grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Don’t change a thing and you will go far.

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May is graduation time. As graduation announcements begin to roll in, I think back to my own high school graduation. Rivercrest High School, Class of 1980. Just yesterday to me. As a high school senior, the last looooonnng year drags and anticipation builds up to that all important moment when you walk across the stage to receive your much deserved diploma, trying to smile for the camera while balancing that ill-fitting mortarboard hat.
I remember thinking that hat was going to fall off my head, plus it was squishing my carefully feathered bangs totally flattening my hair which I had curled loosely on hot rollers. It was rocking the Farrah ‘do when I left the house until Mrs. Meadows adjusted it, securing it to my skull with bobby pins. Just give me my diploma so I can start my life, please.
Yesterday, with my life in full swing, I attempted to make a dent in our disorganized garage. In the bottom of a storage crate, I ran across my senior year Memories book. And that was the end of my garage cleaning project. Wiping the cover clean of dust bunnies, I immediately plopped down on the dirty floor of the garage to relive a bit of 1980. 

Apparently I was a big time scrapbooker before scrapbooking was in vogue as every single page of the book was completely filled with thoughts, pictures, and newspaper and magazine clippings. Or maybe I was just bored to death. Flipping through the pages I realized I had unearthed a time capsule. It looked as if it might have been living in the bottom of a locker at Rivercrest for the past thirty-two years. Or buried in the field beside the school parking lot where my little yellow corvette accidentally threw gravel peeling out for the last time.

As I read through the pages, I was struck by how fortunate I am to still be friends with many of my classmates and teachers. 
It was the year the Rivercrest Colts beat the rival Osceola Seminoles 9-6 on November 2, 1979, at home. I know because I wrote all about it. It’s recorded in ink for all of eternity, in my handwriting, probably with a Bic pen, and backed up with a newspaper clipping of the same. Back then, before Rivercrest dominated every sport throughout the entire state of Arkansas, Osceola always beat us, SoThisWasBIG. We had a great baseball team too, also walloping the Seminoles 14-3 to win Regionals.  It still makes me happy.
Tim Hardin
It was the year my classmate Tim Allen (from Dyess not Hollywood) and I won our three-legged race during intermurals, but he received a broken arm and I got 6 stitches in my chin for our efforts. That gym floor was slick in sock feet. We were unable to compete in the final heat.

According to my anthology, Billy Joel and Pink Floyd were my favorite musical artists, and my preferred television shows were Dallas, SNL, Three’s Company (RIP John Ritter) and Dukes of Hazzard. Movies = Grease, Halloween (the original one) and The Jerk. Reflecting on this, I think these are all good choices still.

I loved Hang Ten and Chic clothing, Candies shoes and Jontue perfume. I have pictures of these logos plastered on the “Gradfad” page…And an Arkansas Razorback banner – why did I not attend the University of Arkansas?
News From Planet Earth
On the “News From Planet Earth” page, I glued headlines of the Persian Gulf Crisis, Khomeini, Teheran, the Crisis in Iran. So basically nothing has changed. There was also the headline “Did Elvis Die From Drug Abuse?” Really? Was society debating this during in 1980? Everyone knows Elvis is still alive living in Arizona… 
2 pages dedicated to the race track???
The fact that I devoted two entire pages to the horse races speaks to my obvious gambling problem. There wasn’t a “horse race page” in the book, but I surely made room including losing tickets and season guest passes and a detailed diary of the entire weekend with the Barnetts. I’m certain my comprehensive account of the events would hold up in federal court should I be required to testify for some reason. And so my journal begins with, “We left for Hot Springs on Wednesday, April 2, 1980. This was during our Easter vacation. Clyde Barnett left at 7:00 am, Daddy left at 8:10 am, Mrs. Barnett, Bob and Bill left at 3:30 and Momma, Staci, Craig and I followed after that. We had 4 vehicles up there.” According to my specifics, “Craig and I placed all our bets together, betting $66.00 and losing $69.00 by the end of day one, winning $58.20 by the end of the 3rd race on day two but losing $12.70 by day’s end. On the 3rd day in the 9th race (the Fantasy Stakes) Craig bet $5 across the board on Bold ‘n Determined, Staci bet $5 to show on Honest & True and I bet $5.00 on Satin Ribera. All 3 horses came in, and I was ahead $20 at day’s end”. SERIOUSLY!? I kept track of all this. Did my parents not realize I had a gambling problem at an early age? I was insane and destined to be a bookie but ended up a banker – a close second I suppose.
Not surprisingly, I have a list of every single graduation gift I received. Unlike the popular gift of cash or gift card for today’s grad, most people gave actual presents in 1980. Like towels or picture frames or a Cross pen set or 2 pairs of bikini panties.…Yes. 2 pairs of bikini panties from a family in Keiser who shall remain nameless. Apparently I didn’t think it was one bit odd at the time, because I proudly listed it in my book.  I wonder if this was their standard gift to all Keiser grads? Did BeckyJudyNormaAnitaCarrieMary receive this as well?  (I swear this is true. And no, it wasn’t from the Barnetts.)

