| November 05 '05 |
|
| Volume 492 |
|
Iuka Continued
Frank, East Port & Billie
An accounting of our trip to Iuka began last week
with us leaving Pontotoc and ended with an experience involving a small gray
spider. This article picks up as we left Tupelo having stopped for gasoline
and allowing Barbara time to pickup something from McRae’s at the Mall.
My granddaughters, Merilese and Katherine, were relatively good little girls
on the remainder of the trip to Belmont, but they took to singing at one
point and had Miss Virginia joining them on a couple of songs. I prefer singing
to crying, so I tried not to complain about my circumstances, and I did learn
a few new verses to some old songs, like "Found A Peanut."
Miss Virginia phoned her friend who had invited us for coffee to let her
know it would be shortly after noon before we would arrive in Iuka. Barbara
phoned Rayanne to confirm the time Rayanne expected to get home and was told
the house wasn’t locked. Of course, the house was locked, but
Rayanne’s arrival was only a few minutes later. We refreshed ourselves
and were soon back on the highway.
Rolling into Tishomingo, MS, I told Miss Virginia that the small town had
a Sunflower grocery store, which prompted her to reply that she wished we
still had one in Pontotoc.
"We put up that marker," she suddenly offered, as we approached a four-way
stop.
"Who…what marker?" I asked.
At the northeast corner of the intersection was a small granite marker with
a metal plate noting where the original Natchez Trace passed through Tishomingo.
Miss Virginia said she and several of Pontotoc’s Daughters of The American
Revolution (DAR) had helped secure and dedicate the historical marker.
"Frank Elizabeth lives just past an automobile dealership on old Hwy. 25,"
Miss Virginia shared later, as we neared Iuka. "She has such a beautiful
place, but she fusses about living next to a car dealer."
Entering the circular drive, we parked near the front entrance to her
friend’s home, exited the car, and knocked loudly on the front door.
"She probably doesn’t hear us," Miss Virginia commented as she opened
the door and called out, "Frank…Frank Elizabeth!"
With no response, Miss Virginia headed deeper into the house calling her
friend’s name, as Barbara and I remained just inside the entrance. Finally,
the two old friends found each other, and Barbara and I were soon introduced
to Frank Elizabeth Drake. We had been there perhaps fifteen minutes when
Miss Frank Elizabeth’s son, Tommy, came by to bring his mother a few
things and check on her well-being. Miss Frank Elizabeth served everyone
coffee as we visited.
Tommy explained he had taken an early retirement offer from TVA and had never
regretted it. He continues to live in Alabama, but keeps close tabs on his
mother, even to the point of helping her get rid of a skunk that took up
residence in the duct-work of the central air and heating system. It was
a chore that’s too complex to take up here, though the entire ducting
system had to be replaced.
I think all of us would have enjoyed spending the entire afternoon there,
but Miss Frank Elizabeth was only one of the friends we had traveled to visit
and her house was but one of the several we hoped to see.
Naturally, Iuka’s best restaurant was closed on Saturday afternoon,
and while the restaurant at Pickwick Lake would be open until two o’clock
it was too far away for us to get there before closing, not with our stomachs
growling the way they were. Tommy and Miss Frank Elizabeth had suggested
a Chinese restaurant and a Mexican restaurant, but no one in my group cared
for either. When we spotted a Jack’s hamburger restaurant, we decided
we could find something to our liking inside, and we pulled into the parking
lot.
We all ordered chicken plates, Barbara and Miss Virginia chose chicken strips,
and I picked out a two-piece dinner of fried chicken. And, with a couple
of side dishes, we ate and left Jack’s with full stomachs and a satisfying
dining experience.
I noted it was two o’clock when we left the parking lot of the restaurant.
"Where to now?" I asked Miss Virginia.
"Let’s go to East Port," she responded, "If that’s okay with you."
We drove past the school building where I began the First Grade, and past
Mineral Springs Park before taking the turn off Hwy. 72 for East Port.
"My grandfather’s house is right there," Miss Virginia stated pointed
to a painted house with a tin roof beside the highway. "Pull in the driveway;
I don’t think anybody is living here."
