern Baptist Convention. Let’s face it, through the years the NoZe Bros have had no shortage of Baptist Baylor/Waco topics with which to take aim, such as David Koresh and his Davidians, that murdered basketball player, etc. And the Baptists practically ask for it. 

The brotherhood’s pranks are legendary. Based on the seriousness of their underground activities combined with the lack of humor of the current administration, they have occasionally been completely banned from campus. Through the years, they have crashed events such as chapel, homecoming and “Sing”. Their pranks have included turning the fountain pink (pink is the signature NoZe color), decorating the Quadrangle with huge NoZe glasses, and disrupting chapel with a donkey and a 4,000 ping pong ball drop. And when the statute of honorable Judge Baylor is wrapped in toilet paper, everyone knowz the NoZe Bros are to blame. But no one knowz who they are.

It is forbidden for a NoZe Brother to reveal his identity to a non-member. The members are always disguised with large fake noses, beards, crazy hats, etc. Each semester, the brotherhood hosts UnRush for non-members to present themselves for possible membership. Acceptance is limited and membership requirements are crazy ridiculous. There are, however, a handful of honorary NoZe Brothers – which are called Ornery Brothers. Dan Rather was Brother CBS Evening NoZe, Billy Graham is Brother Cracker NoZe Graham, and Robert Griffin III is HeismaNoZe Trophy. 

When I attended Baylor in the early ’80s, the NoZe Brotherhood was fairly active, semi- banned from campus, but not to be controlled. During my spring sophomore semester, everyone was buzzing about an upcoming NoZe Bros gathering, announced in their underground newspaper – The Rope – which poked fun at the official Baylor newspaper – The Lariat. It was great fun to get your hands on the NoZe prose. A meeting was planned at midnight at the creek- all students were welcome. My roommates and I were pumped – we secured a ‘front row seat’ on the concrete retaining wall. The creek  was not very clean, with a few inches of water and leaves in the bottom. Quite a crowd had begun to gather, curious to see what the NoZe Brothers were up to now.

Just past midnight a glow appeared in the tunnel at the end of the creek which snaked underneath campus to the Brazos River. The NoZe Brothers were marching, carrying torches, and chanting something nonsensical. They looked eerily like the KKK walking through that tunnel deep below Baylor, in the dark night. As they approached us, they began their “program”, speaking primarily in NoZe code – blasting the administration for the ridiculous new ugly fountain. I had no idea what they were talking about for most of the “show” but they were absolutely hilarious. Who were these guys? I wonder if I knew any of them? Did I sit beside any of them in my classes? 

Suddenly head NoZe Bro walked right up to me, grabbed my hand, and jerked me to my feet and into the creek. OMG were they kidnapping me? If I had to go inside that tunnel I would freak – I just knew there were Brazos River rats in there. They quickly wrapped a cape around my shoulders – like a velvet cape a queen would wear – and placed this big obnoxious crown on my head. I was embarrassed! Then king of the NoZe – I had no idea of his official title – paraded me through the wet creek and announced that I was Miss Middle Class White Trash America. Oh my! How did he know I was from Mississippi County? Really, it was hilarious. I made the most of it, glad no one could see my red face in the glow of the torches. I never came into direct contact with the NoZe Bros again, to my knowledge. Or maybe I married one? Who noZe? They are totally sworn to secrecy.

Later, while working at State Bank – an entirely different kind of brotherhood – we all had nicknames. Maybe it was a natural progression that came from working together so long. My nickname was The Snoot. BecauseIhaveSuchaBigNose.  A very NoZe Brother-ish name. And I also wrote an underground bank newspaper – The Snoot Report – available to only a very few and primarily for my own entertainment. The NoZe Bros have always inspired me – since that night in the creek.

I tried to find The Rope yesterday but never saw one.. I bet the Bros are having a heyday with self-ordained Robert Jeffress, pastor of First Baptist Church Dallas. I’m sure Jeffress thinks the NoZe Brotherhood is a cult, along with those pesky Mormans. He provides no shortage of fodder, I’m certain. I wonder if the NoZe Bros need a blogger? I knowz the perfect candidate. 


Sic ’em Bears!

The Snoot


Musical Pairings:


Louis Armstrong, “When the Saints Go Marching In”
Marty Robbins, “Cross the Brazos at Waco”
Jake Holmes, “Be a Pepper”












Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!