Screened Porch
Kindling A Memory
In the Deep South the screened-in porch has gone the way of the
mule-drawn cultivator. One hardly sees either of them anymore. Gasoline tractors
and different farming methods ushered in the demise of the mule-drawn cultivator,
while rural electrification and air conditioning have all but eliminated
the need for a screened-in porch. (While it may be more proper to use "screened
porch," in my family I most often heard others speak of a "screened-in porch.")
It’s not been that long ago that a screened-in porch was a desirable
enclosure and an affordable option for those of modest means. My
grandparent’s house near Thaxton, MS, once had a screened-in front porch.
The porch was where grown-ups gathered after a long day in the fields, once
supper was eaten and the table was cleaned off. The screen kept most flies,
wasps, dirt daubers, and hornets on the outside which gave porch-sitters
more time to swing, rock, sit, spin yarns, fan a breeze, or relax, instead
of having to keep a swatter handy to ward of the insects. In the summers
that I helped Granddad for a couple of weeks, we used to nap a half-hour
or so right after dinner (lunch) before going back to work in the fields
until close to sundown.
Of all the places my folks lived during my formative years, and of all the
housing we rented, none of them had a screened-in front porch, though a few
may have had a screened-in back porch. Yet, soon after Uncle Lamar helped
Dad buy the old Owen place on Woodland Street, around 1957, and my grandparents
moved into one side of our house, the front porch was partly screened. I
believe the main entrance was left unscreened, so persons making a dash up
the front steps in a rainstorm didn’t have to stop and open a screen
door to get in out of the rain.
My grandparents both died in 1960, and the screened-in porch didn’t
get as much use as it did before their deaths. Eventually, the screened area
was dismantled and the porch took on the look it had when my family first
moved there. Apart from the front door and windows being replaced in recent
years, the front porch looks much the same as it did fifty years ago.
I don’t expect screened-in porches, or even porches for sitting, will
see a resurgence of popularity anytime soon. Folks have become too spoiled
to the comforts of air conditioning, most folks, that is. There are still
some folks who appreciate the sounds and smells of the out-of-doors enough
to endure what might be discomfort for some, and these rare folks have found
a new way to enjoy themselves that is similar to the pleasure once derived
from a screened-in porch, namely the covered and screened patio.
A plain patio can be enjoyed just so much. After all, in our temperate climate
some days are too hot and some are too cold to sit on a patio. Some are also
too wet. Of course "too hot" is relative and the temperature of the patio
can be adjusted by providing some sort of shade. Shade can be a wooden trellis
such as a pergola, with or without climbing vegetation, and shade can be
a constructed extension of the roofline to cover the patio. Naturally, a
roof would protect a patio-sitter even on a wet day.
A couple of years ago, Barbara’s niece, Cheryl Radford,
contracted with a firm to build an aluminum framed, screened enclosure for
her patio. It turned out so well, especially with Cheryl’s flair for
accessorizing, that the company asked permission to photograph the finished
project to use in their promotional literature. Barbara and I have visited
Cheryl several times since she had her patio screened in and once brought
back a brochure to show Sara Sue. Sara must have like what she saw, for when
she retired from teaching, at the beginning of summer, she stated a desire
to do something similar with her patio.
We contacted Cheryl, who got in touch with the company that did her work
and soon afterwards I was measuring Sara’s patio and sending pictures
and statistics to Cheryl’s contractor, Paul Ollar, who provided Sara
an estimate to cover and screen her 14’ X 20’ patio. Personally,
I thought the project was a little pricey, but Sara was determined, and after
meeting with Paul to go over the terms and conditions, signed a contract
with work to begin shortly afterwards.
On the Monday after the fish fry, a day I had set aside for recuperation,
I borrowed a neighbor’s pressure washer and used it to blast off years
of mildew on the concrete steps and the patio. Sara had considered tiling
over the concrete but now that the patio looks almost new, she’s likely
to use an indoor/outdoor rug, instead.
It only took two workers ten hours to erect the covered and
screened patio. Everyone who has seen it agrees that it is an attractive
addition to Sara’s house. Sara bought a new set of patio furniture and
an oscillating fan to keep a breeze stirring and is now in the process of
selecting a variety of potted plants to green-up the patio. It may take several
years for her to realize much in energy savings with an awning shading her
sliding glass doors from the afternoon sun, but it’s easy to tell a
difference in the temperature of the dining room with the patio covered.
Sarah is already enjoying her screened-in patio, for late evening reading
and relaxation. She bought a set of dominos, as well, and she and Felicia
were playing the parlor game the other evening when Barbara and I dropped
in to cool down following our evening walk.
The pictures shown in this article should give the reader an idea of the
before and after, but if one needs a closer look, I’m sure Sarah would
welcome visitors. If she’s not home, stop by my place and Barbara or
I will be glad to give the tour.
Happy Hollow II
Reader Comments
Floyd McCullough’s recently shared childhood memory of Happy Hollow
stirred a few readers to comment. JoAnne Bradley mentioned her enjoyment
of the article in her newspaper column, and Jim Hess phoned to say he had
trouble visualizing Mr. Floyd as anything but the dignified and distinguished
church leader he knew during his years as Minister of Music at FBC Pontotoc.
Jim added he now has a good idea what to get Mr. Floyd for Christmas (a box
of matches).
June Coker Byrd sent a couple of memories associated with Happy Hollow and
included one version of how Happy Hollow derived its name.
