For All the Saints

My mom and my oldest wearing the Baptism outfit she made for him.

Since Sunday, I have been constantly singing a song in my head. We sing it every year for All Saints Sunday. It starts out, “For all the saints, who from their labors rest ...” As with all hymns, it goes on for at least four – 45 verses. When we got to this one, my voice cracked with emotion:

O blest communion, fellowship divine!

We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

yet all are one in thee, for all are thine.

Alleluia, Alleluia!

I thought of my mama, my Granny Kate, Papa Pierce, Grandmama Ovice and Papa George – their faces a glow, their bodies healed, their minds clear, their hearts full of love and goodness. As you know from my last post, I have some religious baggage. Sometimes I’m not sure what I believe. It took many years for me to even be comfortable sitting in a church again. After many internal battles – and some that continue to rage on – I had to arrive at a place where I admitted, “I don’t know, but I believe.” After all, isn’t that the purpose of faith? It’s about believing in things you can’t see, trusting that your life matters and is part of a bigger plan – a higher purpose. As I was singing this hymn, it hit me. They are why I’m here. It’s “For All the Saints” – the saints in my life – that I am drawn to church in the first place. Christianity was important to them. It’s how they were raised and defined who they were. I may have my issues, my doubts and my concerns – especially when others use the Bible and the Christian faith to justify their intolerance and flat out hatefulness toward others. There are some doctrines and dogma that I don’t feel comfortable with – but there is a lot I do feel comfortable with. Those are the messages of love, acceptance, humility, generosity and caring for the community.

Granny, Papa and Mama.

As my throat choked with tears, I tried to imagine us all together again. I imagined myself in Granny and Papa’s living room. They were in their respective recliners. Mama was there too. Everything decorated exactly as it has been since I was a little girl. Then I imagined Papa and Grandmama’s house before it looked like a convalescent home. The little propane heater humming. Papa sitting in his chair with his spit cup (snuff: it’s a Southern thing). Grandmama sitting in her rocker sharing the family news or talking about something that Preacher Moore said. How I wished I could go back in time and have everything be safe, warm and familiar for just a moment.

But, I can’t. And that’s why All Saints Day, All Hallow’s Day, All Soul’s Day or whatever you call it is important. It’s important to remember. Even if it makes us sad to reflect, those who come before us are a part of who we are. For that, I am thankful. They instilled in me a desire to be a better person, a good mama, a caring friend, to love my neighbors, and importantly for this blog, to be a good cook. I do it for myself, but I also do it for them – for all the saints.

Grandmama and Papa.

For All the Cooks

If you're new to the blog or missed these posts in the past, here are my favorite recipe posts related to my family. I truly believe that cooking and eating is another way we can all be together again as well!

Mama's Banana Pudding

Mama's Tea Cakes

Grandmama's M&M Cookies

Granny's Biscuits

I hope to be back with some more favorite family recipes and remembrances real soon!

What I Learned From Granny

Granny and Papa holding meeting their first grandbaby, my oldest. My mama is in the background.

It’s been a sad time lately. My Granny Kate passed away last week – just four months after Papa, her husband of 67 years. She was 84. I’ve written about Granny and her biscuits here before, and truly she was one of my favorite people in the world. When I was a little girl and even on into adulthood, I was always happy to go to Granny’s house. You never had to call ahead, knock or ring the doorbell. You just walked right in because the door was always unlocked if they were home. Granny and Papa would usually be sitting in their recliners in the living room or sitting in their rocking chairs out in the sunroom overlooking the pasture. Sometimes they would be sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner – which is really lunch. Granny would immediately get up and fuss to get you something to eat. It didn’t matter what time of day.

Of course, as kids, we knew where the candy stash was. She always kept a full candy jar with peppermints and hard candies. One time my brother got a butterscotch candy stuck in his throat – probably from shoveling too many into his mouth. We knew where the “hidden candy” was too. It was in the kitchen cabinet by the door. We would climb up on her bright green Formica counters and pull down a pack of Wrigley’s Doublemint gum, orange slice candies, coconut patties and sometimes old-fashioned chocolate drops. If she knew we were coming, there might be a cake or some tea cakes on the counter. When I was very little, I called her “Granny Cake” because I was pretty certain that was her name. Later in life, she kept an even bigger candy stash that the great grandkids enjoyed. My boys knew to go directly to the top drawer in the buffet for Reese’s cups and mini-Snickers. And, still -- there would sometimes be cake on the counter.

Aside from a love for all things sweet, here are a few other things I learned from Granny:

Granny on her 83rd birthday, I believe.

 Take care of others.

Granny was always the last one to sit down at the table and the first one to get up. My grandparents were definitely of the generation that housework was woman’s work – which used to aggravate me and my feminist sensibilities. However, I really do think it’s just how Granny loved. She was a doer. She loved taking care of Papa, her children and grandchildren. You never heard her complain or talk about being “unfulfilled” – she worked hard keeping the house and helping out on the farm. The moments she did take for herself were spent reading a good book. That’s another thing I learned from her.

