My Southern Heart

Mama and the violets…

African violets will always remind me of Mama. She loved them. She loved growing them…along with her peonies, daylilies, daisies, roses, their large vegetable garden and several varieties of fruit trees. She loved taking a “cutting” (a leaf at the steam) and creating a whole new plant – or propagating them. Mama never took a botany class or a horticulture class, but she grew up on a farm in Mississippi. Maybe that explains her amazing touch and love of all growing things.

The first time Mama started growing african violets, that I recall, was after Daddy retired and she and Daddy moved to Mississippi. There, they built a new house in the country, next door to my sister’s house on the hill. There was a large laundry room with a nice sunny window and that’s where the african violets lived. All colors and varieties lived happily side by side and thrived. Mama would mix up the special blue food for the violets, which she kept in a gallon milk container beneath the cabinet, and would feed the beautiful african violets regularly with it. I don’t know how she knew what to do, but she did.

Years ago, I grew these two small african violets. They were potted in the tiniest little green plastic pots and were beautiful. Totally different but each one exquisite. One had dark purple blooms and the other one white lacy blooms edged in purple. I sighed and shuddered at my next thought – I was afraid I’d kill them.

I tried to remember just what Mama had done and then I googled african violets. Come to find out, even without Google, Mama had been right all along. African violets need to repotted right away in a special soil mixture just for african violets. I purchased the special soil and two larger pots made of a lovely green glazed pottery.

African violets don’t like to be too hot or too cold. Basically, they like the same temperatures that people do. They don’t like to be too dry to too wet. They don’t like water on their leaves! They need enough indirect light but not too much. Come to think of it, they’re just downright finicky, but they reward you for your effort with the most beautiful blossoms.

I’m beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I have inherited a tiny speck of Mama’s african violet gene…

Reflections…

Family History/Genealogy, My Southern Heart, Reflections

One afternoon during my granddaughters’ recent visit, I was sitting at the dining room table with them. The table was covered with fabric, thread, patterns and my portable Singer sewing machine. I was teaching my eight and almost ten year old granddaughters the basics of sewing – how to find the grain of the fabric, the selvages, laying out and cutting a pattern and safely operating the sewing machine.

In the midst of all of this, I mentioned that I wish I’d had a grandmother to teach me to sew and bake as I love to teach my grandchildren. It surprised them to learn that I had not known my grandparents. My father’s parents died before I was born. My mother’s mother passed away on June 10, 1951 and her father on June 15, 1952. I was five and six years old at the time of their respective deaths. I don’t remember them. I don’t remember what I called them. As I was growing up, my three older sisters talked about them…about how truly kind and good they were. Sadly, I don’t have those memories. Consequently, all my life, I’ve been drawn to old people…kind, old people. Perhaps that’s one reason I love being a grandmother so much…I know that I’m making memories for MY grandchildren.

Perhaps this is also why I’m so interested in my family’s history. There are volumes of information and geneological history that I have collected thus far…my late sister Dorothy and I. I’ve loved finding nuggets of information during the course of searching through census records, ordering birth and death certificates and traveling to courthouses in several states.

I remember finding great++ grandparents…and realizing that had I been researching my family’s history earlier in my life, my children might have had different names! I loved many of the family names I found. Some, not so much. There was a “John Benjamin”, “Mahalley”, “Matilda Caroline”, “Octavia Caldonia” (with Caldonia, I knew her ancestors were from Scotland), “Silas”, “Samuel Edward” and “Emmarella” to name a few.

I love the above photo of Mama. She was about eighteen here I believe.

My maternal grandmother, Mama’s Mama…Modena Emmarella Seals Haney (1872-1951). She was most likely in her early twenties here.

I wonder what my sons would have thought about being named Benjamin and Samuel? And my daughter could have been Emma Caroline. Hmmm….

Happy Birthday, Daddy…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

*My baby son (a few years ago!) with his Papaw, my Dad…*

As I remember Daddy’s birthday today, I thought it might be a good time to share a few pages or memories from the family history book which my sister Dot and I were working on before we lost her to leukemia. I want to finish this book. I really do…because that’s exactly what she would have wanted. If you’ve been reading this blog all along, then you know my Dad’s whole world was my Mama and my sisters and me, and later the grandchildren too. He loved his family. He was a gentle, kind, loving person. In my entire growing-up years, I never saw him lose his temper or raise his voice. I never heard a curse word. Amazing, isn’t it. I’m thankful that my parents were my parents. Happy Birthday, Daddy. I miss you.

an excerpt from the family history…

Daddy’s heritage lies deep within the gently rolling hill country of Mississippi, a fertile land with tall, green pines and abundant hardwoods. As we began the search for our family history, my sisters and I, once again, traveled down those winding country roads. We were struck with the quiet beauty of it all.

