| January 14 '06 |
|
| Volume 502 |
|
Baptist Blues
Jeans And Things
Among the records beside the
hand-cranked record player at my grandparents house near Thaxton, MS, was
a recording that lamented the plight of cotton farmers caused by the lowly
boll weevil. As I recall, part of the lyrics stated:
"Now the first time I seen the boll weevil,
He was settin' on the square.
The next time I seen the boll weevil,
He had his whole family there,
Just a lookin' for a home. Just a lookin' for a home."
Note: "Square" is an immature cotton boll.
I don't have the statistics at hand, but I'm reasonably certain the boll
weevil caused more damage to the cotton industry than did the famed march
by the Union's General William Tecumseh Sherman through parts of the South
during the Civil War, or as we Southerners prefer, "The War Of Northern
Aggression."
In my youth, during the cotton blooming season, I personally battled the
boll weevil, using first a powdered pesticide and later a diluted but generous
dosage of the pesticide, methyl parathion. That battle led to a desire on
my part to become a chemist and find something that would eradicate the boll
weevil and cure the cotton farmer's ills. However, my chemistry professors
at Ole Miss helped convinced me I should pursue other career interests, and
I abandoned my dream of glory in eradication of the boll weevil.
I remember singing the boll weevil song back in the early sixties, as I sprayed
our small cotton patch with pesticide, and, over the years, I've often associated
the boll weevil song with other events. For me, the boll weevil in the song
portrays that which represents a threat, first by showing up unexpectedly
where it isn't wanted and later as a force to be reckoned with because of
sheer numbers or its magnitude.
For example, the boll weevil of equal housing opportunity showed up a few
years ago and once a given neighborhood had a few minorities to move in,
it wasn't long before the boll weevil had his whole family there.
About three years ago, FBC, Pontotoc initiated an outreach ministry of sorts,
something labeled as "Come And See." The idea of which was to encourage persons
to come to church by removing some of the barriers that folks erect as excuses
for not attending church.
"We'll invite folks to come dressed in regular clothes, and we'll make them
feel comfortable by dressing the same way," our church leaders explained.
"Let them come as they are and see what a difference Jesus can make!"
I remembered the boll weevil song the first time I heard about a "Come and
See" Sunday Morning service.
"Yeah, right!" I thought. "Give Baptists an excuse to dress for church in
casual clothes and the next thing you know, folks will be wearing casual
clothes to church every Sunday."
Sure enough, in the course of a year or so, hundreds of folks were showing
up for church dressed in a lot less than their "Sunday best."
Nowadays, on any given Sunday, men and boys can be found throughout the sanctuary
wearing polo shirts, or buttoned shirts without a necktie, while pants are
in vogue for women and girls.
Personally, I've never looked down on anyone's choice of church clothes,
if it appeared the individual was wearing the cleanest and best clothes he
or she had. And, I'm reasonably certain it doesn't matter to God what one
is wearing so much as it does the condition of one's heart. However, I don't
feel that a Christian should take lightly his or her appearance when entering
a house of worship.
Perhaps my fellow Baptists need to be reminded of the words of an old hymn,
a hymn we used to sing a lot.
"Give of your best to the Master, give Him first place in your heart.
Give Him first place in your service, consecrate every part.
Give, and to you will be given,
God His beloved Son gave.
Gratefully seeking to serve Him, give Him the best that you have."
Refrain:
"Give of your best to the Master;
Give of the strength of your youth.
Clad in Salvation's full armor;
Join in the battle for truth."
For my part, "Give of your best to the Master," includes what one wears entering
His presence in a house of worship.
The boll weevil of casual dress showed up at FBC, Pontotoc a few years ago
and dang if now he hasn't got his whole family there. And, not only is his
whole family there, but some of them even have on blue jeans. Blue jeans
in a Baptist Church were once considered the epitome of "what not to wear,"
but from time to time one can even find an usher wearing jeans at FBC, Pontotoc.
FBC, Pontotoc recently started a third morning worship service in the church's
new gym. Like the "Come and See" Sundays, the gym service is designed to
appeal to those who don't feel comfortable in a traditional house of worship.
As long as one doesn't show up in high heels (bad for the gym floor), one
can pretty much dress as he or she chooses for the gym service. Blue jeans,
flip flops, tank tops, etc., are not traditional items for wearing to a church
worship service, but the gym service is not a traditional service.
