My Southern Heart

From the heart of a Southern girl living in the Midwest

Chicken and dumplins’…

Family, My Southern Heart, Reflections

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.

Early morning quilting…

Family, Reflections

After the harvest was over and the canning was done, winter signaled the time for Mama to begin quilting again. I remember her piecing together some of the most intricate designs. An artist with a needle and thread, she made some of the most beautiful quilts.

Once Mama had pieced together the quilt top, Daddy would set up the wooden “saw horses” in front of the living room windows. There, I would find her early of a winter morning, focused on her work…one tiny stitch at the time…creating the wonderful quilts that would keep her family warm for years to come.

 

Sadly, the quilts arranged in the chair aren’t Mama’s.  It’s just a photograph I purchased.  I wish I had thought long ago to take photographs of Mama’s beautiful quilts.  

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.

Velveeda…

Reflections

I spent the summer of 1962 working as a volunteer “Candy Striper” at what was then John Gaston Hospital, now known as the Regional Medical Center of Memphis. I was sixteen years old and had just completed my junior year in high school.

There were only two choices for traveling to the hospital each morning. I could take the city bus, which would have involved transferring at least twice, or my Dad could drop me off very early at the hospital on his way to work. Even though it meant getting up at the crack of dawn and arriving an hour earlier than the other Candy Stripers each day, I chose riding with Daddy.

I was assigned to work in pediatrics helping the nurses feed, bathe and generally help the young patients. Part of each day was spent in the “play room” where the children who were ambulatory would gather. There we would read to and play games with the children as their conditions permitted.

Velveeda arrived a few weeks after the summer began. A tiny little thing, she was about four years old. She had skin the color of ebony, huge dark brown – almost black – eyes and long black eyelashes. Her story was heartbreaking. She lived in one of the poorest areas of Memphis, born to a very young mother who had no idea how to care for her. Velveeda had somehow swallowed lye…literally destroying her esophagus and a large portion of her stomach.

Velveeda and I quickly formed an attachment to one another. She would make the nurses wait until I arrived each day to bathe and dress her. Velveeda’s room was the first place I would go when I arrived each morning. Most of the time, she was awake waiting on me, and would give me a big smile when she saw me. If we were in the playroom with the other children, she would try to push her way to the front of the group and climb on my lap. She had a trach but would cover it and talk to me in spite of it.

Mama helped me to sew a special dress for Velveeda…it was white with little red hearts on it. Velveeda loved it, and would insist on wearing it almost every day. Unfortunately, with the trach, it meant I would have to wash it by hand almost every day too, so some mornings it wasn’t yet dry. One summer morning, I arrived at my usual early time and went to Velveeda’s room. It was dark and empty. At the nurses station, I found somber faces and the nurses in tears…Veleveeda had died during the night.

I didn’t know then that, years later, I would go to nursing school and become a Registered Nurse. Over the years, I’ve cared for so many patients…young and old alike; but I still remember that sweet little face with the huge dark eyes and the great big smile.

The photo is a 46 year old newspaper clipping from the old Memphis Press Scimitar! Kathy’s mother had clipped it out and saved it for me.

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!)