Remember the old days ... eating sour kraut, shucky beans, and turnip greens? Long ago the old folks used to hole up their taters, pumpkins, and turnips. I remember bean stringings and sorghum making-time. This was done mostly at night with all the neighbors pitching in. You talk about courting days - there has been many a young lass that got her first stolen kiss at a sorghum makin'. The young ones, what we call our teenagers, might get into a game called "Hide & Seek." Sometimes you would have to seek them out when they found the right boy. Nine times out of ten both were too bashful to touch the other, although both would go off and hide together; by granny - times sure have changed. If you don’t think they have, don’t let your eyes wander too far around the drive-ins or cars on the roads, you can see a gal almost sitting on the driver. I’ve accepted that we are living in a different age. If I had known what I know now when I was growing up I guess I would have been considered a ring tail tooter. That was a by word as I can remember when some boy was always getting himself in a mess; most of the time he came out of it without a blemish.
Saturday, March 28
Remember the old days ... eating sour kraut, shucky beans, and turnip greens? Long ago the old folks used to hole up their taters, pumpkins, and turnips. I remember bean stringings and sorghum making-time. This was done mostly at night with all the neighbors pitching in. You talk about courting days - there has been many a young lass that got her first stolen kiss at a sorghum makin'. The young ones, what we call our teenagers, might get into a game called "Hide & Seek." Sometimes you would have to seek them out when they found the right boy. Nine times out of ten both were too bashful to touch the other, although both would go off and hide together; by granny - times sure have changed. If you don’t think they have, don’t let your eyes wander too far around the drive-ins or cars on the roads, you can see a gal almost sitting on the driver. I’ve accepted that we are living in a different age. If I had known what I know now when I was growing up I guess I would have been considered a ring tail tooter. That was a by word as I can remember when some boy was always getting himself in a mess; most of the time he came out of it without a blemish.
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I saw my first possum at a "stiroff" (sorghum making). He ambled down the hillside like he belonged. Uncle Matt got him, put him under a big bucket, took him home, and they, not me, had possum for dinner the next day. Nothing no better (poor english here) than taking a piece of sugar cane, sticking it into the bubbling "lasses". Like Pooh Bear of today, it made "rumbling in the tummy".
ReplyDeleteI grew up in a household of "old folks" and Roscoe's column was a must for Uncle Matt. Of course, they all knew Roscoe and his folks, and everyone knew everybody back then and they would sit on the Courthouse Square, spit "ambeer" all over the place and discuss what Roscoe Sezs.
I think this blog will bring yesterday and today together in a most pleasant way, yestoday, hee hee hee.
It's sad. Nobody is replacing the correspondent like Roscoe. Now with educated and trained journalists and educated readership, to some extent, people are more demanding of a better brand of journalism. But what tends to be missing, increasingly, is the warmth and humor and sometimes sadness of columns like Roscoe's. That's important. But it's dying. However it is good to see Roscoe reaching a whole new audience on the Interent.
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