One would think that given a choice between worshiping in a gym and worshiping
in a sanctuary, which has the most beautiful stained glass windows of about
any church in Northeast Mississippi, anyone would choose the sanctuary. But,
currently, the balcony of the sanctuary is almost empty and most of its former
occupants can be found in the gym.
Whether or not unbelievers will be brought into the fold through efforts
such as the new gym service remains to be seen, but there's one thing of
which I am certain¾ the boll weevil of casual
dress just found a big new square to call home. I'm too old to embark on
an eradication program, but I remain hopeful a "cure" will be found in my
lifetime.
Friday
Peddler By Carl Wayne Hardeman
My bride, Mimi, lived as a small child on a small farm on the road between
Hurricane and Thaxton, now called Wells Road. All the roads are named and
homes have been numbered. It has something to do with the 9-1-1 service.
The road splits the rich loess filled plain between the low ridge of Smoketop
and the ridge which Duncan Creek meanders along by.
Mimi is the only child of Ralph and Opal Graham, who live there now. Her
grandparents were Sanford and Thelma (Waites) Graham and Carl and Eula (Vaughn)
Hayse. Carl Hayse was also known as Tobe and Pa Tobe. He was the "egg man."
He and Ma sold eggs door to door and on the square in Pontotoc and Oxford
for many years. He was a fine Christian man, and only the Lord knows how
many elderly people he helped with chores and how many people who needed
them got free eggs.
One of her fondest memories is the peddlers who drove rolling general merchandise
stores. The Friday peddler was Mr. Leland Carter who ran a store in Ingomar.
He may have been kin to Mr. Ernie Carter who had a store in Thaxton, and
possibly is related to a Mr. Wayne Carter, noted author, humorist, and publisher
of uptown Pontotoc.
[Editors note: Leland Carter was from a different line of Carters.]
The Saturday peddler was Mr. Leon Tallant. In later years he ran the feed
mill in Hurricane where my father-in-law worked. I remember the large pile
of sweepings and seagrass strings out back. Mr. Leon would plant seed taters
in it and raise a fine crop.
Since Mimi was an only child, the nearest grandchild on one side, and the
only grandchild on the other side for many years, she was, shall we say,
doted on. Fortunately for me and our children, that's the way she's raised
us. Her Daddy used to leave her a dime to meet the peddler, and so would
Pa and Papa Graham. I suppose they pretended they didn't know the others
were doing that, too.
Opal, Ma, Grandma Mary Vaughn, and Momma Graham would meet the peddler to
buy the things they didn't raise or make themselves, like snuff (for Grandma
Mary) and sugar and coffee and occasional dry goods like a blanket or buttons.
Sometime they would barter with eggs and live chickens, which the peddler
kept in a cage under the truck. Ralph remembers them getting 12 cents per
dozen eggs.
Mimi would spend part of her money with the Friday peddler and part with
the Saturday peddler. Ten cents went a long way. Apples and bananas and some
candies were a nickel each, and she always bought a Pepsi from the tub on
the back of the old green truck. The bottle would be covered with the dust,
which rose in clouds from the gravel road.
Long after those days after her family moved to Memphis and we met and I
talked her into marrying me, we came back "home" many weekends, and we still
do as often as we can. I remember Mr. Eubanks' store on Highway 6 near Thaxton.
He made the best bologna sandwiches. He used fresh white bread slathered
with a generous dollop of mayonnaise, two thick slices of homegrown vine
ripe maters, and covered with a thick slab of bologna he cut off himself,
always crooked which made it that more tasty.
Those days are long gone. We are in the era of Wal-Mart. Our parents and
grandparents loved to garden and raised one to eat from. My family has been
blessed with many a wonderful Southern cooked meal of Pontotoc grown vegetables
and home-killed pork, bacon, and tenderloin. We garden a little as a hobby.
Our children probably will not. But it is my earnest belief that as we all
get older we yearn for and turn back to the olden days and the olden ways.
My Momma would never believe I raise flowers now.
By Carl Wayne Hardeman - Collierville, TN
Reader Memories
Buckhorn And Burma Shave
When I was growing up near Buckhorn, my mother would send me to the Elmer
Luther store in Buckhorn. I liked to stand around and listen to the men,
[who were] sitting around in chairs and on nail kegs, talking about different
things and many times having a heated discussion.