I wasn’t as sure about the vacancy as she was, for there were a couple
of vehicles in the back yard. I made my way to the front porch, through grass
deep enough to hide a good-sized snake, and knocked on the front door. Noticing
the condition of the ceiling of the front porch and the fact that no one
came to the door, I concluded the house was vacant. Meanwhile Miss Virginia
and Barbara were out picking up black walnuts, which Miss Virginia claimed
she wanted to send to her brother.
"All this land you see on both sides of the road, belonged to my grandfather,"
she shared. "He owned one hundred acres. I hear someone built a mansion up
on that hill across the highway. Let’s drive over there and see if we
can locate it."
We wound our way along a narrow, white-topped road to the top of the hill,
but didn’t see the mansion.
"I’ll bet that was the driveway we passed back at the foot of the hill,"
she reasoned. "There’s a huckleberry (or was it hackberry) bush. I used
to walk all over these hills when I was a girl, but I couldn’t do it
now."
Judging from the steep slopes I doubted I could, either. We drove back to
where we had seen the driveway, but the "No Trespassing" sign dampened our
enthusiasm for seeing a mansion. We turned to drive toward East Port and
were soon blessed with the beautiful sights adjacent to the Tennessee River.
We passed a marina and several cabins before coming
to the dead end that Miss Virginia remembered as the special, secret place
of her childhood years. We parked the car at an overlook affording us a grand
view of the dark blue waters of the Tennessee River and the opposite shorelines
of Alabama and Tennessee. In the photo of Miss Virginia and Barbara, Alabama
is behind them, and though you can’t see the shoreline to Miss
Virginia’s right, that’s the direction of the Volunteer state.
Apparently, Miss Virginia’s secret place has long since been found.
While we were there, another couple from Pontotoc County pulled nearby to
enjoy the beautiful view. Miss Virginia, who’s never met a stranger,
asked them where they lived and told them we were also from Pontotoc. They
introduced themselves as from Furrs but failed to indicate their marital
status, and we didn’t press them for details.
As we left East Port, Miss Virginia commented that we probably didn’t
have time to drive to Pickwick and J.P. Coleman State Park.
"My parent’s house is gone," she stated. "So, there’s not much
to see. Let’s go check on Billie Burke."
Our route took us through downtown Iuka, to a house directly across the street
from Iuka’s First Baptist Church. Iuka’s downtown is about as dead
on a Saturday afternoon as that of Pontotoc’s downtown. Shopping centers,
super-centers, and malls have all but killed off the downtowns of rural America.
"Billie Burke’s father was the doctor who delivered me," Miss Virginia
shared as we stepped onto the porch of the two story brick house. "This house
has fourteen bedrooms."
"She may not be home," Miss Virginia stated, as we waited, after I rang the
doorbell. We were at the point of walking away, when the front door of the
1902 house opened to reveal an elderly woman with a huge smile of welcome.
Mrs. Billie Burke Thomas led us through her spacious, old home, to a corner
room at the back of the house; a room Miss Virginia claims hasn’t changed
since her teen years in which she often visited her best friend.
Seeing the happiness on the faces of two women who share
many youthful memories but are unable to see each other as often as they
might like was something I won’t soon forget, and I’ll count our
moments there as time well spent.
Miss Billie Burke has two sons who live with her when they are not on a musical
tour. They were, at the time of our visit, entertaining lovers of Blues in
England and Ireland with their own compositions.
We left Miss Billie Burke with no less regret than our leaving Miss Frank
Elizabeth a couple of hours earlier, but there were other sites to see while
daylight remained.
…to be concluded next week.
Mom’s
Birthday 17th Posthumous Celebration
My mother would have been eighty-seven last week, had she lived this long,
but she lost a brief bout with cancer in 1989 and was buried on the day that
would have been her 71st birthday. None of us can remember when
she began the tradition of celebrating her birthday by serving her family
a Sunday dinner of chicken and dressing, but it was something she started
before Dad died in ’78. Mom simply picked the Sunday closest to her
birthday for the meal my family most often associates with the fall and winter
holidays. Few folks could make a batch of chicken and dressing as good as
Mom, but she taught my wife how to make it almost as good as hers.
