I have discussed my Grandmothers in a previous post, but for this Mother's day, I'd like to explore how they shaped the Old man On The Porch I am today. Naturally I have to include the most influential lady that made me, my Mom.
I have described my maternal grandma
Odella Thomas Brown as "tough as nails" and that is no exaggeration. My neighbor, Billy Ray and I would ride our bikes 6.5 miles to Pine Ridge to visit his grandmother and mine in the springtime. We'd spend the morning searching arrowheads and spearheads in the back corner of the field, next to the swamp that has flooded way too many times recently, after the field was prepared and unearthed new finds. Mrs. Perry made the best Kool Aide I have ever tasted, much better than the corporate kind I have to swallow these days. She usually had a ham biscuit or cake for us. We'd then travel over to my Grandma Brown's house when it was too hot to remain in the field. Grandma Brown never had air conditioning, or indoor plumbing, but it was shaded by huge pecan trees and a large pair tree. Both were awesome treats to snack on. She drew all her water from a shallow well hand pump just outside the back door of the kitchen. The walkway to the pump was a rough cut 1" x 10" board to keep from tracking in mud from the yard. She had a pail in the kitchen with a dipper, or ladle by today's terms, that everybody drank directly from. We never used glasses at her house. She had to heat all her water on the stove or wood heater, so it was best not to dirty up many dishes, anyway. No one died from it, so I guess the high mineral content and irony taste in the water killed all the bacteria. You could see a skim on the water in the pail before you dipped in to get a drink. I was in high school when my uncles installed an electric pump to the kitchen sink so she no longer had to tote water in. Still, the best drink was directly out of that old hand pump on a hot afternoon! At the entrance to her garden, was two huge mill stones we played on. To this day, I have no idea where those stones came from, or why they were there, but they were fun to play on. Behind the barn, was Granddaddy's stash of empty liquor bottles that I took great delight in breaking. It's a wonder I never put my eye out breaking glass bottles. Grandma Brown loved puzzles and always had one in various stages of completion. She was also hostess to the ladies of the community for quilting in the living room each fall. There were four hooks in the ceiling she'd hang the quilting frame from to stretch the blocks of square cloth as the ladies worked from all four sides to hand sew them together. My sister has the quilt she made from her wedding dress, and you just can't buy anything more precious than that. Sleepovers at Grandma Brown's house were the best sleep ever. Each bed in her house had a down filled feather pad that you'd sink into and surround you like a cocoon. You did not toss and turn in her bed, especially under one (or more) of her quilts. Her house was always immaculate, even though she never owned a store bought broom. She made her own brooms from the tall wheat grass bundled together and tied with string or wire to make the handle. They were about three feet long or so, and she had to stoop over to use them, but they were highly effective and the woman never complained about anything, including pain, although she did teach me the pleasure of washing dishes in hot water to relieve joint pain! Her love of puzzles and such, is very likely the reason I became an Engineer as my career. I love making things from small pieces, puzzles, quilts and finding unique ways to solve problems. Not to mention a wrap around porch is mandatory for a good life!