We found the little Piney Grove Baptist Church where our ancestors had worshiped, nestled in a sun-dappled clearing beneath the tall pines, and it would have been easy to believe we were standing in Cades Cove in the Great Smokey Mountains. Miles of farmland or forest stretched between homes as the wind whistled through the multitude of trees. It seemed time had stood still.

Although the site of the “old homestead” stands empty now, it was easy to imagine what life must have been like back then. Home for the Willis Nelson McGregor family was a large “dog-trot” style house which was built in the tradition of their Scottish ancestors who had migrated to Pontotoc from North Carolina and Tennessee. Situated on fertile farmland in the Springville community, their home was located just down the road from other members of the close knit McGregor family.

The youngest of seven children, Homer Stanley McGregor was born February 17, 1905 in Pontotoc County, Mississippi, to Willis Nelson McGregor and his wife Martha Sarah “Mattie” (Carpenter) McGregor. His brothers and sisters included Robert, Pearl, Quella, Lester, Daisy and Mazie. With two older brothers and four older sisters, Homer McGregor grew up in a home filled with the voices of family, laughter and music. With family roots deeply established, the McGregor children enjoyed the benefits of growing up in a community surrounded by a large number of McGregor and Carpenter (maternal) family members – including grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.

Highly respected for their strong family values and religious strengths, the McGregor family was well established early in Pontotoc’s history. Descendants of a Baptist preacher from Scotland, the generations that followed produced many other Baptist preachers and church leaders. Most of them were farmers and they all loved the land. There were often hardships that came with depending on the soil for their livelihood but they loved the challenges and rewards that came with each season.

My sister Dot penned these beautifully written memories of those growing-up years in Mississippi.

Sharing Memories. . .
by Dorothy McGregor Kemp

I will always remember Mama and Daddy as very hard-working and law-abiding people. Their family was the most important thing to them; and, in fact, the family was their whole life as they grew older.

Daddy had to work very hard as he had to support his family during some of the depression days, and things didn’t get much better for a long time after the depression; however, I remember that we had as much as most all of my friends and neighbors had back then. Daddy did his best to provide for our needs. Daddy had a lot of pride buying that little farm (in Rena Lara), and he graduated from plowing mules to a tractor which was much faster and easier. Daddy was so proud of that John Deere tractor. (I can just see him out in the fields now). Gerry and I, (Eunice wasn’t old enough) had to pick and chop cotton, but Daddy didn’t ask us to work as hard as some of the kids did, and Mama did not have to help in the fields like some of the wives did either. She took care of the house work, canning and sewing.

Mama always would have a huge and delicious dinner (not lunch) cooked for us at noon when we came home from the fields. The table would be full of several fresh vegetables, a meat (or maybe two), and always a dessert or cobbler, pie or cake, and everything was made from scratch. (She didn’t know what a cake mix was back then nor did she know what a “store bought” pie crust was. (It makes my mouth water to think about all the good food!) I can still visualize that table – actually, we had two; one long one in the kitchen and one on the screened-in back porch, where we ate often in the Summertime. And we had a long bench on one side of the table where we children sat.

Some of my best memories too, especially of Mama, would be the great tea cakes she would have baked for us when we got home from school – sometimes they were plain tea cakes and sometimes they would have chocolate icing (made from scratch) between them, and in the Fall and Winter months we always had baked sweet potatoes waiting for us in the oven. We had a wood stove, so the oven would stay warm for hours, thus the potatoes were too. (This was a snack for us – can you imagine children eating that now for a snack!)

Mama, as we all know, was a great seamstress. She made just about all of our clothes, except for the things that we ordered out of the Sears Roebuck Catalog. I will always remember that every Fall I usually would order a navy and a red cardigan sweater, and Mama would make me some skirts (always a plaid); and she also made us pretty dresses. (She was a perfectionist so they always looked great). We also ordered our shoes, and a coat occasionally, from the catalog. (Dear Old Sears – it’s too bad they don’t still have catalog mail ordering) but I still have my memories. Yes, Mama was proud of her daughters and she wanted us to look nice, so she did the best with the financial means she had.

