M'dears Pie

“Today’s a new day. Today’s the day of new beginnings. Today’s the day of what them Sunday school teachers and preachers talk about every week. Ah, yes, optimism and good ol’ hope! I can feel it in my bones that today, this day, June the 10^th, 1947—it will be one worth remembering. Just take one big whiff of that rich southern air? Smells like mama in there making one them pies, don’t it?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say, I think she is!”

Alabama is one those of states that one doesn’t vacation to very often unless you’re from there or have an extensive family record illustrating family origins which date back several generations. To be exact, West Alabama. There isn’t anything over there but pastures, select stores, few schoolhouses-churches and everyone knows each other; in other words, this is the country!

“Aye Ritchie, go in and ask mama where she want this thing. And bring back some tea and cold rag, this heat ain’t no joke!”

“Mama, Bo said where you want that thing?”

With her eyes barely open, slowly but steadily rocking back and forth in her big wooden rocking chair which was handcrafted by grandpa Jesse forty-seven years ago,

“Come put mama’s shoes on, so I can see what y’all talking about. And don’t you go in my kitchen, here?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Both walk towards the old and rusted screen door, just where Bo is sitting with his back towards them. It seems to be the only shade in the whole yard.

“What thing, Bo? And what you doing in my yard? I thought you fed the chickens and milked the cows this morning?”

“Oh, hey there, mama! I didn’t mean to bother you and all. But see, I got this tree here and thought you might like it since you might be giving birth any day now.”

She stands in the doorway with an undeniable and wide angelic grin, whilst gripping her aching back simultaneously rubbing her balloon sized blessed belly.

“Ain’t that nice? You hear that, Ritchie? Uncle Bo planting trees in the yard.”

Bo places his hat back on his head and proceeds to ask another question.

“So m’dear, where can I put it? I also gave Ritchie there a little gift. We’ll plant that, too.”

“Well, I’m guessing you can put it close to the drive way, next to the rose bed. And what gift you gave my boy?”

“I had some extra seeds, so we planting some tomatoes for you. I know how you love your tomatoes!”

“May God bless you, Bo! Thank you. If you wasn’t no kin to me, I swear you was sweet on me.”

Both shared a light-hearted laugh, except for Ritchie.

“Ritchie, you in my kitchen?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Boy, I thought I—”

Ritchie walks back to the doorway with several glasses of tea and a few cubes from the ice box.

“Aye, that’s my boy! Thanks, Ritchie! I know we in Alabama but it feel like we down in the delta it’s so doggone hot, lord have mercy!”

Bo takes several sips of the tea and suddenly loses his footing.

“Mama, now I normally have to go across town for this type of drink. Why aren’t you in business? This is too good!”

“Hush up, now,”

“Go help your uncle, baby. Change into your play clothes, first.”

As Bo pulls his cart closer towards the porch, Ritchie steps out of the door and kisses his mama on the cheek.

“Nephew do me a favor, go grab me that small shovel and I’ll use the big one.”

“Yes sir.”

Ritchie skips to the cart and has a puzzling look on his face, so many tools. So many questions.

“Bo,”

“Yeah,”

“What’s a shovel look like?”

Bo stands still and looks back toward the doorway at Mama as she lets out a deep belly laugh.

“Now brother, you know you teach him everything. You know he doesn’t know what shovels are.”

“I reckon so.”

Bo walks over to the cart wiping the sweat off his brow with his trusted faded blue handkerchief.

“Alright now, pay attention son. This right here, this is a shovel. Just remember, long piece of wood that looks like a spoon.”

Pointing directly at an oval shaped piece of iron linked to an outstretched piece of wood with a metallic handle which he’d found just moments prior.

“And that there, that’s a rake. Over yonder is a hoe, and under there doesn’t concern you. Understand?”

“I think so.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you. Just grab the shovel and let’s work.”

“Don’t work my baby too hard now, Bo.”

“I won’t. Now go on and get off your feet. We’ll be in after a while,”

“Ritchie, how your marks coming along? Good, I hope.”

“Yes sir, Mama says I’m very bright,”

“I like school. I like spelling and math the most.”

“Oh yeah? Man its hot, oowee! Hand me that rag on the cart. What’s 2+2?”

“Everybody knows that.”