Lots of classmates wrote little messages in my book. Everyone proudly signed their name with “class of 80”. It was a very good year. Next time I go home I may bury this valuable cache of historic information in front of the school by the brick wall where the Future Business Leaders take yearbook pictures. Hundreds of years from now, new emerging civilizations will discover it and wish they had it so great. And they will wonder what the hell kind of gift bikini panties were for graduation…

Happy Graduation!


talya


Musical Pairing:



Excerpts of friend comments from my Memory book:


“Without you failing your test too, I could have never made it.” darla h.

“I’ll never forget the first time I saw you in biology, stuck-up, but now you are a great friend.” tim a.

“I didn’t get to know you like I wanted to know you, but what I know is good.” clay w.

“You are a great friend and a great person and very great looking with a great personality and a great singing voice.” joe a.

“We’ve had great times together and I’m sure there will be more to come.” craig b.

“Let’s keep in touch and don’t let your feet stick to the Murr Theatre.” becky p.

“Don’t change a thing and you will go far daughter.” tim h. 

Kelsey – Class of 2007
Threw hat in the air…

Tate – Class of 2011
Balancing that hat

Adventures with Aunt Virgie

By

Aunt Virgie lived at the end of Johnson Road at Carrolls Corner just past Athelstan. The house was tiny, the ceilings slung low, the outside was covered in old asbestos siding—just like our recently purchased Fayetteville house. In fact, our new house reminds me of Aunt Virgie’s house, which is probably one of the reasons I was drawn to it.

Sometimes I think I channel Aunt Virgie…

Fayetteville Cottage
As kids we often slept at her house which was always a great adventure, a bit like camping. Aunt Virgie had no indoor plumbing… even in the 1970s. We thought her back yard outhouse near the chicken coop was THE coolest thing ever.

Using the bathroom outside in the dark was THE coolest thing ever.

I suggested to my husband that we might build an outhouse for our Fayetteville cottage. Since there is only one teeny bathroom (the size of our Dallas shower), an outhouse would be a brilliant time management tool! Especially since we are always working in the yard (no more tracking dirt into the house when we are digging and planting). And especially since I always have to pee.

It would be adorable tucked away in the wisteria beside our bamboo forest, maybe with one of those little half moon cut outs on the door.  Just a one-holer and only used for number one, of course.

I’ll have to check with our friend and real estate agent Paula to see if this would hurt the re-sale value. But, this is the Ozarks… I think it would boost value… a 2 bedroom/1 bath + 1 holer….? Charming. And very eco-friendly. 

