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 25 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...

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.

The boy across the street...

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.

Velveeda...

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

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...

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 (left) 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 left) 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 at right. 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...

When I was about ten years old, my parents purchased a larger house about two miles away on Victor Drive. 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.)

Okay, no comments about my bangs! They sure weren't MY idea!

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 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!