grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

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You’ve heard the question—if you could host a dinner party and invite anyone, dead or alive, who would you invite?
The subject intrigues me. I feel I need to be ready with my answer in case by some miracle, I’m allowed this opportunity yet have only one minute to respond else lose my chance.
I’ve thought about various actors but haven’t been able to come up with anyone. I’m not very impressed with famous people and think I would be uncomfortable entertaining total strangers.
Oprah? No.
President Obama? No. 
I’ve considered historical people like Abraham Lincoln and George Washington. Maybe...but the pressure to ask intelligent questions would be daunting.
William Shakespeare? No, Methinks I shan’t understand a word he saith.

Jesus? No need. He would already be there.
Sports figures? Dirk Nowitzski? Yes! Dirk could eat with us anytime.
Robert Griffin III? Obviously.
I’ve decided instead of famous or infamous people, I would invite my family, those gone and those still here. Nana and Papa Creecy, Daddy, Aunt Virgie, Aunt Rena, Aunt Lavern, Uncle Woody, etc. I’d invite Mammaw Ruby and Papa Homer and Ted and Freddie Joe Parnell and John’s entire family. I’d include all the cousins on both sides of the family so no one would get a word in edgewise.

One big family reunion.
Oh, and I’d invite Elvis to provide the musical entertainment.
Now, what should I cook?

talya

We Are Family, Sister Sledge

“All hell done broke loose now!” – Tillie, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner

(and yes, Becky, I know exactly who you’d invite…)

Ol’ Man

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Where I come from, ‘the river‘ means only one thing – The Mighty Mississippi. Only a few miles away from my home, he is the life source for the entire delta region, the reason our little towns even exist. These towns that are so important to us. Old Man River connects us to the gulf, to the rest of the world. Our grand highway to export soybeans and rice and corn. Our livelihood.

Our soul.

America’s mightiest river.

Have you seen how low the river is lately?
NO ONE asks, which river?
When mentioned in passing, no one confuses him with the White River or the St. Francis River or the Buffalo River, although all amazing waterways.
Like Elvis, no one asks which Elvis?
Which Madonna?
Which Cher?
Which Jesus?

For those of us born on his riverbanks, his water courses through our veins. A source of inspiration and energy, a vigilant Father. Part of us.

As kids we often drove behind the levees to make sure the river was still there, like visiting an old relative. Often taken for granted, yet always needed. Driving into Memphis, we held our breath on the bridge spanning the river. A game we played in route to the Zoo or Goldsmith’s or the Mid-South Fair. It was a l-o-n-g way over. My lungs were never strong enough.

We weren’t allowed to swim in the river. But I waded in to my knees once. In high school. The only time in my life I was afraid of water, the undertow wicked. 

He commands respect, capable of bestowing great wealth or catastrophic misfortune. Doing as he pleases, meandering where he will, like a stubborn cotton farmer. Misunderstood, quiet, strong. Sometimes appearing calm but always churning, roiling underneath the surface. Muddy and brown then golden and light, flowing. Seeking the ocean. Controlled by no one.

Providing for all of us.

Generations have witnessed his greatness, forever looking the same but never the same water. And the amazing things he has witnessed… abundant undisturbed wilderness, slavery and bloodshed, milk and honey, gambling and thieving, pirates and voodoo, jazz and blues, sacrifice and dreams. 
He mus’ know sumpin’, but don’t say nuthin’, he jes’ keeps rollin’, he keeps on rollin’ along…
2011 The River from Memphis Bridge
Last year the river water levels were at an all time high, threatening crops and animals, people and history. Today a record low, tired from drought and dry with sediment.

Still mighty and majestic. Our soul.

Port of Osceola August 2012

talya

Musical Pairings:

Ol’ Man River – Paul Robeson

River in the Rain – Roger Miller

“The poetry of the earth is never dead.” 
― John Keats

Where in the World is Barbara Tate?

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My mother has a love-hate relationship with the navigation system in her candy apple red Cadillac. When she bought the car, she attended 2 training sessions at the dealership to learn to use the fancy features. She may need to register for an entire semester. In her defense, the programming choices are completely nonsensical. Nothing about the system is intuitive.
Each time we drive anywhere unfamiliar, we play the navigation system game, first sitting in her car attempting to program the silly thing. After at least twenty minutes which must be estimated into the overall travel time, we head out. Hope always springs eternal. We are guided by the sultry voiced navigation woman, which Momma named Veronica, who immediately tells us to take the first right and make a u-turn. How can we be lost already? We are still in my neighborhood! Veronica always tries to make us drive north, and she is very big on u-turns. Is she trying to take us back to Arkansas? Maybe she thinks we always need to start at home base before heading somewhere new? Veronica has an evil mind of her own. I prefer to call her Christine. 
A few months ago, I drove my mother to her cousin’s ranch near Italy (Texas). In her wicked voice, Veronica focused on u-turns the entire trip. To make the drive even more insane, Momma is convinced Veronica will not work without the radio playing. VeronicaDoesn’tWorkAnyway… She drones on and on providing erroneous directions, speaking concurrently with the satellite radio which is always set to the Elvis station. “Exit at the next right and make a u-turn,” purrs Veronica as Elvis croons In the Ghetto. It’s enough to make you drink and drive and pee your pants.
one of our many trips to the ranch in Italy

Once I am completely unhinged, I whip out my iPhone to navigate, which I should have done in my driveway before leaving. And at the same time, Momma calls her best friends at OnStar for help. She loves loves loves to call her OnStar peeps. I’m pretty sure when I’m not around, she calls them just to chit-chat and check the weather conditions.

“Is it you again, Ms. Tate?” This is how the OnStar people greet my mother now. They have all become buddies – probably Facebook friends. They have directed her all over the country as well as just across Dallas. She definitely gets her money’s worth with OnStar which is good, because Veronica certainly doesn’t earn her keep. 
Yesterday, Momma was frustrated as she couldn’t remember how to post a picture on Facebook. I tried to text instructions to her.  No go. I called and attempted to walk her through it. At last she told me she thought she had figured it out, so we hung up. I really think she was just tired of talking to me about it. Later I saw the picture successfully posted on Facebook. Yay! I bet she called her friends at OnStar to help her. 

talya

Musical Pairings:

Sting, “Message in a Bottle”
The Clash, “Brand New Cadillac”

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!