Shellie Rushing Tomlinson
Hello everyone, and welcome to the porch! I've been thinking
about family today. Few things are as treasured in the south
as our families. I hope all is well with yours...
My sisters both came in to visit this weekend. It was fun;
we fell into familiar family patterns easily. I could almost hear
the chords of the old song by Sister Sledge,
"We are family, I have all my sisters with me.
All the people around us they say,
can they be that close?
Just let me say for the record,
We're giving love in a family dose..."
Webster defines a sister as "a female human being having the
same parents as another person." Right--if you have a sister,
then you know "a female human being" would be one of the nicer
things you've called her.
The late Charles M. Schultz, creator of the Peanuts gang, once
said, "Big sisters are the crab grass in the lawn of life." This
from the man who gave us Lucy, as near perfect an example of the
big sister as literature will ever produce. Like most big sisters,
Lucy invested herself fully in the role. In one of Mr. Schultz's
earlier strips, Feb. 1954, we see her watching a clock as the
minute hands advance. On the hour she screams "BEDTIME!" at her
little brother, Linus , who promptly flips in mid-air from the force
of her announcement. I'm with you, Linus--been there, lived that.
"Families are about learning to overcome emotional torture." I
love this quote by Matt Groeing, it could well speak to sisterhood's
greatest weapon: mental abuse. Nothing is off limits here. Find their
insecurities and exploit them to your advantage. Be it their toes
or their rears, their nose or their ears, when growing up with
sisters--it's all fair game.
Side by side you live with this person this aggravating person. And
then one day you grow up--and little things begin to
remind you of the good times you shared. A flashback of late night giggle
attacks returns, rare nights when you forgot to fight and lay in bed
laughing at nothing and everything. The memory is pleasant, so you stir
the pot and others float to the top. You have to smile when you remember
that as mean as your sister was to you--she reserved her fiercest
anger for your enemies. Growing up with sisters is like living with
the mob. Sure, they're rough, but it's nice to have 'em around when
someone calls you out.
You can't pretend with sisters either. They know you in a way no one
else does. When I recall my childhood, my sisters are the main
characters--my parents, the directors. My father provided
for me; my sisters played with me. My mom gave us our bath; my sisters
splashed soap in my eyes. Even my husband, with whom I also share a
past, knows me only as the girl I was when we met, and the person I've
become during our lives together. My sisters have the total picture;
they remember when I wore hoot-owl glasses and corrective shoes.
As sisters, we even define ourselves by ourselves. I am the baby;
(my sisters would say the spoiled one, which proves they still lie.)
We think of our middle sister as the peacemaker, and the eldest
as the rebel. Our roles are comfortable; we've been typecast for
life. When grown-up sisters get together you can almost strip away
the conversation and see the little girls they used to be.
As an adult I now value my sister relationships. If you have
a sister and you haven't arrived there, I hope you will soon. The old
proverb, blood is thicker than water--they were talking about sister
blood. Life with her can be a complicated, competitive,
stormy experience--that evolves into a wonderful friendship. Maybe you
have a great relationship with your sister; maybe you're still
fighting. The fact remains, you can't escape shared history. In spite
of everything you love about her, and everything you don't, she lived
with you through the experiences that made you who you are. And that's
why you can say with me, "I love her, I love her not, I love her--(she's
my sister)."
Until next week...
Warm regards,
Shellie
P.S. If you have a sister that might enjoy these thoughts, or a friend
with a sister who could identify, I invite you to send our little chat
along. Happy thoughts to sisters everywhere!
=====================================================
"Chuckles"
Heard about then old country doctor who went way out to
the boondocks (a southern term for way out there) to
deliver a baby? It was so far out, there was no electricity.
When the doctor arrived, no one was home except for the
laboring mother and her 8-year-old child.
The doctor instructed the child to hold a lantern
high so he could see, while he helped the woman
deliver the baby.
The mother pushed and hollered and after a long while,
the doctor lifted the newborn baby by the feet
and spanked him on the bottom to get him to take his
first breath.
The doctor then asked the 8-year-old what he
thought of the baby.
The little boy responded: "I would've spanked him, too!
He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place."
====================================================
"A Taste of the South"
Great-Grandmother Lela Robinson Sanders' Tea Cakes
•1 cup butter
•1 teaspoon vanilla flavoring
•3 cups sugar
•3 eggs
•5 1/2 cups self rising flour (save enough to flour
cutting board and rolling pin)
•3 tablespoons milk
Cream butter and sugar, add eggs one at a time. Add milk,
flavoring and flour. Divide dough and roll very thin; use
your favorite cookie cutter to cut dough. Bake at 350 for
8 to 10 minutes. Makes about 6 dozen or more if you roll
wafer thin.
Thanks to Crystal Leigh Costello for this week's recipe.
Crystal writes, "Here is a very special recipe that has
been in our family for many years. All of the children,
grandchildren and great grandchildren have wonderful
memories of going to visit Granny and Paw Paw Bud. Our
favorite thing to eat at their home was of course, Granny's
Tea Cakes.