June’s memory follows:
Mr. Earl and Happy Hollow
Ginger Rodgers and I were the "Bobsey Twins" during our PHS years in the
early 1950s. Virtually every school night Ginger either spent the night at
my house or I at hers. Ginger was the daughter of Earl and Hazel Rodgers,
who at that time were both teachers at the Zion elementary school and livedin
the "principal's house" adjacent to the school.
Nights were especially quiet in the Zion Community. Mr. Earl's "tale telling"
was our usual evening entertainment those many, many nights I spent in his
home. As Mr. Earl had grown up in Happy Hollow, so many of his "tales" were
about Happy Hollow.
One of his favorites, which he never tired of telling, regarded Miss Edna
and Miss Mandy Belle Hicks. Apparently they were well known as "prim and
proper" young ladies of the neighborhood. On Wednesday nights the Hicks sisters
regularly attended prayer meeting and during fall and winter months it was
dark when they walked home. Mr. Earl had their prayer meeting schedule down
pat. He would hide under the bridge in wait of them
returning home from prayer meeting. Just as they got ON the bridge he would
let out a spooky low pitched, "Gooooooooooooo Prayyyyyyyyyyyy!" The Hicks
sisters would then strike out in a run "faster than greased lightning." He
swore they always thought it was God Himself.
I thought you might especially enjoy Mr. Earl's story of how Happy Hollow
got its name--------
Back when the Indians occupied Pontotoc, their council house was located
somewhere near the present Court Square. The area that we know as Happy Hollow
was a thicket of masses of wild grapes, which the Indians used for making
wine. They kept their wine stored and hidden in the middle of this thicket.
Most of their tribal ceremonies and gatherings were held in the vicinity
of their council house. During their gatherings or meetings those
who ventured into this thicketed hollow returned "happy", and thus the Happy
Hollow name that has prevailed until today.
This may simply be a "tale" with no basis in truth, but it is the "tale"
of how Happy Hollow got its name as told by Mr. Earl to his daughter, Ginger,
and me more than fifty years ago.
By June Coker Byrd
Color
Matters Rooms To Roofs
Color matters! From food to furniture and from walls to websites color plays
an important role in whether or not we like something.
Blue is the most popular color, but most of us avoid foods that are blue.
We prefer foods that are red, green, or brown.
Color matters! A red room promotes aggression in children, and gamblers place
riskier bets in a red environment. Workers, who complained that their offices
were too cold, shed their sweaters when the blue walls were painted a bright
peach, even though the temperature settings remained the same.
Color matters! In fashion, black is slimming and is always stylish, though
it is sometimes associated with evil villains such as Dracula. While red
is a sensuous color it also makes its wearers appear heavier than they are.
Color matters! Psychologically, blue has a calming effect on people and is
recommended by job consultants for interviews. Blue, they say, symbolizes
loyalty.
Color matters! A minor uproar was recently heard when Pontotoc Junior High
was being repainted. A number of folks voiced displeasure with the brick-red
paint that trimmed the brown brick building. When the color was negatively
reported in the local newspaper, the superintendent called the newspaper
to explain the red paint was a primer and that the building would be trimmed
in tan. Tan must be in the eye of the beholder, because the new color is
obviously taupe. The whole episode blew over almost as quickly as it began.
Personally, I thought the red paint looked okay, but I began to wonder what
was wrong with me, as usually I’m among the first to resist change.
I don’t like the looks of the taupe, so I’m hoping when it begins
to peel, the superintendent will return the trim on the High School of my
youth to its original color, white.
Color matters! First Baptist Church, Pontotoc has had a red tiled roof on
its sanctuary building since early last century. Church members voted to
add two new buildings to the present three-building complex a couple of years
ago, buildings that are now under construction. Church members were assured
the additions would blend harmoniously with the present buildings including
brick color and roof color. All of the architectural drawings depicted the
proposed buildings with red metal roofs. I never saw the red metal roofing
that arrived for the gym and was rejected by those with the authority to
reject, but I was told it "clashed" with the roof color of the sanctuary.
The rest of the explanation is vague, but I understand the desired color
was not available from a particular supplier, and in order not to delay
construction, those with authority selected a white roof. The uproar over
the painting of the Junior High pales compared to that of some irate Baptists,
who are now embarrassed Baptists, because they have a building that sticks
out like a sore thumb. Were we Catholics, we'd call the roof fiasco
The Immaculate Deception, and we might do so anyway.
Color matters!
Bodock Beau
Mexican Fisherman
Which is the greater sadness, to be miserable in one’s vocation and
continue working in misery or to enjoy the simple pleasures of life without
appreciating them? Blessed is the man or woman who finds pleasure and
satisfaction in his or her profession.
Mexican fisherman
A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented
the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took
him to catch them.
"Not very long," answered the Mexican.
"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the
American.
The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs
and those of his family.
The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"
"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with
my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a
few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs…I have a full
life."
The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you!
You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra
fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."
And after that?" asked the Mexican.
With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one
and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead
of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with
the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave
this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York
City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."
"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.
"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.
"And after that?"
"Afterwards? Well my Friend, That's when it gets really interesting," answered
the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start
selling stocks and make millions!"
"Millions? Really? And after that?" said the Mexican.
"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast,
sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with
your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."
And the moral is: Know where you're going in life... you may already be there.
Submitted by Ken Gaillard
Wired For Sound
A rather frugal man was becoming increasingly hard of hearing. He decided
a hearing aid was too expensive, so he wrapped a piece of ordinary wire around
his ear.
"Do you hear better now with that wire around your ear?" asked a curious
friend.
"Not really," the man replied. "But everybody who sees it talks louder."
Laugh Letter - August 2005
Rieman Publications
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