One day, the store owner, Mr. Elmer Luther and Mr. Calhoun Young were disagreeing
about something and one kept saying it happened one way and the other saying
it was another way.
Finally, Mr. Young said, "Elmer, we just don't see things alike, and I guess
it is a good thing that everybody don't see things alike, for if everybody
saw things like me everyone would have wanted my
wife."
Mr. Luther said, "Yes, and if everybody saw things like me, nobody would
have had her."
They both had a good laugh and the argument was over.
[You may not be] old enough to remember back when traveling along the roads
there were signs along the road with verses advertising Burma Shave. They
were on posts along the side of the road, and each sign had two to three
words on them and the last post-sign had "Burma Shave."
I tried to memorize as many as I could,
and many times when traveling with someone, I would start quoting from the
signs. When I was back home [in Pontotoc] this winter, I called off a few
of them while riding with my sister, Dorothy Cox.
She said, "When you get home, write down as many as you can remember and
send them to me."
After several days, [I] had a pretty good
list. The best I remember the Burma Shave Company started putting them up
in the Midwest about 1927, and they kept putting them up into the early sixties
when TV took over so much of the advertising. Then they began to tear down
the signs, as I think they had to pay the landowners, where the signs were
placed, so much a year. I know I missed seeing them along the road when they
were gone. I am sending you a copy.
PS: I would like to tell you that I read the book [Folk Tales, Facts, and
Fabulations] from cover to cover, and your articles were very good. I did
get a few calls and notes telling me how they enjoyed my articles, but of
course most were family that got a free book.
By Marlin Swanson - Bakersfield, California
Bodock Beau
Burma Shave Signs
Marlin Swanson has a far better memory than I do. I remember
few Burma Shave rhymes. Marlin remembers more than thirty.
At school zone, heed instructions
Protect our little tax deductions. Burma Shave
Past schoolhouses, take it slow
Let the little shavers grow. Burma Shave
Don't stick your arm out the window too far
It might go home in another car. Burma Shave
Twinkle, Twinkle, One Eyed car
We all wonder where you are. Burma Shave
Is he lonely or is he blind
The guy who follows so close behind. Burma Shave
A man, a Miss, a car, a curve
He kissed the Miss and missed the curve. Burma Shave
Car in ditch, man in tree
Moon was full and so was he. Burma Shave
A shave that’s real, no cuts to heal
A soothing velvet after feel. Burma Shave
Why is it when you start to pass
The guy up front steps on the gas? Burma Shave
The bearded lady tried a jar
She's now a famous movie star. Burma Shave
Half a pound for half a dollar
Spread on thin above the collar. Burma Shave
Bachelor's quarters, dog on the rug
Whiskers to blame, no one to hug. Burma Shave
He had the ring; he had the flat
But she felt his chin, and that was that. Burma Shave
Don’t' take the curve at sixty per
We hate to loose a customer. Burma Shave
Hardly a driver is now alive
Who passed on hills at seventy-five. Burma Shave
Don't pass cars on curves or hills
If the cops don’t get you, morticians will. Burma Shave
If hugging on highways is your sport
Trade in your car for a davenport. Burma Shave
Her chariot raced at eighty per
They hauled away what had Ben Hur. Burma Shave
Drinking drivers, nothing worse
They put the quart before the hearse. Burma Shave
Many a forest used to stand
Where a lighted match got out of hand. Burma Shave
She kissed the hairbrush by mistake
She thought it was her husband Jake. Burma Shave
Don't loose your head to gain a minute
You need your head, your brains are in it. Burma Shave
Every day we do our part
To make your face a work of art. Burma Shave
Shaving brushes you'll see 'em
On the shelf in some museum. Burma Shave
If you don't know whose signs these are
You can't have driven very far. Burma Shave
Grandpa's beard was stiff and course
And that's what caused his fifth divorce. Burma Shave
It's best for one who hits the bottle
To let another use the throttle. Burma Shave
Give hand signals to those behind
They don't know what's in your mind. Burma Shave
Famous last words of lights that shine
If he won't dim his, I won't dim mine. Burma Shave
The whale put Jonah down the hatch
But coughed him up because he scratched. Burma Shave
He tried to cross as a fast train neared
Death didn't draft him, he volunteered. Burma Shave
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