Janie Scarlett Talks some Smack

            Gerald O’Hara: “Do you mean to tell me, Katie Scarlett O'Hara, that Tara, that land doesn't mean anything to you? Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin' for, worth fightin' for, worth dyin' for, because it's the only thing that lasts.”

            I dreaded it.  It was not my idea of a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  Forgive me, Gerald O’Hara and Saints of the Oil and Timber Industries!  I confess my short-sightedness.

           Sunday afternoon drives south from Camden, past Mt Holly, in Union County, AR, only signaled that I might get to drive, learning to clutch, shift, gas, and brake.  Even if I hit a tree, the tree would suffer far more damage than the car. My brother and I squirmed in the back seat as most of the time our grandmother rode with us. This land was her father’s home place. 
             The tasks for the day were usually two: 

1. Pay homage to the grave site, for the marker had not yet been moved to Camden. Under a small stand of trees below and to the left of where the house had been located was the gravesite of Mary Sue Gordon, my grandmother’s aunt. 

2. Walk the lines of timber.  My brother and father walked the lines, with Daddy explaining to Thomas how all this one day would be his to manage.  Pine trees were just tiny green sprigs needing a good growing season as do cotton, corn, or soybeans.  Saplings were nurtured into mature trees which were then marketed for timber, a good cash crop.

                    Daddy petitioned the heirs to expand his role as Sue Gordon Estate manager to develop the acreage into prime timberland.  He and his brother-in-law and another of the uncles had offered the family a nice sum for the land.  My grandmother (only 1 of the 4 living sisters) and the other heirs did not want the land out of the direct-line, so they voted not to sell to Daddy. To say that this vote changed the dynamic within the family is an understatement.

                         Ultimately and for multiple financial considerations for the  Gordon sisters, Daddy brokered a deal for the family and got the sisters an excellent price for the acerage. The land was sold to a timber company, but the family retained ½ the mineral rights.  Mineral rights are important in south Arkansas, important in Union County, 16S/17W.

               In 1921, the South Arkansas Oil Boom spewed forth almost 30,000 barrels of oil to begin, just east of El Dorado. About a year later, Sid Umsted of Camden and partners (some of whom were relatives) struck a gusher outside Smackover.  The towns of Camden (Ouachita County) and Smackover (Union County) and the entire south Arkansas landscape changed overnight from a sleepy agriculture and timber area to a major player in the oil and gas economy of the state. 
              Our heritage is tied in knots in this story. We have mineral interests in south Arkansas. With the renewed interest in the Smackover Brown Dense or the Smackover Shale, within 16S/17W, I say, bring on the oil.  I’m ready to be a Baroness with black gold and green dollars.

               Where is that Prissy, anyway?

Ugly Ducklings

             Yesterday was John Deere (and John Deerest!) Day.   I finished the JD Collection of Aprons for Voila’!  Today, friends, is “Camo” Day. Even lace and a gathered yellow hem cannot make Camo pretty. Coordinating pocket trim will help, but even that can’t break them free from the Ugly Zone.

FLASH!  Surely WalMart in Kennett has Duck fabric. To rescue these Ugly Ducklings, I’ll tweak the design and Voila!, they will become Duck Commander Aprons.  And….I’m off to Walmart!

Egg Elegance: The Gordon Family Easter Egg

               Plastic eggs constitute a plebian way to provide color and capsuled confection to the celebration of Easter.  Easter Bunnies do not lay plastic eggs.

               Easter Bunnies do lay eggs, though.  Not regular eggs, but colorful and fragile Easter eggs: varied in color, filled with candy, and topped with a special “fluffy, bunny tail.” I never questioned this quirk of nature.
               Saving the shells for months prior to the dying ritual was a task, but one that perpetuated the tradition of our Easter Bunny. Pink, yellow, green, purple, blue – all colors of spring provided the spectrum for the weekly color fest, which must be performed in secret, as when children are at school or asleep.  That egg shell-dying egg-stravaganza, however, was only the beginning of the adventure for creating the one and only Gordon Family Easter Egg.
                   Family members began by buying or saving tissue paper or finding crepe paper such as the paper which creates the frills on a piñata….colorful, festive, and fragile, the kind that if wet or handled too much stains fingertips.
                Various hues of crepe paper (tissue paper) are cut into 4”x4” squares (could be a tad larger).  Don’t be stingy with the paper. It is folded, accordion style. You’ll have a “fan” about 4” tall. Cut ribbons down into the crepe paper, down to about ¾ -1”, leaving enough folded paper to fit snugly into the small open top of the empty egg shell. Scissors are used to curl the ends of each sheet of the crepe paper ribbon, like you would curl a ribbon for a package. Be careful not to rip the paper when curling it. The result should appear as a fluffy, puffy, curly “Bunny Tail” fashioned in a multitude of spring colors.  Match or Mix the toppers to the dyed egg shells.

