Life In General

Leave it to Mama

by Judy Woodward Bates, Dora

For those of us blessed enough by the Almighty to grow up right in the Heart of Dixie, a favorite entertainment on warm summer nights was what we referred to as porch sittin'. During those wonderful, balmy evenings each grown-up would settle into their preferred rocker or straight-back chair while we children would run around the yard chasing lightening bugs (known north of the Mason-Dixon as fireflies).

Oftentimes Daddy would play his guitar and he, Mama, and Grandma would sing. When Aunt Frances and her brood came to visit, we had ourselves an unprecedented impromptu choir.

If the lightning bugs were no longer holding our interest, we small fry would frequently climb back onto the porch and help out with the music. But always, always, even if the bug catching was going exceptionally well, we'd hurry back to the porch as soon as music time had ended. We knew this was the point when Grandma would tell us a story.

"It was around 1923. Yes, We Have No Bananas and Tea for Two were at the top of the music charts and Jack Dempsey was the heavyweight boxer to be reckoned with. Douglas Fairbanks was a big hit in Robin Hood and Calvin Coolidge was about to step into President Harding's shoes-and the hot seat.

I had just turned fourteen that summer when Mama decided to invite my Yankee cousin, Emily, to come stay with us until school started back. Emily was not really a very big girl but her feet tended to run larger than most of the women's in the family-every bit of a size 6, no doubt. Well, children being the unkind creatures that they are, we had long before ceased calling her Emily, except to her face. I mean, I was absolutely mortified that Big Foot Michigan was coming to spend the entire summer with my family!

The morning Papa took us to meet the train, it was a good thing we'd come in the wagon. Cousin Emily had brought a trunk that looked like she was coming South to stay! She and I were about the same age, but I was more than surprised to see that Emily had far exceeded me in developing her female anatomy. Apparently her mama had never explained to her the purpose of a binding cloth.

Well, I helped get Cousin Emily settled into my room while Mama and our cook, Sadie Mae, spent the entire day preparing a big dinner in honor of Cousin Emily's arrival. Mind you, Emily and I had never spent much time in each other's company and we really didn't know each other very well-but there was never any use arguing with Mama once she had her mind made up about anything!

Alone with me, Big Foot didn't waste a lick of time letting me know that she hadn't liked this idea one bit better than I had. She sniffed around our house like some ol' lost coon dog and acted as though she was going to catch some kind of Deep South cootie if she wasn't real careful.

I'm telling you, it was a long, hard day for all of us. Mama tried hard to be kind to Cousin Emily, but dear Cousin wasn't having any of that.

When Mama suggested that we girls walk up to the store for a soda, Big Foot upped and said, "No, thank you, Aunt Elizabeth. I'm not accustomed to walking, and besides, I can barely breathe in this unbearable heat."

Nothing any of us said or did got Cousin Emily to act one bit more civilized. She had come down here expecting to have a bad time and she was bound and determined to have it. Mama would never have been willing to admit it, but if she hadn't gone to so much trouble with the dinner, I think she'd have driven Cousin Emily back to the depot herself.

To make matters worse, Mama had sort of decided this would be a kind of unofficial coming out party for dear Cousin Big Foot and me. Mama had me invite two of my girl friends, Anna Ruth Potter and Daisy Crane. And without so much as a mention to me, Mama had asked four young men to have dinner with us, too.

I have to admit that I was as excited as can be at the idea of just about having my very own gentleman caller. And I think Cousin Emily was more pleased about it than she wanted to let on. Be that as it may, by the time our guests arrived, Emily and I stood side by side in the parlor, greeting the arrivals as though she and I were absolutely the best of friends.

Still, I couldn't help but feel just a little bit sorry for ol' Big Foot. Here she was hundreds of miles away from home, didn't know a soul but us and she was being eyeballed like a trussed-up goose at the butcher's. Her plank-size feet stuck out clear to the doorway and her bosom didn't lack much catchin' up-she was a sad sight to behold, by my way of looking at it.

Be that as it may, she was family and Mama was determined to do the best she could by her. Mama settled us down to an absolute banquet. There was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, and Sadie Mae's scrumdelicious collard greens. And cornbread! Nobody could make cornbread as good as Mama's and Sadie Mae's.

It was the collards that cut ol' Emily down to size. Early in the meal, Cousin Emily had an accident involving them and she apparently had no idea it had happened. Mama wasn't about to say a word: there simply wasn't a way to polite way to tell our guest that she had a collard leaf dangling from her bosom!

We girls squirmed and eyed each other uncomfortably, but I'm sure that Big Foot merely assumed we were poking fun at her for other reasons. But even in spite of the collard, the meal started off fairly well.

Papa made polite conversation with the boys every now and then. Mama and we girls chattered away about everything and nothing, and we really did try to include Cousin Emily in our conversation. But after she opened her mouth the first couple of times, we decided we were all better off without her input.

"Oh, really?" she said with this totally bored look on her face. "That's not the way we do it in Michigan." And when one of the boys got up the courage to ask her if she was enjoying her stay, she gave him the hatefullest look and said, "I'm bearing up nicely considering the primitive conditions."

Well, honey, that tore it. Mama was far too much of a lady to issue a reprimand right then, but I hadn't been around a whole fourteen years without knowing what the look that passed between her and Papa meant. Mama had had her bait of little Miss Big Foot.

But a real lady can get the upper hand and remain a lady. And that's exactly what Mama did before our meal was over. I think Cousin Emily finally realized she had overstepped her limits because she suddenly switched gears and started trying to butter up Papa. By that point in time that was definitely the wrong thing to do. The sweeter she got, the sicker we all got of hearing her.

Sadie Mae was clearing away for dessert when Mama, in her very sweetest tone, asked ol' Big Foot, "Emily, dear, would you care for anything else before dessert?"

Emily didn't know she had met her match when she turned to Mama and answered, with a withering look of grandeur, "I have feasted divinely on the wing of a dove." With a delicate but obvious glance, Mama eyed the wayward collard. "I see you have," came her coup de gras. "It appears one of the birds has lost a feather."

~

Originally published: Alabama Prime Times, April 1999

Home | Cover | Issue Index | Subject Index