We didn’t have much entertainment back in the 1930’s and 40’s, except for radio (and for a long time that was battery operated). But, I can still see Mama and Daddy listening to “Amos & Andy” while we ate supper every night which was (as I still remember) 6:30; and on Saturday nights we listened too the Grand Old Opry. On Sunday or Monday nights we listened to Lux Theatre. (Oh, if only the children now could use their imagination as we had to). Our other entertainment was “going to town” (Clarksdale) on Saturdays, especially in the Fall, after having picked cotton all week. Daddy would give each of us maybe a couple of dollars or less – which would probably equal to ten now – and we would go to the movie and also get a bag of popcorn, and usually after the movie, we would go to the ice cream parlor which really was a treat, as we only got ice cream when we made it in a hand-cranked freezer. (You see, for several years there we did not have electricity and had to keep our food cold in an ice box!) The ice man brought us say 100 pounds of ice that kept it cool, and we chipped off that for ice tea. (I can’t remember if the ice man came one or twice a week, but occasionally he didn’t make it and we were very disappointed). I remember that always around the 4th of July, for Mama’s birthday, we got extra ice to make lots of ice cream and our neighbors (the Hokes) would make some too. Oh, it took so little to make us happy then. Another exciting form of entertainment that we had were the traveling “tent shows” that came annually to Rena Lara and people within miles went to see that. Daddy always looked forward to going to those shows and taking Mama and us.

Daddy and Mama decided after living on the farm for several years to move to Clarksdale and then to Memphis where Daddy worked for General Electric until he retired. Then, I guess he wanted to move where the pace of life was slow, which would be the country or small rural area, so decided to make his final move to Grenada, Mississippi.

Mama and Daddy were kind people, and Daddy always had patience. Most of the time Mama had patience too, but sometimes her Irish got the best of her. I loved them both dearly and miss them so much! They were great people!”

Note: If you’d like to try my Mama’s wonderful teacakes, you’ll find the recipe here. Enjoy!

The Christmas Skates…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

Christmas was always a wonderful time on Victor Drive. Not because there were elaborate gifts or fancy decorations, because there were neither of those, but because we were all together. There wasn’t a lot of money, and so I knew better than to ask for anything expensive. It was simply out of the question. Roller shoe skates were definitely more expensive than my parents could afford, but that didn’t keep me from hoping. I must have been about fourteen years old the Christmas I finally did a little more than hope and actually asked for shoe skates for Christmas.

Every Friday night, my friends and I went roller skating at the large indoor rink on Summer Avenue in Memphis, Tennessee. I loved to skate. I loved to feel the breeze in my hair as I went around and around the rink as fast as I could. It felt like I was flying. I loved to skate to the music…it almost felt like dancing on skates. I had learned to skate backwards and thought that was the ultimate accomplishment at that age.

My children will tell you that I’m terrible at keeping secrets at Christmas. I want you to have what I bought you right now. I’M the one who can’t wait. So, about two weeks before Christmas 1959, I started snooping. The house wasn’t that large so where could they be? I finally found the roller skates under Mama and Daddy’s bed. I breathed a sigh of relief. They were actually there…I was getting roller skates for Christmas!

Christmas eve came and we all opened our gifts. No roller skates. Christmas morning came and no roller skates under the tree. I really can’t remember what else I got that Christmas. Christmas afternoon came and no roller skates. The way it all evolved is locked deep within the recesses of my memory…but the bottom line is Mama simply forgot. She forgot she had hidden my roller skates! I wish I could remember if I confessed or if she simply remembered on her own, but by Christmas evening, I was the proud owner of a pair of pristine white shoe skates.

I’d like to tell you that I’ve gotten better at keeping Christmas secrets, but…well, just ask my kids.

Buying our first house…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

After the birth of our first child in 1968, we bought our first house. It was small…maybe a total of 1,000 square feet. It had a living room, dining room, small kitchen, three bedrooms, one bathroom, a detached one-car garage and a fenced backyard.

There was a redbud tree in the front yard which had beautiful pink blossoms each Spring. Although Bill had never laid brick in his life, he decided that he would build a small circular brick wall around the base of the redbud tree. What we didn’t realize was that the ground around the tree wasn’t at all level, so our circular wall appeared to be waving…up and down. We laughed about it and filled it with flowers. I believe that was Bill’s last attempt at laying brick!

This was the beginning of many years of progressively successful “remodeling” experiences. We painted every room, changed the carpet, painted the kitchen cabinets, installed a new kitchen countertop and new bathroom tile. Bill constructed a narrow laundry closet in the bedroom adjacent to the living room since the kitchen was too small for it. We used scalloped window shades in each window and I made window treatments. We also painted the exterior of the house a light olive green with dark green shutters. All in all, it wasn’t bad at all for two total novices.

Little did we know when we bought that first small house in 1968 that we would eventually own nine homes over a period of thirty-something years. Through the process of trial and error, we would learn a lot. We mastered painting, special textures on the wall, wallpapering, hanging drywall, refinishing cabinets and installing wood floors. There was even electrical and plumbing involved with hanging new light fixtures, ceiling fans and changing out fixtures in the bathroom.

We made our share of mistakes, but over the years our confidence grew and we were pleased with the results. We enjoyed the warm colors, rich woods and the look of colonial America. Home was comfortable and a welcome refuge for our family…