My Mama and Daddy were old school rounded to the highest power. We answered with, "yes sir and no sir and thank you ma'am and please." No short cuts, otherwise…So this being the day the Lord gave us to be glad in it, I'm sharing a Sunday lesson on honoring thy Father and Mother and leaving the last piece for Mr. Manners.
So, it was Sunday, the day for being on time for Sunday School and Church and hosting the Preacher for dinner. Dinner being the mid-day meal, this day being Sunday and feeding the Preacher called for FRIED CHICKEN and fixin's. Dessert was a big, old cut glass carnival bowl of Mama's cling peach halves. Two quart jars of this decadence, chilled overnight. Waiting, waiting, just waiting…Oh my goodness!
Mama was up at daybreak wringing and chopping off the heads of several spring pullets. Those yard birds flopped and bled out right there near the chopping block. Mama plucked the feathers, cleaned out the innards, washed off and carved out the carcass of those birds. Put all the wings, drums, split breast pieces, backs, thighs and the neck (the least desirable piece) into the enamel dish pan to await the frying.
The baby usually got to gnaw on the neck unless the crowd was greedy. I aimed to get a drum stick or a half of a breast piece. Most times I had to settle for a back…BUT (and this is important) those chilled cling peach halves were "Even Steven." No cutting corners on that. HALVES! Fair and square.
Breakfast eaten, Mama fried chicken and a stove filled with pots of delicious sides. We made beds and swept off the dining room floor (Preacher company). Everybody was run through the cleaning rag, clothes fresh starched and dresses pressed. Biscuit-shined "black padding leathers" holding slippy socks; hair bows and barrettes clamped on. We loaded up into the bed of "Blue Goose" for the dusty road ride to Canaan Freewill Baptist Church just across the Ditch Bridge. "Brother" somebody or other needed to tighten up; fried chicken and chilled cling peach halves were waiting back at our house. Praying, singing, preaching, invitation, AMEN!
Back home with clothes changed and feet free, we bustled about to get the table groaning with Mama's cooking. "Thank you, Father, for this our blessings" were turned. I peeked at that platter of fried chicken, but more importantly I gazed at that bowl of chilled cling peaches. The blessing offered by the Preacher was long and heavy laden.
"Please Lord, let it end."
Preacher was sitting in Daddy's chair, Daddy was sitting in Mama's chair, and Mama stood with a baby hipped and ready to serve us. Preacher got dibs on that platter of fried chicken. He took a drum stick.
"Greedy gut!"
The platter was passed, we all got a piece; the baby got lucky and got a little wing drum. Mama got a back piece, so did Daddy. Two pullets equal two backs, right. Everything quietened with just the sounds of smacking and "Uh, huh" from the Preacher.
"Greedy gut!"
"Bet he takes two chilled cling peach slices AND a slice of pound cake covered in the juice."
"Soaks it up, don't you see."
"You bet, Preach."
We got filled with all the summer garden bounty. Cornbread and biscuit washed down with sweet tea; or cold, cream-filled morning’s milk.
THEN!
The cut glass carnival bowl of chilled cling peach halves was passed, and dipped onto a plate with a slice of pound cake. My judgement was spot on. The Preacher took two chilled cling peach slices with several scoops of juice spread over his cake.
"Greedy gut!"
I gobbled my plateful down, and then looked to see one big, old golden slice of chilled cling peach. I dipped it out, looked right into Daddy's eyes, and knew with absolute certainty it would taste like Heaven but hurt like Hell at the end of the day.
Sure ‘nuff!
We off-loaded Blue Goose that night when we got home from evening church services and the first thing Daddy said was,
"Earline, go get a switch." He tore my legs up first and then said,
"You know we always leave a piece for Mr. Manners; you acted like a greedy gut."
I never thought leaving food was a good idea; seemed like a waste to me. ‘Sides, somebody should eat the last peach half. Might as well have been me. Leaving something for Mr. Manners never made much sense when those children in China were starving.
You can check out Earline’s blog and buy a copy of her first book “Life With the Top Down” at: http://www.earlinesdoins.com