We credit Barbara with the good sense to honor Mom by continuing to celebrate
her birthday, in like fashion, beginning with the Sunday after we buried
Mom. Mom loved to cook for her family, and I can think of no better way to
memorialize her than by dedicating one of her favorite meals to her in the
family tradition she established.
Typically, Barbara plans for the meal to include chicken and dressing, English
peas, yams (candied or in a casserole), mashed potatoes (we always had Irish
potatoes for dinner at Mom’s), and cranberry sauce. Sarah prepares corn
and green bean casserole and either sweet potato pie or pecan pie, plus a
congealed dessert. Everyone gathers at our house for the birthday dinner,
but Sarah treats us at her place on Thanksgiving before returning to our
house for Christmas dinner. There may be a better plan, but we haven’t
found it.
As Sarah’s children have grown and our children have grown, we sometimes
look around the table at empty chairs that our children once filled, but
we often find a place for non-family members, which was the case this year.
Barbara invited Linda Maddox, who is recuperating from a work related driving
injury and is being paid by her employer to help with the office work for
Pontotoc County Habitat for Humanity until she is doctor-certified as able
to resume her truck-driving responsibilities. We didn’t set a record
for turnout this year, but as I recall there were eleven of us present for
the delicious meal, which, in addition to the foods mentioned above, included
some pretty fine sweet potato cornbread made by Linda.
Sarah had to be at work by two o’clock, Sunday afternoon, and with Rayanne
needing to be in Belmont for a four o’clock meeting, there was not a
lot of time for visiting. In fact, someone noted how similar our celebration
was to Christmas…a lot of work and planning in getting ready for something
that’s over in about an hour. Still, we enjoyed our time together as
a family and look forward to the next family celebration.
Bodock Beau
Short Ones
Derwood Young and I were discussing our shared enjoyment of cooking and eating
when he mentioned that he’d often seen Justin Wilson’s Cajun cooking
program, but never had the opportunity to sample anything Justin cooked.
It was when he allowed, "but I always wanted to," that Derwood remembered
the following tale of a city slicker and a farmer.
A city slicker who was out driving his new car in the country and packing
a new revolver was anxious to fire his weapon for the sport of it. Seeing
a lone farmer plowing a field with a mule, he reckoned he might just have
a bit of fun.
He approached the farmer and asked him if he could dance. When the farmer
answered that he could not the city slicker began shooting near the feet
of the farmer, who responded by dancing out of harm’s way.
"See there, you can dance," the city-slicker chuckled as the revolver clicked
empty.
The farmer produced a double-barreled shotgun and asked, "Have you ever kissed
the rear end of a mule?"
"No, but I’ve always wanted to," said the city-slicker.
Which Is It?
News that her third child was going to be a girl thrilled my cousin, who
already had two boys.
"My husband wants to call her Sunny," she told me, "and I want to give her
Anna as her middle name in memory of my mom."
I thought they might want to reconsider their decision, since their birth
announcement would herald the arrival of Sunny Anna Rainey.
Three Coons
Sounds of crashing and banging in the middle of the night sent me and my
husband out to our garage. There we spotted three raccoons eating out of
the cat dish. We shooed them away and went back to bed.
Later that week we were driving home and I noticed three fat raccoons ambling
down the road.
"Do you think those are the same ones we chased off?" I asked.
"Hard to tell," said my husband. "They were wearing
masks."
Old Doors
We got lucky when we heard the old Piedmont Hotel in Atlanta was getting
a face-lift and its beautiful maple doors became available for sale as salvage
items. We bought several and had them installed in our 19th-century home.
Showing a friend around our house, I pointed out, "You know, many of these
doors are from the Piedmont Hotel."
He raised an eyebrow. "Most people just take towels."
Free Box
At their tag sale, my daughters put all of the "junk" they just wanted to
get rid of in a carton they marked "Free Box." Moments after they set it
at the foot of the driveway, a man drove up, looked at the box, dumped its
contents on the lawn and drove off with it.
Source www.rd.com
Home
Copyright © 2000 - 2005 RRN
Online.