                Fill the colored egg shells with candy corn, lemon drops, Hershey’s Kisses, jelly beans, M&M’s, and add a colorful topper.  With some degree of loving effort, you have created a masterpiece: a really awesome, authentic, and fragile, Gordon Family Easter egg.          (Photos are of my baby brother, Thomas Gordon Dansby, Easter, 1954.)

Barbie and Ken on the Cutting Edge of Excitement

           It’s not common knowledge, but Barbie and Ken have been married for 7 whole years today, March 9!  What a lot of living for them. Today's celebration includes a night on the town. The Dream Couple plans to scoot along in the Barbie-car to the Art's Council event: Clay County’s Got Talent Review.  Barbie will wear one of her couture outfits, minus the hat and gloves.  Ken might shrug the tux, but a sport coat is a must.  He’s just not dressed without one.
           This morning’s coffee and muffins were shared in the den of the Barbie Dream House, with Ken in his recliner and Barbie in her’s. Barbie checked her messages on her pink Barbie Smart Phone and her emails on the Barbie lap-top.   Fluff the Barbie-cat (who is “rare”) has not been seen for a very long time, rumored to be in a plastic bin in the Barbie-basement. Real-life Hershey prefers to sit at Barbie’s side every minute of every day and is much cuter.
           Later this morning, Barbie and Ken will work together on their various projects:  Ken will be tiling the enlarged dream-shower in the Master Bath and Barbie will be using the Barbie-sewing machine, making polka-dot and print fashion aprons for the Spring Crafts Fair.  Barbie and Ken live on the cutting edge of excitement!
           The Seven-Year-Itch has not been the subject of any conversations regarding Barbie and Ken.  No Monroe-Moment for this couple.  Should anything like that arise, Barbie would be shopping for a Ken-Kasket.

Lessons from the River House

            Daddy, my uncle, my cousins’ dad, and a couple of man-friends built the River House.  On the road toward their sanctuary, their equivalent to a woman’s spa-retreat, there were multiple opportunities to get the “Hooptie” stuck and wench out. My memories of the River House are fond in some regards, and nightmares in others. 
             Daddy and the “boys” built a one room River House with a screened front porch facing the upper branch of the Ouachita River, off the road to Sparkman, AR.  They loved that escape into rugged manhood, where they caught fish or shot squirrels for food and provided their own liquid refreshment.  Boys became men at the River House.  There, men scratched openly, belched for the Guinness Book of World Records, pooted in competition, and cussed with abandon.  With no women present, men fell into their ancient habits, those that were forged when civilization did not exist.
             At the River House, I learned to shoot a 22-rifle. I’m a great shot for beer cans and turtles perched on a log. My visits to the River House, though, can only last a few hours because I refuse to tinkle while sitting on a log.  It is because of visits to the River House in the early days that I trained my bladder to expand, expand, expand some more. I hold to a simple rule today- Always check the location of the nearest ladies room.
            My grandmother rarely visited the River House, but one Sunday afternoon, she wanted to take a little drive to see “the boys.” My grandmother was the communion-cloth caretaker of the First United Methodist Church, 4^th pew from the front matriarch of our family.  It was this grand lady who wanted to “go see her son, her son-in-law, her nephew, and friends” at the River House.

                Mother tried everything to keep the visit from happening, but was unsuccessful.  As we crossed the River Bridge, a wooden plank, side-less span, she slowed the car to a crawl and lay down on the horn. I asked her why she was honking so long and loud. Her reply, “Just to let them know we’re coming.” I learned later the Long and Loud meant Hide the Booze and pull up the ladder, Mildred is on the prowl.
                Years later, Daddy and Gordon (my uncle) bought the River House from the other boys and added on a side porch and a small bathroom.  A set of steps with a banister and a ceiling fan for the screened porch plus a window unit to cool the singular room were added. It was those improvements that mother insisted upon so that she would consider spending the night or having a cook-out there.  My brother loved the River House for he and Daddy spent days and nights there hunting, fishing, and being men. Mother could be a fabulous hostess there as Daddy cooked steaks, entertaining couples with her signature grace and ease, though it was never her first choice.
                What did the River House have to do with my girly childhood? 
                 I learned tinkle etiquette, defense from attacking turtles or beer cans, horn-blowing signals, and what a wife’s love for her husband can overcome.

