Speaking of Politics........

Homogenous is the word I would use to describe my growing up years in East Tennessee.  In fact, that word would describe most of the US during the 1950's.  Everyone tried to look, act, and think like the folks that were most like them and to put down those 'not like' them.  There was tremendous conformity in all parts of society; Tennessee was no different.  The only differences expressed in Tennessee were those used to describe the state as 'three states, east, middle, west'.  This description meant that each differed significantly politically, racially, occupationally, and geographically. Within each of these 'three states' everyone copied everyone else.

East Tennesseans were small truck farmers because their land was tied to mountains, valleys and hollers. They grew corn, tobacco, cattle. They were Republicans because they fought with the Union during the Civil War and they thought of themselves as stubbornly independent to the end. NO need to trust anyone. West Tennesseans were Democrats because they fought with the South during the Civil War. Their land was flat, sandy, and well suited for cotton. They believed cooperation was better than arguing especially if you were dealing with people that accepted the same racial beliefs that you held.  Geographically, Middle Tennessee was a mixture of East and West; politically it was more Democratic like West Tennessee.

For as long as I can remember I was told I was a Republican by my father and my relatives.  I knew that Democrats were bad. Daddy said he would consider me and my older brothers traitors and enemies if we ever said anything positive about Democrats. During my growing up I was told there were 4 Democrats in our county and given their names.  My father said, "Patsy, they's two things I never, ever, want you to do: "You must never drive a Ford, (we were a General Motors family), and you must never marry a Democrat!" Because Daddy was a community leader he ranted daily about 'them awful Democrats' and 'them sorry Ford trucks.' I knew doing either of these would get me kicked out of our family.

In high school I encountered my first Democrat teacher, Mr. Seals, who taught history, and I got to hear the other side. Students argued daily with him.  I was only a listener in these debates while other students told Mr. Seals he was flat out wrong. He rarely became agitated; he just spoke his side back to their arguments. I remember his class as being in a constant uproar with discussions and arguments. I also got to know the Democrat students in my class, especially, Herman Lawson who was the only Democrat in class who sided and argued with Mr. Seals. Of course he would be a Democrat because his Dad was one of the four Democrats in the county! I don't remember thinking a lot about what was said in class, but I do remember that the class stood out to me in some unidentifiable way. Perhaps it was the new ideas. 

By the end of the senior year Herman asked me to the Alumni Banquet. We ended up deciding on the same college in East Tennessee.  College was the thing that shook my Republican world in a hard way. I loved psychology and sociology and nothing that I had been taught about politics at home fit into what I was now being taught by my professors.  It was a new framework for viewing things that I had never considered before. The more I learned about conflict over resources, religions, wars, human rights and sharing the earth with other people, the more I knew I did not embrace Republican ideas. Night after night I thought about these new ideas. Herman and I often talked for hours about a variety of social and political issues.  We also argued and debated continually. By the time we graduated college and got married, I was totally committed to the Democrat cause. I felt I finally had chosen my own political beliefs for the first time rather than just echoing the family beliefs.  


Daddy never knew about my conversion because he died before I completed high school. I suppose this worked out just fine because I didn't have to get disowned by my father or face challenges from other family members. Much to my surprise my brothers and other relatives accepted my change without arguement. Oh, by the way, our first car as a couple was a FORD.

 





 

Appalachian Creasy Greens and THE Worm

Well, it's fall again in my part of the universe. I awoke this morning with memories of seasonal changes in food in my native county of Hancock. I don't assume these food changes are any different from other parts of Appalachia or other Southern regions because the culture is a widely shared one. Fall always meant getting the crops in and finishing up the garden before the first good hard frost. 

 

By September and October the food focus at our house had moved from fresh beans, corn and cucumbers to a variety of fresh greens, including mustard, turnip and wild creasy greens. The sweet potatoes had been dug and were being put away for the winter. These sweet potatoes were a perfect combination with crowder peas which, incidentally, are not the same thing as black-eyed peas.  Our daily menus changed with the arrival of each new season and were always welcomed. In October Mama and Aunt Ruby could be found roaming through the cut corn and tobacco patches in search of creasy and other wild greens. As soon as one of them discovered a new patch of wild greens they ran across the road to announce their find. As a child I often went on wild greens searches and soon became quite adept at knowing a weed from these delightful delicacies.

 

Once these wild greens were brought inside for cleaning and processing a whole new conversation emerged around making sure the greens were ready to be cooked. Cleaning was VERY important. It really boiled down to washing off dirt from the broad leaves and a search for small green worms that were often hidden somewhere on the leaves.  Mama loved to give lectures and demonstrations on how to find these small worms. She always stressed the importance of finding them so they would not be cooked with the greens. 

 

Also, there was one or two stories sprinkled into these lectures about somebody in the neighborhood who was not 'clean' with their greens, and how during a meal a dead worm was discovered floating around while eating the greens.  It seemed to me that this story was there for the 'gag and fear factor' to the whole process.  Often a comment was made like, "Why, I wouldn't eat a meal at HER house at all because so and so said they found a worm in the greens."  This comment appeared to me to be the ultimate cooking insult. Honestly, this comment is absurd to me now because it would take a lot of effort to find this so-called worm, and the search for it would be pretty obvious to the host and everyone else. I mean, isn't the the meaning behind, "Quit picking in your food! Just eat it, for God's sake!" a warning so that the host won't be offended? As much as I love fresh greens in the fall of the year, I still live in fear of serving them to my guests because someone might discover a worm I overlooked. 

 

Incidentally, Mama believed she NEVER cooked a worm in her greens, EVER; and that Aunt Ruby probably cooked several of them because she was not careful ENOUGH. This was one of many ways she distinguished herself as a superior cook to Aunt Ruby. As a psychologist I understand that the second child (Mama) always tries to unseat the first child (Aunt Ruby) from the throne. Or maybe this was nothing more than two mountain women living out life in a culture that is constantly in search of cooked worms in fresh greens.

 

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