Questions You Don't Ask

Wow, it is cold as a witches you know what in a brass bra as she flies through the air on her broom. Baby, it is cold outside so come on in the house and get warm. Have a fire in the fireplace and the heat on so we are warm and toasty. We are very blessed.

You have heard me talk about Southern manners and how old fashioned I am but being raised by a good, Southern mama and watched by the "mama police" in my small, home town, I am what I am. Mama was born and raised by a good, Southern mama and grandmother and taught me well. Part of the Mama Police's duties in a small town is to watch all the children in the town and report bad manners, rude behavior or any other shady deeds to the town and then to the parents and we had a bunch. This background has made me an older, Southern mama but I try not to be a Mama Police.

We were taught some basic manners which we were supposed to follow at all times. This included respecting anyone older than we were or in a supervisory position over us. We learned to say maam and sir and the need to be kind to everyone even if you didn't like them. Mama always reminded me that honey collected more bees than vinegar so we learned how to be "honey sweet" even if we didn't like them. Mama said that to charm them was much better than making them mad and she taught me well.

I had to work with a man in remodeling the school library where I worked several years ago and people told me how rude he was. They also told me he was arrogant and hard to work with and I was a lot intimidated until I remembered what my mama had taught me. The first time I met him I dressed as prettily as I could, walked to meet him with my hand extended to shake his with a great, big smile on my face. I told him I had heard he was a wonderful cabinet maker and how I was looking forward to letting him show me just how good he was and how I just knew he was going to do a great job for me. I flattered him, blinked my eyelashes, smiled oh so sweetly and stroked his ego until he was puffed up like a toad frog.

The outcome of pouring on all this honey was some of the best cabinet work I have ever seen in that library. He went over and beyond what he had to do and gave me his very best and we became friends through it all. Now don't you tell me that respecting someone and pouring on the honey doesn't work for I know it does. This is especially true if it is a man so try it.

Now to get back to our discussion. There were some questions we were never to ask or facts we were not to express. You did not ask a lady her age or weight and you never said the word pregnant or sex. You knew how old they were and you could see if they were overweight and sex and preganancy were private matters. You also didn't ask how much anything cost or volunteer how much anything you had cost. That was considered bad manners for it was rather obvious if you had on expensive clothing and it was not necessary to ask such a personal question. It might hurt their feelings and it would show your lack of breeding and embarass your mama and that was a huge no-no.

I worked with someone one time who would examine all that I had on, comment on whether she liked it or not, inquire where I got it and how much it cost. She would even reach out and touch the item to see what it felt like and that was invading my personal space. It would just fly all over me and I had to remember the bees and the honey before the vinegar spewed out of my mouth. It didn't take me long to realize that she had not been taught the good, Southern manners I had and all I could say was "Bless her heart." When I wouldn't tell her where I bought it or how much it cost she would just sniff loudly and walk away as if I had hurt her feelings. Finally one day I told her I had been taught that was rude and it was none of her business. That stopped those questions although I could see the battle going on in her mind after she examined me every morning.

One of the cardinal rules mama taught us was not to brag about how much anything cost. Now at our house it didn't cost a whole lot for mama made most of what we wore and she made the drapes, upholstered the furniture, painted the furniture and did anything else that needed doing. This meant we looked good but it didn't cost a whole lot. In fact, if you had any raising or breeding of any kind you just didn't brag about what you had or how much it cost. Again we were taught that was private information and was nobody's business but yours.

Where we were raised there are lots of plantation, Ante-bellum homes and people who owned huge amounts of land and some had a lot of money. Many of these families however had once been wealthy but had fallen on hard times or spent all that their daddy and granddaddys had made. This didn't stop some of them from continuing to live like they had been raised but it did mean they owed a lot of money.

I remember asking mama why some of these ladies worked and their husbands played at farming, hunted and fished and mama said somebody had to make the living and some of these men just never found a job worthy of them. It took me awhile to understand what she meant but I finally realized that the women in these families were the strong ones and the men, well you know what I think about them. Some worked at working but just never pulled it off and many of these lovely old homes were falling apart but still full of beautiful antiques and were sitting on some of the riches farming land in the world.

It was also a fact that many of these families owed the merchants in town a lot of money. After all they had to keep up the front of living the lifestyle they were accustomed to. Those days were before credit and debit cards and you just told the store owner the "Charge it" and they would write it out in a little pad and give you the receipt. At the end of the month you would get the bill for the purchases and at our house you paid it off. A clerk told mama, in confidence of course, that many of these families owed them money they would never be able to pay off. I was shocked for mama and daddy hated to owe anyone a dime.

