Memories - grace grits and gardening

Dear Daddy

February 1, 2013 By Talya Tate Boerner

Yesterday you missed another birthday. Your 76th.

Nineteen years flew by in a blur. Tate is nineteen now. So much has happened in nineteen years—some incredible, some impossible to imagine.

Farming has changed. You won’t believe this but we now have………..round cotton bales! Craziness.

And other farming news, something I never dreamed would happen, the Wilson family sold Lee Wilson & Company. Sold out to a huge landowner from Missouri. The beginning of a new era for Mississippi County.

And speaking of home, Osceola has a gigantic, new Wal-Mart sitting in a field near the interstate. Yes, this means another tired empty building in town. I haven’t been inside the new store yet, but according to my Facebook friends, no one can find anything.

Yes, you missed out on the phenomenon that is Facebook. I’m not going to explain it, you wouldn’t like it anyway.

You were spared the tragedy of September 11. We were attacked by terrorists on our own soil, bringing the country together just for a moment before returning to bickering among ourselves.

And, by the way, our country and entire planet is suffering from global warming.

Oh, with respect to the planets, Pluto is no longer one.

There are nineteen years’ worth of regular, everyday, amazing things I could broadcast about your four grandchildren, too many for this letter. Just know you live on in them.

Many of your friends are gone now too—Clide, Bert, Charles Crigger…Maybe you celebrated your birthday with them? Maybe that’s why we’ve had this recent crazy weather?

Grace Grits and Gardening

Musical Pairing:

Conway Twitty, That’s My Job

Spell Book

January 23, 2013 By Talya Tate Boerner

I was certain this tome came straight off the shelves of Flourish and Blotts from the shadowy bowels of Diagon Alley. As I turned the brittle pages, I expected to discover instructions for spells and magic tricks. I hoped to conjure up a house elf or stumble upon a potion for thinner thighs.

Instead I discovered a time capsule from the early 1930s.

My friend Marcia found this old ledger book in Harry’s closet. Harry (her dad) lives only a few houses down from us. She shared it with me, aware of my affinity with old things.

Harry bought his home in the early 1970s, and Marcia suspected this book belonged to the prior owner who perhaps purchased it at an estate sale.

I spent hours lost inside these musty pages reading magazine clippings and newspaper stories. The owner included favorite recipes—mostly desserts concocted with jello—some with ingredients unfamiliar to me. There were photos of hairstyles and clothing, pictures of movie stars and cleaning tips for the merry homemaker—using vinegar, not magic.

Also included, an accounts receivable ledger for milk delivery with names, addresses, pints and payment. In 1933, Dallas had forty-eight dairies. A dairy diary?

Once upon a time I had a scrapbook. I filled it with pictures and ticket stubs and junior high mementoes. (My scrapbook still lives in the Batcave…) Now I ‘pin’ photographs to virtual boards on Pinterest. Seems silly when I compare my “boards” to this book.

The book is dusty and moldy and a rodent has gnawed on the back pages. It’s my kind of book. It definitely put a spell on me.

talya

Musical Pairing

“Imperio!”
Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.
Everyone was laughing — everyone except Moody.
“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”
The laughter died away almost instantly.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Goodbye Gilligan’s Island

January 18, 2013 By Talya Tate Boerner

After school snack of peanut butter
crackers, watching Gilligan’s
Island

at the
lake
drive was long–I read Alice in Wonderland the entire
trip(s)

to the library while Momma was at Lucille’s Beauty
Shop(ping)

at Sterlings, the smell of
popcorn

at
Nana’s

drawing crazy ducks at
church

revival on hot, summer
days

spent flat on our backs, naming the shapeof
clouds

and cold, days spent playing jacks inside—too cold for
recess

spent upside down on the playground bars like a
Monkey
Island at the Memphis
Zoo

picnics, with homemade chicken, deep
fried

potatoes every
night(s)

spent telling ghost stories
become
memories
become
us.

These are a few of my random childhood memories layered like tree rings. Flashes, mere seconds in my life, vividly remembered years later. Each comes with a smell or a sound or a taste. Peel them back to find my thoughts, attitudes, opinions. Peel them back to find me.We have no control over what we remember. What sticks and what doesn’t?

Not all of my memories are strawberry-cupcake-filled. There were not-so-perfect memories too, those that sometimes kept me up at night. And regular run-of-the-mill life moments, easily forgotten. The sum of my life experiences furnished me with a love for reading and nature and cooking and family and home.

Now imagine….

What if instead of coming home from school to peanut butter crackers and Gilligan’s Island, I played Grand Theft Auto Vice City. Every day for years…

What if instead of attending church revival on hot summer days, I spent weeks holed up in my dark bedroom playing Hitman?

What if instead of checking out Nancy Drew books at the library, I checked out Splatterhouse?Would I be the same person?

The gun control debate has turned nasty. We can blame guns and mental health while calling for more control or taking up arms to fight for our rights. I don’t know what the magic answer is, but the problem stems from a complete breakdown of society including family and morals.

I grew up around guns yet never once considered shooting anyone on the school bus, even though my purse was ransacked and my lunch money was stolen nearly every day. And as bad as that was, the worst bully never considered pulling out a gun to steal my lunch money.

There were consequences—home, school, police, higher power.

When does virtual become reality? Shouldn’t Hollywood shoulder partial responsibility? Shouldn’t parents accept responsibility for not parenting?

How could we not be affected by something we are exposed to day in and day out, whether positive or negative?

If we smoke one cigarette, no harm done. Smoke cigarettes for five hours every day for years and see what happens.

talya

Grace Grits and Gardening

Musical Pairing:

In This World We Created, Queen