My Southern Heart

Chicken and dumplins’…

Just as music can take us back to another time, so can the memory of certain foods…the sweet aromas coming from the kitchen of our childhood…

Mama’s kitchen was painted a robin’s egg blue with crisp white trim and white curtains. The cabinets, stove, refrigerator and clothes washer were white. There was no dishwasher – that would have been Sharon and me. One of us washing, one of us drying and singing while we worked. There was no clothes dryer…that would have been a clothes line outside and the bright sunshine. I was trying to remember the other day how she would have dried the clothes in the wintertime when the sun wasn’t shining. Seems to me, there were clothes lines in the attic for those dreary winter days. I’m sure it would have taken twice as long to dry.

Mama had so many specialties that it would be hard to say which I liked best. She made a wonderful roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh green beans, fresh butter beans…all those fresh summer vegetables. Every Thanksgiving, I long for my Mama’s chicken and dressing. My sisters and nieces and I have all tried our best to duplicate it…somtimes we come close. Mama made the best meatloaf in the world which made great sandwiches the next day if there was any left. Her biscuits were legendary, and I loved her desserts.

It’s her chicken and dumplings and my longing for those that prompted this post. I tried last night to duplicate them. I sauted a chopped onion in a little butter and added a little celery, garlic and thinly sliced carrots too. I added some water and a nice 5 pound chicken, along with some salt & pepper, and cooked it slowly. After the chicken was done, I deboned it carefully. I sifted the flour, cut in the shortening, added the milk and rolled the strips out to just the right size. I dropped the dumplins’ into the boiling stew and put the lid quickly on. After dropping the the temperature to just a little above simmering, I waited patiently for about 20 minutes, resisiting the temptation to lift the lid and peek.

Had I not had the best chicken and dumplins’ in the world, I might have thought these were really good…but I know better.

The boy across the street…

My Southern Heart, Reflections, The little house on Victor Drive

I can’t remember when Larry and his family first moved in across the street…Larry, his older brother, two younger brothers and his parents. Not long after they moved there, his Dad died suddenly. I don’t remember if his Mom went to work after that, but I’m assuming that she did. I do remember seeing Larry and his older brother frying chicken for their supper and caring for their younger brothers.

I don’t know what it was about Larry. Maybe it was that James Dean look, but I was certainly drawn to him…crazy about him. We weren’t in the same crowd at school. I was yearbook staff, honor society and Bible Club. He was sports and, most likely, a faster crowd I’d say. Larry and I would sit on my front porch and talk for what seemed like hours or take a long walk around the neighborhood block and talk some more.

After graduation, Larry joined the Air Force and went to basic training. I think I got a post card or two from him after he left. I finished my senior year of high school and went away to a Baptist College in Mississippi. On one of my first visits home from school, my roommate and I took the train home. My parents met us at the train station and told me that Larry was home on a brief furlough. They said he asked them if he could pick me up at the train station, but they had said no…talk about disappointment! At any rate, he came over as soon as we arrived home. If memory serves me right, we had a date that night…to the movies…along with my roommate and a friend of his.

I went back to college and he went back to the Air Force. Time marched on, and I heard he had married a couple of years later. I’ve often wondered what happened to Larry. I hope he’s had a good life…a happy one. I’ve also wondered if he still looks like James Dean. I think I’d rather remember Larry that way…it’s best I don’t know if he’s bald and fat now.

Update: I’ve heard within the past year or so that Larry has had multiple strokes and has dementia. Such sad news. I will keep him and his family in my prayers.

A Saturday in Memphis…with Elvis

Family, Family History/Genealogy, My Southern Heart, Reflections

It was February 25, 1961 – a bitter cold Saturday in Memphis – and one I’ll never forget. It was the day of the “Special Matinee Memphis Charity Show, starring Elvis Presley”!

I had just turned 15 in December and, like every other teenage girl in America, I loved Elvis and his music! My 15 year old best friend Kathy, my 12 year old niece Sharon and I were going to the concert, and I’m sure we’d talked about nothing else for days. Thankfully, Kathy and Sharon still had their ticket stubs, so we’re sure of the exact dates. Between the three of us, I believe the story is quite accurate.

Sharon remembers that Daddy drove us downtown that morning, most likely on his way to work, so it would have been early – much too early for the concert. Kathy remembers that we walked to Goldsmiths (a large department store) to purchase our $3.00 tickets. I remember that it was COLD…with the winds coming in across the Mississippi River, carrying with them the type of damp cold that truly goes right through you. What we needed at that point in time were the L.L. Bean down jackets you could get today, but certainly none of us had them.

The tickets were printed: “Special Matinee Memphis Charity Show Starring Elvis Presley, Auditorium Amphi Theater, Admission $3.00. Doors Open 1:30 p.m. No Refund. No Exchange. (as Sharon says, “like we would have wanted to!”)

I have a very vivid picture in my mind…yes, even after all these years…of the three of us girls standing in line early at the Ellis Auditorium. The doors didn’t open until 1:30 p.m., but we were in line much sooner than that…standing there waiting and freezing to death in that bitter cold. Ellis Auditorium was on Front Street – as in river front – so you can imagine how cold it was. So, there we were…standing there waiting to see Elvis with our little sack lunches in our hands. For some reason, I love that particular part of the story!

As I recall, somewhere around 11:30 a.m., the janitor or some other angel who worked at the auditorium had mercy – or pity – on all of us (and by that time, there was a pretty good-sized crowd) standing in line. He opened the doors for us, and we RAN! The three of us ran like the wind, and amazingly managed to get seats on the THIRD row! Yep! The third row. THAT I can remember. Seems in my mind, it took a good while to warm up…but then we enjoyed our sack lunches.