Now don't get me wrong for not all of the old families in our town were like this for many of them worked very hard farming and being good stewards of what had been left to them. They lived just like their good Southern mamas raised them and did not brag about what they had or how much it cost.

Being Southern is more than just the location where we live and it also includes some basic manners. These manners are based on respect for yourself and for others and the need to not think you are better than someone else because of money you have. These basic rules are slowly slipping away and it makes me sad for it means our society is not as kind as it used to be and respect for others is fast disappearing.

Tomorrow I am going to write about a wedding write up in a small paper I read today and about fell off the couch laughing. It is quiet evident that these families had not been taught not to brag and brag loudly about what they had or what they owed. As mama would say, Bless their hearts, they just don't know any better but I would add maybe they just don't care.

Drop by tomorrow and I will give you lowdown on this affair.

Ya'll come back to see me and stay warm.

Nuff said,

The Georgia Peach
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Southern Eating

Good morning. Why is it you wake up at 5:30 in the morning when you could sleep later? Do you realize at this time of day it is still dark? Seeing the sunrise from our garden room is wonderful, but I do wish my internal clock would reset itself to "retirement time."

This does give me a time of peace and quiet until the birds awaken. We have lots of crows in our yard and they have this strange idea they own the place and can run all other birds away. Their chatter is very loud and grates on the ears and is quite bossy sounding. They especially dislike hawks and owls and will gather as a flock of many to scold, fuss and squawk loudly until the hawk or owl flies away. Poor birds - the crows will follow for quite a distance screaming their dislike and sounding like a bunch of banshees.

This sounds a little like a bunch of nasal, northerners gathered together at a good Southern cafe. They just sit there and complain loudly about the Southern cuisine of cornbread, black-eyed peas, fried chicken, and sweet iced tea. If you don't like that there will always be country fried steak, rice and gravy, butterbeans, cream corn and biscuits. All this will be served with sliced onions, pickles and lots of butter. Salad, maybe, but slaw will always be available. Down here you can most always find fried fatback bacon and for dessert, bread pudding or banana pudding, pecan pie and peach cobbler and this is just a sample of what a good, Southern, like yo mama's cooking, cafe will have for you to eat.

Now why are sitting there shrilly complaining? Well, hello! You did select a cafe advertising cooking like yo mama's so what did you expect? I don't know, for I have never tarried up North too long and don't know what their mama's cook and don't have a hankering to find out. Whatever it is, it won't be as good as our mama's cooking.

A group of women or men like this can plumb wreck the ambiance of a good cafe. I prefer the soft, slurred, no "r" sound of the Southerner. It just kinda floats through the air, wraps it's warmth around your shoulders and makes you feel good all over. A warm, fuzzy blanket of sound covers you up with love and a desire to make you feel good.

When that sweet, young thing or old thing, comes to your table and asks, "What would you like today?" sounds like music to your ears or "eahs" as I would say. You just can't help but smile and say fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas or butterbeans, and a great big cathead biscuit. Cornbread is a great alternative as long as it is not dry and hard enough to knock a knot on your head. Then in that soft voice and with a sweet smile you are asked if you want tea or coffee. Now everyone south of the Mason Dixon Line knows that means sweet, iced tea over ice or strong, black coffee with lots of sugar. Whichever you like is poured over and over again until you are full as a tick and ready to roll out of the cafe.

It is rather sad that some Southerners have visited too long with their Northern cousins, watched too much TV or observed too many Northern travelers for occasionally you hear unsweetened, iced tea, decaff coffee, just water, or a pot of hot tea. Now let me tell you. If you ask for hot tea, you are not going to get a pot but a mug of hot water and 1 lone, sad teabag served with a sad expression of disbelief. Water seems to have become popular also, but fried chicken or chicken fried steak does not taste the same with water!!! You have to wash it down with tea or coffee.

You see, we down here take our eating seriously. We want it hot, generous portions, fried, boiled or baked, served with a smile and wrapped in a slow, Southern drawl. I don't mean to be discourteous or unmannerly, but if you can't appreciate this, you do NOT need to go to a Southern cafe advertising your mama's cooking. We don't need the noise pollution, please.