****************************************************
"Spotlight on the South"
When disaster strikes in a southern community, feeding
the survivors is one of the first responses of the
victim's friends and relatives. As a little girl growing
up in the Delta, I knew that in the aftermath of a natural
disaster, a hospital stay, or a death in the family, my mom
and her friends would scurry home to prepare steaming pots
of southern comfort for those in need. We Southerners know
a hot meal won't change the circumstances--we just believe
the act of love behind it helps heal the spirit. The following
story exemplies this heritage of southern hosptality.
Louisiana gumbo crew heads for Big Apple NORCO, La. (AP)
Shawn Bradley was appalled to see heroic
New York City firefighters and police officers on
television sustaining themselves with mere hamburgers and
hot dogs after the World Trade Center attack.
He knew that just wouldn't do, so he hatched a plan to
serve up something more substantial, Louisiana gumbo.
The Gumbo Crew: Bradley and his wife, Danielle; brother,
Jarred, and a friend, left Wednesday for New York in a 30-
foot camper pulling a 12-foot tag-along trailer emblazoned
with stars and the words:GUMBO CREW and NEW ORLEANS TO NEW
YORK.
They hope to feed more than 1,000 people with the
chicken-andouille gumbo they'll make in four huge stainless
steel pots, each capable of holding about 10 gallons of the
steamy, spicy soup.
Ever since they decided to make the trip, they've been
chopping vegetables, boiling chicken and rice, and fielding
donations of everything from money to hot sauce to bowls and
spoons.
In addition to the gumbo ingredients and the water to boil
them in, the crew also packed dozens of loaves of French
bread and 20 Mardi Gras king cakes.
"As my husband said, if we didn't use our own Mississippi River
water, it wouldn't taste the same," Danielle Bradley explained.
The group hoped to make the drive from southern Louisiana to New
York in 23 hours, and camp at a site about 70 miles outside the city.
Once in the city, they'll look for a place to set up a makeshift
kitchen and start making the roux.
"I know God will guide us to where we need to be," Danielle Bradley
said.
They hoped to feed the rescue workers but know that if that doesn't
happen, many others in New York would welcome a hot, home-cooked
bowl of gumbo.
"Even if we feed the homeless people, the people in New York all
need something," said Mrs. Bradley. "We'll sit in front of Wall
Street. We'll feed the people going in to buy stocks, and maybe
they'll buy a few more."
Thanks to the Associated Press and The Delta Democrat Times from
Greenville, Mississippi for today's spotlight.
http://www.ddtonline.com
**************************************************************
"It's Been Said..."
"Within the South itself, no other form of cultural expression, not
even music, is as distinctively characteristic of the region as the
spreading of a feast of native food and drink before a gathering of
kin and friends."
- John Egerton, from "Southern Food, at Home, on the Road, in History"
********************************
"Southern Comfort"
We have several options to consider when the going gets
tough. We can recognize a God given opportunity to grow;
or we can hang on, go with the flow, and wait for smoother
waters.
Think about the oarsmen that handle "kayak" canoes. If the
waters are always calm and quiet, the oarsmen would feel a
lot safer-but they sure wouldn't learn much about "kayaking."
It's only when the waters are fast and furious that their
skills are polished. The scriptures talk about being made
strong through testing. UGH! I tend to want to skip that
message. It doesn't sound very appealing. When the going
gets tough, I'm prone to throwing my oar down and holding on
for dear life. The problem is, in order to be made strong--I
think we have to be actively involved in the struggle. Paul knew
a lot about squeezing the good from the bad. In First Corinthians
he says, "I will take pleasure in persecutions and distresses,
for Christ sake, for when I am weak, then I am strong." That
doesn't sound very passive.
Okay, I'm determined to take a new attitude the next time the
waters begin to churn. Now, has anyone seen my oars?
~Shellie
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Southern Exchange"
Pamela Marie Greenway writes in...
"I have very special memories of happier times in the
south. As a youngster, we would often go visit a grandma
in Milan, tennessee. But I think my favorite memory of
the south is visiting Uncle alton and Aunt Ruth in
Pioneer, La. I often recall those hot, humid southern
nights sitting out in the front yard of the old house.
I loved walking through the crops with Alton Junior.
After work was done, we all would sit down together for
Aunt Ruth's Southern fried chicken. My dad moved us away
from the South many years ago...I often long for the South;
my heart will always be there."
====================================
Info on my memoir "LESSONS LEARNED ON BULL RUN ROAD"
can be found at http://www.allthingssouthern.com
It will be available to order in a few short weeks
in a glossy paperback or, if you'd prefer, in e-book style
to be downloaded immediately. Won't you visit and check out
the FREE sample chapter?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In the works:
WHAT SOUTHERN MOMS TELL THEIR DAUGHTERS...
A friend's mother gave her this advice on her
wedding night: "Honey, when you're late with supper, or
just plain tired, remember to have the Holy Trinity of
Southern cooking (onions, celery and bell pepper)
sautéing in a dab of bacon grease when your man
comes home--it'll put him in a good mood and you can feed
him anything." I want your southern mom's advice about
love, marriage, relationships and life in general. Write
to me at tomtom@allthingssouthern.com to have your mom's
advice memorialized in my new book,
WHAT SOUTHERN MOMS TELL THEIR DAUGHTERS...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
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