A young, handsome Elvis Presley sang his heart out and the show was incredible. Yes, just in case you were wondering, Kathy, Sharon and I did our share of swooning and screaming – just like the hundreds of other teenage girls there. Since we were on the third row, it stands to reason that somewhere in the dusty archives of the former Memphis Press Scimitar, the Memphis Commercial Appeal or maybe even the A.P., there is a photo of three young teenage girls who had braved the bitter cold that February day in 1961.

(These two photos were made in August 1962 at the Memphis Zoo…Sharon and Kathy…and Dianne below. For some reason, I don’t think we had our cameras with us at the Elvis concert!)

Four sisters…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

When I was born, my three sisters were 18, 15 and 11 years old. My parents were forty-one at the time. No doubt, I was their last hope for a son, but it was not to be. There would always be the four sisters. Even with the age difference, we have always been close.

My sister Gerry (above) married at the age of 18 when I was only two years old. At that time, her husband, Sonny, worked for the railroad in Mississippi. He tells the story that every Friday afternoon, Gerry had their suitcases packed and ready for the train trip to Memphis “to go see her baby sister”.

Valedictorian of her class and president of the statewide Mississippi 4-H, Gerry married and finished her senior year of high school in Mississippi after my parents sold the farm and moved to Memphis. She won a trip to Chicago through the 4-H and also a beautiful gold Elgin watch. Sonny had just given her a watch as a gift, and so she set the Elgin watch she had won aside for me…saving it as a gift for my 12th birthday. It’s engraved on the back with her name and the date she won it, and I will always treasure it.

After my oldest sister Dorothy (Dot) (below) lost her husband in a tragic ship explosion, she and my 4 month old niece Sharon made their home with us. With that little head of very dark hair and big beautiful blue eyes, Sharon was my baby sister.

Family was always so important to my sister Dot. Maybe it was the fact she was the oldest…maybe it was enduring tragedy at such a young age. Whatever the reason, she was the family historian…the family preserver. She was the eternal optimist…seeking out the hope in any situation. She remembered birthdays and anniversaries and celebrated each special event.

Dot did not remarry until Sharon was in high school, when she married Tom. Each year they would host Mama’s 4th of July birthday party. It was my sister Dot’s dream to compile our family history into a book. She and I had been working on completing the research for that book, when she was diagnosed with leukemia. She died before we were able to complete it. I want to finish that family history for my sister. We all still miss her terribly.

When I was born, my sister Eunice was eleven years old…the beautiful young girl in the photo below. She is quiet, soft-spoken and truly a gentle soul. I remember when we were living on Mamie Road, Eunice had a part-time job after school at a drug store which had a soda fountain. She used part of her earnings to buy me the cutest grey wool pleated skirt, yellow sweater and loafers.

Eunice has a quick smile and a ready laugh. Even though she worked as a secretary after graduation from high school, she loves creating a home. She enjoys decorating and excels at it…and like my other two sisters, she is a wonderful Southern cook. When we were living on Victor Drive she married Eddie. They lived in Memphis for a while before they bought a home in Mississippi.

My sisters and I have always had so much fun when we get together. There is always a lot of laughter…sharing…more laughter…eating…and more laughter still. From the time I was about thirteen, during every family get-together, we would have what we called the “sisters’ lineup”, the four of us girls. Looking back at them now, through all the years…those photos are priceless.

Scan of a polaroid snapshot. Summer of 1962, left to right: Dot (34), Gerry (31), Eunice (27), Dianne (16

Moving to Victor Drive…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections, The little house on Victor Drive

When I was about ten years old, my parents purchased a larger house about two miles away on Victor Drive. It wasn’t a large house by any stretch of the imagination, maybe twelve hundred square feet at the most. In my memory, it was a white cottage with green shutters. In addition to an extra bedroom, the house had a dining room which was paneled in warm knotty pine and had two built-in corner china cabinets. The sun filtered through the dining room windows and reflected against the pine, casting a warm glow on the large round antique dining table. That table was the scene for so many family meals and special times…(also the scene where Sharon and I would occasionally – well, okay, frequently – get sent from the table for uncontrollable giggling.)

I remember that we moved in the winter after my first semester of the fourth grade. Strange how certain pictures stick in your mind. Sixty years later and I can still remember Mama, my sisters, Sharon and I sitting in the sun coming in those dining room windows eating our lunch. The gas heat must not have been turned on yet because I remember we were cold. We must have been there to clean in preparation for moving or we had just moved in. The memories are fuzzy after all this time.

There was a large back yard with trees and plenty of room for Mama’s vegetable garden. Mama and Daddy planted apple, peach and pear trees for a small orchard as well. Mama was an incredible Southern cook, and with the bounty from those trees, she made the most delicious jams and preserves I have ever tasted to this day. Those pear preserves on one of her homemade biscuits was truly a legend.

Our move to a new home had meant changing neighborhoods, friends, schools and churches. Thankfully, this school was only .31 tenths of a mile (map quest again) and a much shorter walk to school. The fact that we moved half-way through the fourth grade made it especially difficult. As I recall, I wasn’t too happy at first, especially since the class was on a totally different subject in math – one I had not had. I had gone from being a straight A student, to having serious problems in math. One day, the teacher hit my hand very hard with a ruler because I didn’t know the answer to a math problem. Mama, who was barely five feet tall and very soft-spoken, had a few well-chosen, but totally appropriate, things to say to my teacher. After that, the teacher took a little extra time and patience, and my good grades returned. Honestly though, I never was fond of that particular teacher after that. Unfortunately, I had her again for two more subjects in junior high!