Weeeel, did I chase a rabbit today! Had fun doing it and why don't you use that little, ole comment box to the left of this posting and let me know what you think. To all my Northern friends who have moved South, I have noticed that some of you are getting the hang of our drawl and though it sounds a little harsh, you are getting there. Thanks for adjusting, we appreciate it. Next thing you know, you will be asking for my cornbread and biscuit recipe.

Nuff said,

The Georgia Peach
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Friday's Memories

Good morning, ya'll. I know it has been several days since we talked, but I have been brain dead for the past few days. Just not a lot to say and I also had to visit Dr. Jekyll. Not to worry though, for it was just for him to check the stitches where he tore out a couple of teeth. They were doing fine but it is still a little rough to eat anything crispy so no fried chicken for a while. Monday I go to see Dr. Tooth Mechanic. He will be putting in my "permanent" teeth and a bridge. Talk about a mouth full of stuff, well I'll have it. Be glad when this ordeal is over.

I think maybe if I had counted the cost and the pain I may have elected to just pull the suckers. There is a problem however. Watching a person with no teeth eating is not the most beautiful sight in the world. Some of them can handle it rather gracefully but some drool all over everything and the nose meets the chin and the smacking - not a fun activity.

Now I'm not making fun of these people so don't start writing letters, OK? Just thinking about some of my family and how they chose to eat. The ones who really amuse me are those who have false teeth or fox teeth we called them, and take them out and place them beside the plate while they gum the food. Why in the world did they go to the pain and trouble to have them pulled and false teeth made? It looks like a partial mouth sitting by their plate just waiting to steal a bite.

Then there are those who have false teeth and I never know it. This is beautiful but I just have this nagging suspicion that I would be one of those who would take them out and place them beside the plate and gum the food. I'm not one to put up with much pain or bother. If it bothers me, I just do away with the problem for my patience level is Nil, nada, and nothing. Remember the ADD thing?

Speaking of eating, have you noticed the table manners of some people these days? After all those years of teaching you would think I had seen it all, but I think it gets worse every day. I am amazed when eating in a restaurant how many men sit at the table and eat with their hats on. Now if we had tried that our mama would have chastised us up and down and sideways and banned us from the table. If we had dared to do it again she would have worn our bee-hinds out. In these days I do believe there are some men who have super glued their hat to their heads or either their brains have left with their hair and they don't want to display their lack of hair and brains.

Personally, I don't think it is either. I think it is just plain, bad manners and their mamas didn't teach them better or wear out the seat of their britches. You see, I have encountered some of those mamas who just don't raise their children, they just breed, birth and let nature take it's course.

Now take the bad manners with the cell phones, the blackberries, the blueberries, the I Phone, the beepers, the bangers and all the other means of transferring information. First, I'm not sure how much information is being transferred or rather just a bunch of noise. Now I cleaned up that description for delicate ears for I really think it is worse, you fill in the adjective. While you are trying to eat a nice meal, the yoyo at the next table, male and female are talking loudly in their phone of some sort and you are hearing a lot more personal information than you want or need.

I heard a lady recently in a doctor's office telling a friend all about our female problems she was having and what she wanted the doctor to do about it. Now, I really didn't care about hearing the details of her "problems" I remember my mama and the "Mama Police" teaching us not to discuss our "female" problems in public and especially with men present. This is a delicate matter and you don't discuss "delicate matters" in public. It was hard for many of my older friends to even discuss it with their doctor and heaven-to-Betsy, not in public. I still wonder how in the world some of them had children since it involves SEX. You know that word you whisper?

Back to the phones and such. There are also those who eat and text at the same time. Now this is a nasty business for the food doesn't always make it to the mouth or they chew with their eyes glazed over and one hand trying to punch those little buttons. Some of them just forget to eat and just text and text. I watched a teenager texting the entire meal, never touched the food and never interacted with the family. The parents told him several times to put it up but I kinda think at that house it was all talk and no warming the seat. Now if it had been me, I would have jerked that phone out of his hand, put it in my big pocket book and he would have to clean his room, the bathroom and tell me he loved me about a jillion times. Where has parental authority gone?

Eating out now is an exercise in tolerance. Now I realize I am old-fashioned, aged and cantankerous, but manners never go out of style for it makes the world a pleasant place to live. So my advice to you parents is for Pete's sake, teach your children some manners and make them use them. Also I would ask the parents to use good table manners, put up their cell phones and other mind-grabber electronics and talk to your kids. They need you and your example.

Nuff said,

The Georgia Peach
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