grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Deputy Nana

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My mother the deputy
Deputy BAT

My mother was hauled down to the bowels of the Memphis International Airport when the x-ray machine spotted her pistol in the bottom of her purse. It was simply a silly misunderstanding, but nevertheless the FAA frowned on it, even pre-September 11. The security agent may not have detected the firearm, which is a scary notion, but as the purse disappeared into the machine’s black hole Momma gasped in a guilty panic, “Oh no!”, drawing more attention to herself than normal. 

“Run that purse through again,” the agent ordered.

Prior to the incident, she had only begun to pack. An Arkansas State Trooper friend encouraged she carry a gun after the recent shootout at her house. A tri-state manhunt and interstate roadblock ended with one escaped prisoner dead at her back door, his cellmate shot and injured in the bean field out back and their terrified hostage at Momma’s kitchen table. Anyone who knows our family, knows this excitement is typical for us.

Bullet holes still nick the spanish tile floors inside the house as a constant reminder and conversation starter. Not that she ever needs a conversation starter. In the time it takes to check out at Wal-Mart, my mother has a talent for learning the innermost secrets of the person queued up behind her. 

Barney Fife

But like overzealous Barney Fife, my mother’s gun mainly just created problems. It was an innocent mistake, an unfortunate accident resulting in twelve months of probation. 

Clearly these people in Tennessee didn’t know who she was. 

She was forced to walk a fine line as she met monthly with her probation officer in Memphis and attended court with other criminals. Thomas Tate, much like Andy Taylor, was surprisingly calm throughout this ordeal. But really, what choice did he have?


Upon successfully fulfilling the terms of probation including not drinking wine at the country club, her record was completely expunged. She could vote again. And since that nightmare, to our knowledge, she has managed to keep her nose clean. We are so proud.

Mississippi County Arkansas

Last week at home while spring breaking with my sister and her kids, Momma was sworn in as honorary deputy of Mayberry Mississippi County, receiving a badge and identification card at the county jail. Oh, if Thomas Tate had lived to see this day.

How many kids in Plano, Texas returned to school saying, “We spent our spring break gambling at the horse track after a quick trip to Graceland. Oh and our Nana was sworn in as deputy at the county farm?” ZERO. But we had an educational spring break, learning that with hard work anyone can get their life back on track. 

talya

Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Elvis Presley, Jailhouse Rock

“I say this calls for action now. Nip it in the bud.” Barney Fife

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

Lisa Marie had a PONY!

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Graceland

I so wanted to be Lisa Marie Presley. Growing up near Memphis, Elvis was local royalty, adored by all. People flocked to Graceland hoping to catch a glimpse of The King. He had been known to toss diamond rings over the iron gates like Mardi Gras beads to passersby. We would have been thrilled to see anyone walking around on the front stoop – a gardener, the pest control man – anyone with access within those hallowed inner walls surrounding the estate. 

Lisa Marie’s TV room.
When Lisa Marie was born, we eagerly soaked up all the available news like crazed stalkers. Although mostly shielded from the public, the newspaper occasionally threw the adoring fans a bone and published a rare photo of Lisa Marie riding her pony in the backyard at Graceland. She had her own pony. Driving by Graceland on the way to the zoo or the Pink Palace Museum, I tried to imagine which bedroom would have been mine had I been born to Elvis and Priscilla instead of Thomas and Barbara? Lisa Marie was the luckiest girl, I didn’t know.

Backside of Graceland

There was a big, kidney-shaped swimming pool in the backyard of Graceland, which didn’t much compare to our plastic one, filled to the rim with rusty cold water from the hose. The well water sometimes turned our hair and clothes orange, matching our cool shag carpet. Although we had John Deere tractors, Lisa Marie had her own plane. What a charmed life!
Underbelly of the Lisa Marie
As a toddler, Elvis took L-Marie on that plane to see snow in Colorado. Like we didn’t have snow? As a child growing up before global warming, we enjoyed deep snowfalls each winter, dismissing school for weeks at a time, a definite benefit to country living. Did Lisa Marie even have to attend school? Regardless, being a farm girl with a life revolving around weather conditions, I knew good and well the massive weather fronts affecting Northeast Arkansas traveled smooth across the Mississippi River and straight into Memphis over Graceland. We were only a few miles apart as the crow flies. Who was Elvis trying to fool? Memphis and Graceland and Lisa Marie got the same exact snowfall we received. And it made for perfectly delicious snow cream. If I had a plane instead of a tractor, I would go to the beach!
I was convinced that someday lucky Lisa Marie would meet and marry my heartthrob Donny Osmond. She was just that lucky. Each night I gazed at my OhSoCute, life-sized poster of Donny taped to the bedroom closet door. He was wearing a white sequined jumpsuit, much like the one Elvis wore during Live from Las Vegas, only smaller. Seeing Donny O in concert was THE highlight of my pre-teen life. Driving past Graceland on the way to the show, I happily waved to Lisa Marie in case she was looking out my window. In truth, I suspected she was already backstage with Donny.

After Elvis died, I felt so sad for her. Graceland became circus-like as did my hometown. Most of the ladies in Keiser had tickets to Elvis’ upcoming concert which never happened. Did Lisa Marie even have a real home anymore? Maybe she could stay at our house? We practically had a jungle room. 
I don’t know if Lisa Marie ever met Donny Osmond, maybe on Dancing with the Stars? Of course she totally blew whatever chance she had with him when she married Michael Jackson. What on earth was she thinking?  If Elvis is in that grave by the Graceland swimming pool, I know he rolled over a few times when that happened.

Thank goodness for unanswered prayers. Turns out I’m the one with the charmed life.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

talya

Elvis, “All Shook Up”
Donny Osmond, “Puppy Love”

“Elvis was the king. No doubt about it. People like myself, Mick Jagger and all the others only followed in his footsteps.” 
-Rod Stewart 

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!