I spent most of my childhood next door with my paternal grandma,
Delcie Hoggard Mizelle. Standing next to her in this picture, is my Uncle Bill, who came a long a bit later than my Dad and his sisters. Basically, he was only a few years older than my cousins and Grandma Mizelle was always called Grandma Bill by my cousins and me. They lived on a farm of 100 acres in the middle of Bertie County in northeastern NC. There was a little patch of woods between our houses connected by a path my Dad and Grandad made to run a water line between our houses. My Uncle Bill's house is on top of where that path used to be. I spent every day at Grandma Bill's house playing in the dirt, in the old pack house, wood shed and smoke house. Even a bit in the hog pin just behind her house. There was rusted nails, tin, boards with splinters and lots of dangerous play areas a kid like me totally enjoyed. I never wore shoes in the summer, except tp go to church on Sunday, and I know very well what it feels like to walk into the chicken coop and step in squishy chicken droppings. Often, my cousins Ronnie and Michael would also come over to play in the dangerous playground. My first exposure to a major DIY construction project was led by cousin Ronnie, who supervised the construction of a multi-level tree house right where Uncle Bill's living room is today. Ronnie had the penthouse level, the next down was for Michael or my sister Vicki and the lowest level was mine. Eventually, Ronnie grew up to hang more with Uncle Bill, and Michael and I became the tree house construction crew. Having an almost unlimited supply of boards with bent rusted nails, we built our ultimate tree house in a perfect tree between the two tobacco barns. It had a split trunk that allowed a grand base for the main floor, burlap walls and rusted ti roof. We added on to it every chance we could and eventually had a outdoor deck about two feet wide we could rest and view the hog pin on summer afternoons. There was no ladder to get in it, you wedged yourself between the two tree trunks and shimmied on your back up to a trap door in the floor. Pre-Engineer me took a flashlight apart and using surplus electric fence wire, two "D cell" batteries and the bulb added mood lighting to the tree house. I drove two nails in the tree and bent one over to create the switch. What I didn't anticipate was the sneaky current flow between the nails through the sap in the tree, which killed the batteries in a few minutes, but I can say I had electric lights in a tree house many years before they did it on TV. Our safety record was impeccable and we never fell out of a tree, smashed our fingers or died lugging boards up with ropes. The only person to fall out of it was my idiot neighbor JD who decided it was better to enter through the burlap window than to slither on his back into the trap door. I've told y'all Grandma Bill was also a great cook and she always had special treats for her farm workers. Her leftover biscuits with molasses or honey will never leave my mind. Again, in the sanitation world, she had a sink on the back porch with a shared glass everybody drank from. You sanitized it by rinsing it several times to get the cool water from the well on a hot day. She drove a 1959 Ford with three on the tree that was a joy to ride in holding onto the metal dashboard and she went through the gears on the way to the store a couple miles down the road. She kept her eye on us from the house, but she taught me independence, recycling and to never waste anything!
When I touch my belly button, I am touching the last physical connection I had with my Mom, but my sister and I always had a very tight bond with
Mamie Brown Mizelle. I am not ashamed to admit I was and always will be a Mama's boy. My earliest memory of this lady was when she'd pull my toes and say "this little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home..." I loved the wee wee wee all the way home part and would giggle until she did it again! Her purse always smelled like Juicy Fruit gum because she always had some in there, and I never understood it, but she only chewed half a stick at a time, so there was always a half stick in there which was just perfect to keep a kid quiet in church. She had the same pet peeve I have of despising someone shuffling their feet when they walk. Not much else bothered her, though. She never met a stranger in her life, but I was an extremely shy child and would hide behind her dress. That smile on her face in this picture was permanent, even when she was in pain, just like Grandma Brown. She worked retail at Catoin Windsor and Ahoskie and eventually atthe counrtystore in elm Grove. Later, her and Dad rented and ran the store for several years. She retired from Purdue Farms chicken processing plant in Lewiston. Regardless of which meal she cooked, there were always biscuits on the table. And of course, butter beans. Her collards were legendary and always requested at pot luck dinners and family gatherings, and her potato salad was a close second to her Mom's. She had a green thumb and loved roses, which was the only thing she could never grow in the yard. When she was annoyed with us kids, she often had trouble getting our names right. I was often called me Vi-Russell and Vicki was called ruh-Vicki. Later she'd mix our names with her dog Buffy and I became buh-Russell. Cute and we always laughed about it and she never stayed annoyed with us. She too loved puzzles and I always gave her the most complicated ones I could find at Christmas, but she often accused me of hiding a critical piece since they were often laid out on a card table for a few weeks while being assembled. we miss her dearly, not just the family, but everyone that ever met her. She taught me how to cut the cheese. Literally, we sold a sharp cheddar cheese at the store we had to hand cut wedges from to customer specs of a pound or half pound as well as luncheon and baloney That came in 5lbs tins. We even sold bread by the slice and the customers could assemble their own sandwiches, since we weren't technically a restaurant. We'd even open cans of pork-n-beans before pull tops were invented and chat while they ate lunch in the store. The women sat at the back of the store near the counter while the men sat near the front discussing politics, weather and sharing fishing stories.
I could go on for hours about these special ladies, all true southern bells that were not afraid of hard work and providing for the family, community and friends who made me who I am today. I have zero tolerance for anyone that disrespects or ignores their Moms. Even if she's a horrible person in jail, she is still your Mom and deserves at least a phone call
on
Mother's Day.
Happy Mother's Day to all
Moms and future Moms. You are all the greatest gift the world has ever received
!
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