“I just asked. You gotta be sharp if you’re going to make something of yourself, can’t have my nephew being the only fool in the family.”

“Yes sir.”

“Hey, I gotta question for you now.”

“Yeah son, hold this shovel, we’re ready to drop the tree in this here spot. It’s gonna liven up the yard. Yes suh, thanks nephew! One down and now the seeds!”

“Why do big people give me, Ruth, and mama dirty looks when we walk in town?”

“Well son, I don’t think that it’s my place to tell you. But I will tell you this: you just like me was born free. Those people who give you dirty looks—no matter what they look like—are not free. When you grow older just like this tree, you’ll realize that what is around you is the problem. You must do your best to see yourself as you see this tree, beautiful just as you are. Deserving water and sunlight. And an environment that takes care of you instead of hurts you. Okay?”

“…okay.”

It pains Bo to hear something so complicated come from a child especially during a bonding moment. However, one man with a strong moral compass leads generations with their blueprint. All it takes is passing of the right torch.

“You remember what the hoe looks like, right? The long piece of wood with a straight piece of iron at the end, bring it here to the rose bed. I’m going to get some more of mama’s tea and hopefully she’ll cut that pie.”

“I want a piece.”

“If you hadn’t had any supper you know you can’t have any sweets.”

Bo Waltzes into the house as if tasks had been completed and he’d also been struck by love when in fact, it was just him trying to dodge the blazing heat bolting towards the kitchen.

“Uh uh. No sir, where you going?”

“Aw come on now, mama! Just one slice? It ain’t gon’ hurt the pie, I promise. Oh yeah, and some more tea.”

“Brother you’s a fool if I seen one, just like my Willie God rest his soul, now get out my kitchen! Out!”

“What is it with men and pies?”

“Lord help me, I tell ya. Why can’t you all wait ‘til dinner is done? It ain’t even been out the oven good half-hour and already you drooling on yourself, you and Ritchie and he just like his Pa. Just love sweets more than real food. Dontcha?”

“Don’t be like that now. I promise. You won’t even know it’s gone. Just a slither? A crumb?”

“Bo get from ‘round me wit yo silly self!”

Bo walks outside in the look of sweet defeat though head held high, still, his mission was to get a piece of mama’s famous pie.

“What happen, did you get it?”

“Ritchie, look me in my eyes—,”

“I needs my slice. But first, let’s get those seeds in the ground. Deal?”

“Yes sir!”

“You know what this is, don’t you?”

“Mhmm. Stink, too! Must be fresh.”

“Yup. We’re not going to set our rows here.”

Fresh manure always finds its way asserting itself into rooms and areas where it isn’t wanted. Well, gardening, yes but—in your nostrils? That tangy aroma is in direct violation of nature.

“Uncle Bo, I got ‘nother question for ya!”

“Lay it on me.”

“Why do you walk like that?”

Ritchie has always noticed that his uncle has had polio but never fully understood why his walk was drastically different from everyone else he has come across.

“I don’t know, son. I just have this walk. Why’s your head bigger than your body?”

Both share a giggle.

“Don’t be telling my baby nothing about his head. God made him special.”

Mama has made her way back into the doorway. Her apron now speckled with dried stains, flour powder, and hands dripping with water as she’s drying them off on the kitchen towel which is hanging from her shoulder.

“You all can come wash-up and eat when your finish with the yard.”

“You hear that? Go get the hose and bring it here. We’re just about done.”

Today’s the day for new beginnings. Ritchie learned something new. Bo will get a slither or two of mama’s freshly made pie. And the town’s midwife should be on her way in a spell.

“Say mama, you alright? You don’t look too good.”

“Yes Bo. Baby just moving is all. I need to get off my feet. Ruth hand me that cup of water, baby.”

“Here you go mama. When’s Ms. Josephine supposed to be here?”

“Chile, I don’t know. I really d—.”

Just as mama goes to answer this question and take small sips of room temperature water, the floor beneath her suddenly becomes very slick. Her water broke.

One new tree planted. One row of seeds for an eventful sight of freshly grown tomatoes, and mama will soon give birth to a baby boy during this sweltering Alabama heat. Bo was right. June the 10^th, 1947 is a day worth remembering for the Brown family.