THE HEART OF THE FAMILY

The kitchen was central in my growing up and also served as a dining room. The kitchen table was used as a desk where we children did our homework and the family took their meals. The General rose early and cooked a big breakfast everyday. She’d fry eggs and bake biscuits. No short cuts with mixes were used for her bread. She prepared it right from the beginning with flour, water, baking soda and milk. She’d fry ham or bacon and make gravy from the drippings. My Daddy loved white gravy made from milk and flour. He poured it generously on everything and we children soon learned to do the same. A big pot of Uncle Ben’s rice always set on the table. It was my favorite cereal with rich cream and sugar poured into a big bowl. The smell of coffee percolating was my alarm clock. On cold winter mornings, I’d grab my clothes and run to the warm kitchen to get dressed.

The cook-stove was a wood burner. The front door of the oven was white enamel and it had a big stainless steel handle. There was a warmer oven above the burners that was used to keep things already cooked, warm. The flat surface where the cooking was done could be lifted up and wood pushed in to keep the fire going. On the back, there was a big ten-gallon water tank. It was my job to keep it full. There was always warm water for washing your face and for My Daddy to shave. In order to drain out some water, a stainless steel faucet came out on the lower left-hand side of the stove, just below the burners. It gave the appearance it was coming out of the firebox. It looked very strange and out of place. Friends and neighbors would often eye it curiously. “That faucet whistles when the bread is done,” My Daddy would say, and we’d all laugh. The stove was made of mostly cast iron and weighed in excess of five hundred pounds. It was the Generals pride, but My Daddy’s curse, when it was time to move

A local man of talent had made our table. It was built of solid oak and hand fashioned. The legs were painted a light green. It had a white linoleum top that was held in place by stainless steel stripping about one and one-half inches wide that ran around all four sides.

Along one wall stood a large white cabinet. The top portion was enclosed in glass and here the General stored her glasses and dishes. Below the flat surface were two drawers where the eating utensils were kept. And under those drawers was a place to put pots, pans and skillets. To the left of the pots and pans was a big flour bin.

Those three things had been in the kitchen as far back as I could remember. Having them gave me a feeling of comfort and security no matter where we lived. I spent a lot of my youth hanging around the kitchen and talking to the General. I was content there and more often than not got a handout before regular mealtime.

No sooner was breakfast over than the General would start on dinner. The kitchen was always warm and cozy and smelled of freshly cooked food. The General could cook like few people in this world. She could come up with the greatest of ideas about rich, tasty food. When there was no sugar, she took sorghum molasses and flour, put in goodies taken from hickory nuts, mixed it all together and baked a delicious cake. Cold milk and a warm, rich piece of cake with crunchy nuts, eaten in the presence of the General was a great treat. The General knew how to can fruits and vegetables. Come winter, we’d be prepared. She knew how to have chicken to fry in the summer, hens for dumplings and stew in the winter. Hogs were butchered and pork salted down when the first hard freeze came. Thanks to the General's philosophy of having your living right around you, we ate very well all year around. That explains why the Messers are so finicky about their food. It‘s always important to us to know what we’ll be eating at the next meal.

On cold winter evenings we’d eat, and afterwards, as the General cleaned up, we’d talk. We’d talk of the day's events, last year's crop failings and our eternal hope for a better life in the future. My Daddy would speak of how long it was until spring, and what we were going to do to improve our lot in this sorry ol’ world. Family stories would be told and retold. My Daddy would tell them and we’d laugh as if it were the first time we’d ever heard them. We often would prod him to tell us the one about the time such and such happened. After a moment of silence, he’d launch into his account of the event. We’d sit expectantly smiling from ear to ear. If it was going to be funny, he’d have a good laugh before he started just to get us into the swing of things. It always worked. We’d be laughing right along with him by the time he got started. We’d often spend three or four hours after the meal in the kitchen. Those who had drifted to other parts of the house would eventually return to listen, talk and laugh.

The General would tell us about Jesus and how He died for our sins and that all the wisdom of the universe was in the Bible. She’d read out loud when the occasion permitted. Her mission was to instruct us on how to conduct ourselves, and how to treat others. We were lectured on keeping our word, being kind to strangers and all manner of conduct that was required in order to be a good Christian. The Devil was a roaring beast walking around the earth seeking poor souls to devour. Her primary mission in life was to prevent him from carrying off any of her brood to the fires of Hell. She invoked her position of authority and claimed her children for the Lord. This was temporary, of course, and as soon as you were at the age of knowledge, you would need to be saved. This meant accepting Jesus as your personal Savior at any age after eight years old. Provided that happened in the cold winter, you would wait until summer and then be baptized in Cache River. If one died before being baptized, but had the intention of doing so, they’d go on to Heaven.

Between 1945 and 1949, My Daddy and the General owned a small twenty acre farm. Debts and mortgages had accrued and it made My Daddy nervous. They decided to sell the farm in order to pay things off. Afterwards, they even had enough left so that the General could have the baby she was now carrying in a sanitary clinic. Don Moore and his family had moved to Walnut Ridge. His dad had bought another grocery store. My Aunt Roxie Moore wanted the General to live in the modern house that they were moving from. Not only did it have electricity but indoor plumbing. Everyone agreed that this was a great idea, so we moved into the house and lived there for about two months.

My Uncle Floyd had owned the Company Farm for many years. It was mostly in woods with small fields scattered here and there on high spots for growing cotton. My Daddy always wanted to live there. He wanted to farm the little fields and run hogs wild in the woods. He believed we might even get rich. Uncle Floyd had said it was possible and he was the smartest Messer we had ever known. The General always vetoed that idea. “That old broken down place only has three rooms,” she said. It wasn’t wired for electricity and set too far back off the route of the mainline to get hooked up. The electric company didn’t feel it was worthwhile to run a line out there for just one family. To make things even worse, the house was hidden behind a large thicket out of view from the rest of the world. The woods started right outside the front door and ran for miles.

“The only way a person can see from there is straight up,” the General said. Now, her having a direct line to the Lord and all, she almost always had her way. She was on the side of goodness and righteousness, and was a hard woman to go up against. But, My Daddy did have his dream. Little by little, he wore her down. It was finally agreed we’d move to the Company Farm. We’d be going to a different school. The Baptist church nearest us would be a Freewill. The General had always been in the Army of the Missionary Baptists. Well, a Baptist is a Baptist, and this would have to do. It was decided; the move would be made. I was about to begin a whole new way of life.