More memories of a southern childhood

The last time I went shopping, I noticed that there's a huge section where people can buy "prepared" vegetables.

You can get diced onions, tomatoes... even boiled and shelled eggs.

While I can appreciate that prepared foods can save time in the kitchen, I have to say, they never taste as good as the foods you prepare yourself.

When I was a kid, it would have been taboo to actually *purchase* prepared vegetables or soup.

Nanny, Snooks, Granny Tinder... And even though my grandpa Abb and and grandma Alberta lived *in town*... they all had gardens.

When I say garden, I don't mean that small patch of ground out in the corner of the yard where people plant a couple of tomato or pepper plants.... I mean a good 2-3 acres of nothing but vegetables growing in the southern soil.

Nanny and Papaw had the biggest garden of anyone in my family.

I remember Papaw would head out the garden after Ash Wednesday and "turn the soil".

When Chuck, Donishia and I would go to visit, Nanny and Papaw would load us up in the truck and head to the Farmers COOP to get seeds.

I used to LOVE planting potatoes!

There was something magical about chopping up one potato and planting it to make 5 or 6 new plants!

As the days got longer and the air thicker with humidity, the tiny plants would begin bursting out of the earth.

Onions, peppers, collard greens, okra, all varieties of squash... their yard became a cornucopia of all things delicious!

When it was time for picking, we'd wait for the sun to start setting so as to avoid heat stroke... and then nanny would pull out some big old dish pans which we'd use to carry the veggies into the carport.

I don't think there are any vegetables that I don't like. But there are some that I like more than others.

There was nothing like picking a "mess" of purple hull peas or green beans.

Those, we'd carry over to Granny Tinder's porch.

Then, late in the evening, we'd sit out there with a series of dishpans "hullin" or "snappin", depending on what we were working on.

I remember our fingers would be dyed purple from the pea hulls... and the entire porch would fill up with that wonderful aroma of fresh, green, delicious vegetables.

For us, THAT was the evening news... Granny, Snooks, Nanny and any other cousin or aunt would join us and we'd all share the things we had heard.

"Did you hear about Sister Johnson?" Nanny would say...

No matter what had happened to Sister Johnson, the story would usually end with a "Bless her heart" or a quick one line "Jesus bless her and her family... amen"

It's so amazing... I remember that we were ALL pretty much dirt poor. But no one in the community really seemed to go without.

Small towns, in those days, seemed to purposely disconnect themselves from the happenings in the world... and neighbors focused on what they could do to make sure everyone they knew had plenty to eat and a friend to talk to.

Nanny was amazing in her ability to turn 3 acres of garden into a year's worth of canned goods for herself, and her 3 kids' families.

There was nothing like opening a can of peas in the winter, that you knew YOU had hulled, and helped prepare... and oh what I'd give for a jar of Nanny's homemade beef soup!

What I think separates my generation from theirs is that nowadays, when people get into a bind, they turn to the government for a handout.

Their generation turned to each other.

I have to say, I like their system better.