They call them the “good old days,” and for good reason. Lordy mercy, I can remember like it was yesterday, sitting in the backyard at Grandmamma and Granddaddy’s house, shelling peas and shucking corn under the big old pecan tree. We spent most of our time in the backyard, although there were occasions when we would sit in the chairs on the front porch and wave at the neighbors who passed by. It was on the front porch where Granddaddy gave me my “Yankee dime” for picking up all those pecans. However, as I said, most of our activities took place in the backyard.
After granddaddy would spend the morning at his favorite fishing hole, he would bring a mess of fish home and it was in the backyard where we would each get a spoon and take the scales off the fish. Those fish scales would be flying around everywhere and end up all over us, even in our hair. I would watch Granddaddy gut the fish and sometimes he would show me the fish eggs in the belly. Gross. After a feast of fish, fries, hushpuppies and fish gravy (more about that later) it would be time to make homemade ice cream. Fish gravy; many people do not know how to make good old fish gravy. Even though I watched it made many times, I still don’t even know how to make it like my grandmamma and mamma (but I’ll bet my Aunt Sherma Ann can teach me.) When I explain to people how my family cooked the gravy I get some strange looks, but I would just bet many of you have had fish gravy the same way. It goes something like this: with some of the grease from frying the fish, you add cornmeal, salt and pepper; you stir the cornmeal until it browns to a deep brown and then you add water. It sizzles and smokes, and cooks down to a thicker gravy and it is delicious over light bread. I may have missed some key ingredient, as I said I have never attempted the task, but I am here to tell you that was some good fish gravy. I could make a meal of just gravy and bread, hence the muffin top I have been battling most of my life.
As for the ice cream, it was made in an old hand crank freezer. The ingredients were poured into a canister, rock salt was placed around the canister and then we would take turns turning the crank. Sometimes it would get so hard to turn someone would have to sit on the top. I do not know the reasoning for this, but the result was absolute delight. Grandmamma would make a chocolate sauce or Granddaddy would have different flavors of Crush soda to pour over the ice cream. Um, um, good. After our bellies were full we would sit in the backyard and let Granddaddy tell us his fishing story of the day (or some other story), and we would laugh and giggle at his stories, Lord how we would laugh. He was a great storyteller, and he loved to tell funny little tidbits he had picked up here and there.
Those certainly were the good old days. Memories of my grandparents’ backyard always bring a smile to my face and sometimes a tear to my eye. That is what this country needs more of…a shady place to sit a spell, to slow down time and enjoy the simple little pleasures life has given us.
(Kathy Camp is a columnist for the Banner- News. Email her at [email protected])