October 19,2004 Omaha, Nebraska
Been in Omaha working since, well a long time ago, hitting the road again this weekend and will post what’s happened since August in the next few days but I wanted to share this with you all. It was writen by Marjorie Wooley, Sister Reddie Harper’s daughter for her 90’th birthday.Remember I photographed and wrote about Sister Reddie back in early July.
When Marjorie sent this to me she said: I am attaching a little piece that I wrote for her birthday. Since you met her, you can relate to what I say. Most people don’t believe things that I could tell them about her.and it’s so very true!!!
People never ask me how it was to be raised by Mother, they just say something like, “Boy it must have been something to be raised by your mother!” Well, “Something” is not the word.I decided to find the word and it took about a millisecond. The word is “ABUNDANCE.”We had everything in abundance. (Except money.) We didn’t have any money, but we had an abundance of food, and abundance of people, and an abundance of activities.I actually thought bologna sandwiches and potato chips were foods that only the well-to-do ate, because we never had them. We never had much of anything that came out a store. We only had biscuits, cornbread, chicken, pork chops, steak and gravy, rice, peas, corn, butter beans, banana pudding, lemon icebox pie, and strawberries and with real whipped cream. Sometimes all in the same meal!Mother never just killed a chicken for Sunday dinner. When she killed chickens, we had the whole yard full of flopping chickens with their necks broken. She usually had a lot of help, but if she didn’t, she just scaled, plucked and clean them quicker than any chicken cleaning machine.I don’t mean to say that Daddy didn’t contribute to the abundance, but mother made it happen. He didn’t exactly move as fast as she did.I don’t actually remember sitting down to a family meal with just the six of us. We always had so many people there that we often ate in shifts. The really nice thing was that the children got to eat first. Mother had a lot of disdain for adults that ate before the children.We had an abundance of people there all the time. I don’t remember having a particular bed to sleep when I was young. I generally slept wherever there was room. Often on the cedar chest, or on the floor on a pallet of very thick heavy quits. (She had an abundance of heavy quilts too.) We had so many people there, that she converted two chicken houses into bunkhouses. I don’t remember having to sleep in the chicken house, but I do remember that James quite often had to sleep out there with the boys, when the house was too full.People actually took their vacations at our house. Strangers were always welcome. I don’t know the times I came in from school to a room full of people that I had never seen. The people who came to visit, would always return with new people. We had an abundance of activity. The people who came for vacations were not exactly setting on the front porch in the swing. They cooked, sewed, and shelled peas. They also sang, prayed and went swimming in the creek. And the kids got to dig for buried treasure.I don’t know how many people have visited and eaten there, but it is not a childhood exaggeration to say there have been hundreds.She managed this on almost no cash. I don’t every remember going into a grocery store, pushing a cart, and picking things up from the shelf. Daddy brought home a few things like flour, sugar coffee, and maybe pork and beans from Ms. Terronova store in Lake Charles, on Saturdays. Another thing that comes to mind when I think about my childhood is how safe I felt. I always say that I lived on Miracle Mile. I had Mother on one end and Aunt Corene Tyler on the other end, so I didn’t have to worry about anything. I was sure they weren’t afraid of anything or anybody. They were on first name basis with God, and the Devil certainly wasn’t going to tangle with either of them.All of the people who came left many memories. I am using these notes not to remember what to say, but to keep me from trying to mention all of the stories that come to mind.LaJuan and Rodney, I remember your mother’s hot chocolate, and Aunt Corene’s teacakes,Linda, Judy and Joyce, I remember your mother singing in her yard, and Ms. Hanchey’s mayhaw jelly cakes. I know you got to call her Big Mama, but I always called her Mrs. Hanchey.Melba, Your grandmother introduced me to the best steak and gravy I every tasted. She would say to me “Sha, go out there and pick me a handfull of those peppers.” and she would chop the whole handfull and put them in the gravy. She also made the most delicious ice cream from canned milk. I remember the Labby family coming up with your family and barbequing on the creek. It was through your grandparents that I fell in love with Cajun food long before it became popular.Jean Evelyn, when you came, Mother always wanted everything to be special. She made sure I got out the best napkins and silverware. And..she also wanted me to make sure that I did not leave any lemon seeds in the lemon icebox pie.My one regret today it that Daddy, Johnny, Thomas and Reba can’t be here with us. I will end with a few lines from this little poem.Just Because you are my Mother.Just because you are my Mother,I know how it feels to have my skin scrubbed clean, My hair French braided …tight, andTo sleep warm on the coldest winter night.Mother, I know that my childhood was so incredible and unique that most children could not have dreamed of all the things I thought were totally normal, JUST BECAUSE YOU ARE MY MOHTER!
Written for Reiddie Harper on her 90th birthday. August 22, 2003, by Marjorie Wooley
