wisermeany | Failing To Act Normal Since March 2009

A Post about Simpler Times

My grandma’s favorite song. She passed before I ever got to really know her, but rumor has it she was kind of an amazing gal. My mom gets teary eyes when she hears it.

My family is from the Ozarks in Missouri and my grandma insisted the family move to California so they wouldn’t be redneck. Never-mind the fact that their front yard was full of shot gun shells from shooting at squirrels (I used to walk around and collect them for whatever reason) and dead crows hung from the trees because they thought it’d scare the crows from eating their crops. When their house caught fire and burnt down, they rebuilt it with a wood burning cook-stove again. No modern appliances needed, thank you very much. These “rednecks” would give you the shirt off their backs if you showed up at their house. Unexpected visitors would get a full meal. I’d watch them pull out a metal coffee can, spoon some bacon grease out of it, put it in a cast iron skillet and cook you a fine breakfast, with fresh made corn bread to boot.

Farm people are a tough breed. I remember in my grandpa’s end days he lived with us and he fell….hard. He broke some ribs and his leg. My mom asked him if he wanted some cornbread before she called the ambulance. Old guy insisted on having fresh made cornbread from scratch before the ambulance was called because he knew the food would suck at the hospital.

Sometimes my grandpa would feed the hogs day old donuts and I can remember my cousins and I running out to the trough to get to them before the hogs did….why? Cuz chocolate. STFU THEY WERE ON TOP, OK?