Since Aunt Virgie had no running water, she had a pump outside the kitchen door. We took turns pumping buckets of water for her, avoiding the fat rooster that terrorized us and her chickens. That water was always cold and clear—the best tasting water—and we drank it out of a long-handled dipper. After she died, I wondered about that dipper. I hope someone in the family kept it.
In that tiny kitchen with the 50s style formica dinette and authentic tin pie safe, she baked the most fabulous pie crust for us as a special treat. She rolled out her dough, cut it into strips and baked it. We ate those strips of flaky crust straight out of the oven with nothing on it. If I could do one thing over again, I would watch and learn how she made that pie crust. I still haven’t perfected mine, but I’m working on it. 
talya
The original 12 Johnsons
1960’s Johnson reunion.
 Uncle’s- Ervin, Roy, Woody, Grandpa, Earl, JB, Land, Claris. Aunts- Ruby, Essell, Frances (my Nana), Rena and Virgie 
Musical Pairings:

Alison Krauss, “Down to the River to Pray”

    Little Church Campers in the Big Woods

    By

    School will be out for summer in a matter of weeks and parents will be shipping the kiddos off to camp somewhere. As kids, we went to church camp at Ravenden Springs, nestled in the Ozark Mountains. It was an idyllic setting. Just imagine Camp Walden, that perfect summer camp in The Parent Trap where identical twins Hallie and Annie accidentally met. Now take away the lake and fun activities like canoeing and horseback riding and archery and add tons of hellfire, brimstone and Kumbaya. AllDayLong. Now you have the picture.

    Seriously, we had a great time there – lots of girls from our home town bunking together in one cabin – how can that not be fun? The beds were rustic, like a prison, but we didn’t care.  It was a one week slumber party! Toothpaste in the nose for the camper who fell asleep first, shaving cream fights – fun times! Who got the top bunks? That was always a big thing. We stayed up late at night writing letters to our friends left behind at home, as if we would never see them again. I’m sure we made it home before those letters. It was just a one week camp. 
    But it seemed waaaaayyy longer. I knew it was a church camp, but I wasn’t expecting preaching 24-7. I thought it would be more like Vacation Bible School with arts and crafts and games and snacks mixed in. But in reality it was a very long church revival. We sang Pass It On until I wanted to pass on. “It only takes a spark to get a fire going…” If you’ve ever been to church camp, you know the song well. In addition to singing and preaching, there was lots of praying and crying and handholding. We would have slammed shots of Reverend Jim Jones Grape Juice if they passed it around and told us it was the right thing to do. The spirit moved us.
    Our only non-church activities were eating 3 square bad meals, swimming (boys and girls separately) and one day of hiking up to Needle’s Eye and Devil’s Bathtub. Even on our hikes they had to work the devil in somehow…
    At the end of the week, I was sooooo ready to go home to my real bed and my private shower and Momma’s cooking. The last morning after breakfast, we dilly-dallied around in our cabin, saying goodbye to all our new best friends. Finally, we decided to walk outside to check on our bus. That’s when we discovered we had been left behind. The Keiser Baptist Church bus left without us, and no one on that bus even missed us??? It appeared we were the only humans left. Church camp became eerily quiet. Did I hear dueling banjos in the distance? I couldn’t let myself become panicked – I was the oldest. But I bet this place was spooky at night, deep in the dark woods with all sorts unholy spirits. 

    Staci, Lesa and I formulated a brilliant plan in no time. We would phone home and explain to Momma and Aunt Lavern that the three of us had missed our bus. They would have no choice but to drive up to get us. And then, once they got to camp, they would realize we were already half way to the lake.  We may as well go on to the lake. Right? Made complete sense. We always prayed to go to the lake, and it was the perfect place to recuperate from church camp.

    the lake!

    Just at that moment some preacher from Blytheville saw us strolling back to our empty cabin. After a bit of questioning, he realized we had missed our bus home. He and his small group were the last ones to leave camp, and we were forced to ride back with them. NO! There was to be no happy accidental lake trip. No singing Kumbaya on the return bus ride home with giggly friends. Instead I was crammed in the back of the preacher’s brown station wagon with a load of dirty laundry and a strange boy who cracked his knuckles the entire way home. Staci and Lesa were in some other vehicle.  It was a terrible ending to the week at church camp.  And after all that praying and singing, I just couldn’t believe this was to be our fate. Next year I was going to cheerleader camp! There was spirit there too.


    talya

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

    Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

    THANKS FOR READING!