Rule #1: Refrain from Drinking the Bread Pudding

         The Co-ed's Code, the college-girl's answer book for all question on appearance and behavior was a natural fit with the Southern Lady Rule Book, the Camden edition, authored by my mother and her bridge club friends. It is certain that those ladies had input in the wildly popular Handbook on Southern Graces entitled Why Princess Margaret Will Never Be A Kappa Kappa Gamma!

I willingly share these Top 5 SLRB (Camden ed.) examples with you.

1.      Be sure to acknowledge appearance augmentation such as obviously fresh hair color, face lift, boob/nose job, and fake eyelashes. They’ve spent plenty of good money for the look, so let them know you appreciate their efforts. “Darling, where ever did you get those fabulous press-on lashes?”

2.      Always inquire as to the health of relatives.  “How is Aunt Ophelia after her most recent fall from the Casino bar stool?”-or-  “I did not realize Cousin Tipsy had returned from the Clinic already.  How is she feeling, Dear?”

3.      Eat like a bird. Remember Mammy’s admonition to Scarlett. Be sure to go halves on a sandwich or dessert, ask for a take-home box, even if you only use it for a second roll and the other half of the dessert.  Forget about the starving children in China – leave a morsel or two on your plate. (Though tempting, don't drink the whiskey sauce puddled around the

       bread pudding.)

4.      Thank God for good fashion sense. When you see a Rhinestone Cowgirl outfit on a

       60+ granny who thinks she's 40 years younger, be sure to Thank God you took it

       to Goodwill last weekend.

5.      Do not buy a dress that also comes in 3XL. Though imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, it does not make up for the humiliation as you swish around in your cute little dress and the hefty-bag duplicate shows up at the next church social.

 

Ladies' Dorm Companion: Long Live the Co-ed's Code

          My mother trained me in all aspects of etiquette, but I received additional  training in college from The Co-ed’s Code, authored by the AWS (Association of Women Students) under the leadership and direction of Dean Bernice Smith, Dean of Women.  This little booklet was small enough to tuck into a co-ed’s bra, to be produced at a moment’s notice to check the rules and regs required for lady-like behavior, should said "lady" be in doubt.  An example of appropriate female behavior could be, “If in doubt, turn your back to your professor, boyfriend’s father, sorority house-mother, or college dean when pulling your asthma inhaler from your bra.”  Additionally, if a lady has imbibed too much, “always stand down-wind from Dean Smith and President Russell, ….or drink Scope.”
          The most memorable instructions, however, in the Co-ed’s Code related to dress, appearances, and behavior.

Rule 1 from Co-Ed’s Code:  Ladies are not seen in public in shorts….but ladies can be seen in a perverted get-up of gym shorts or swimming suits covered by a flasher-style raincoat, in any and all weather. Other lady-like/modesty rules include this one - Ladies should always throw clean granny-style panties to fraternity men during a “Panty-Raid.”

Rule 2 from Co-Ed’s Code:  Ladies do not walk holding a cigarette.  Instead, ladies draw a lingering drag, blow smoke rings, set the cigarette down in an appropriate ashtray, walk to the next seating area in the Student Union and ask friends to pass the cigarette, hand by hand by hand by hand until it is received between fingertips sporting manicured and polished nails.  Use generous splashes of Chanel No. 5 to cover the tobacco odor.

Rule 3 from Co-Ed’s Code:  Ladies do not form bread-lines at teas.  This rule is to avoid the appearance of having propensity to stand in a commodities line or an employment line. Ladies visit with each other, keeping an eye peeled for an opening at the tea table.  When an appropriate entry space is available, ladies should sashay to the table and load up multiple plates with all the remaining finger sandwiches and chocolate cake.  Ladies should grab a cup of punch and plenty of napkins to use instead of sleeves. Napkins with stains may be thrown away more easily than a blouse or jacket.

           I found my copy of The Coed's Code when going through items for the Burn Pile in order to reduce the number of boxes stored in the basement bedroom.  I could not bring myself to burn it, though I wished to do so many times during my college years. I internalized those 3 rules and added them to my Southern Lady Rule Book, the Camden edition, authored by my mother. You can read those 10 entries in my next post.  Each is written with the same level of respect that you sense in reading the 3 rules explained above.