Don’t be afraid to laugh at yourself.

Granny had no pretense about her whatsoever. If she ever did anything silly or stupid, she laughed. She was also not too dignified to enjoy a fart joke. I think I played with my first whoopee cushion at her house. (In truth, our whole family enjoys our potty humor.) She also used to take her dentures out and make faces for us when we were kids. She was just plain funny.

Granny as a girl.

Girls can play sports.

In my short-lived softball career with the Coal Mountain Cuties, Granny would get out and play catch with me. She would play ball with all of us grandchildren. Had I any athletic prowess, I’m sure she would have supported me all the way. She loved watching the Atlanta Braves and NASCAR. When she was young, she was quite a hit playing stickball in the pastures. She also played basketball in high school when she and Papa first starting “sparking,” as they called it.

Granny and Papa, circa 1945.

Southern words and sayings work in most conversational settings. 

“Lord” or any variation thereof (Lord-a- mercy, Lordy, Lord God) is an exclamation that works for most any occasion. Other favorites I learned from Granny:

fixin' to= about to

ain’t no count = not any good

branch=creek

poke=bag

yonder=over there

chawed out =embarrassed

plumb=entirely, as in “She was plumb chawed out!” or “I’m plumb worn out!”

And of course …

Bless your heart, bless his/her heart, bless their hearts=meaning varies depending on the situation

Music is good for the soul.

Granny grew up singing gospel hymns in the Baptist church. She knew them all and instilled a love of sacred music in her children and grandchildren. Her girls took piano lessons and knew the hymnal by heart. I’m a piano failure, but I do know how to sing the hymnal thanks to my family’s love of music. Music was also important in Papa’s family as his daddy, Jim Corn, taught Sacred Heart or shaped-note singing. Granny was always humming and loved to rock and sing to babies. When it came to church or family singing, Granny belted out the alto part with gusto. Probably the last time I sang with Granny was with when my mama was very sick seven years ago. Granny sat by her bedside humming. I brought a hymnal in and we sang together. It’s all we knew to do.

Granny rocking my baby - and I'm pretty sure she was talking baby talk.

A New Era

As were cleaning up dishes after the funeral my cousin lamented about Granny’s candy jar being empty. “It’s the end of an era, girls,” my aunt said wistfully. And truly it is. Now all of my grandparents are gone and my heart aches for the way things used to be. However, I had an epiphany in that moment:  it’s also a new era. It’s my turn to be a mama and hopefully one day, a granny. Because my mother was taken too soon, in my own little family, I’m the matriarch now. It’s my turn to organize the family get-togethers, to bake the cakes and fill the candy dishes. It’s my turn to pass on life skills and the time-honored traditions of family and faith on to my boys. I just hope that I can do as half as good of a job as my Granny and Mama did with me. This little blog is one of the ways I’m trying to do my part. Thank you for following my journey!

A Visit to the North Carolina Mountains

It's been a strange summer in Atlanta. It's scarcely gotten over 85 degrees, it's rained like Seattle and now it's almost over -- at least for the kids. I can't believe that my kids go back to school in less than two weeks! We are trying to squeeze every bit of remaining summer fun in between day camps, doctor's appointments, back to school shopping and afternoon thunderstorms. There are pools to frequent, amusement parks to visit, cooking projects and so much that we just haven't gotten to yet. But, we did get to travel a good bit this summer. We just got back from the beach in Florida, but in late June, we had the unexpected treat of going to the Boone and Blowing Rock area of North Carolina. I'm writing a story for Atlanta Parent, so look for that in September. But, for now, I want to share a few photos and highlights of our trip.

First of all, North Carolina is just a stunningly beautiful state. The mountain views of the high country near the border of Virginia, are just phenomenal. While my husband worked, my boys and I set off to Dahlonega to pick up my dad. Just before we got to his house, my youngest puked in the car. What's a road trip without a little drama? After a bit of a rough start, we got back on the road and drove the North Georgia Mountains and through Franklin heading toward Asheville. We made it to Boone in about 5 hours and met up with the travel writers that I would be tagging along with. On the agenda: family fun.

My oldest got to go ziplining with me the first day and had the time of his life. Remember that I zip lined for the first time last year in Hilton Head? Well, I feel like an old pro now (sniff, sniff). Hawksnest Zipline offers a scenic journey through what used to be a ski resort. The lines go through hardwood forests, over woodland creeks and offer amazing views throughout. A couple of the lines were over 1500 feet long and I pretty much screamed myself silly. I was proud of my cautious, level headed boy for taking on the challenge.

Zipping and crossing swinging bridges through the trees.

Proof I did it!

Another highlight was visiting Grandfather Mountain. It's so incredibly breathtaking -- and the best part -- you can drive almost to the top. No sherpa required! There is a swinging bridge that joins two of the peaks. The boys had fun climbing over the rocks along the cliff and scaring me to death. My dad, the ultimate mountain-lover, remembers going there as a kid. It was nice to get to see him reconnect with the beauty of the mountain views and experience it with his grandboys.

Grandfather and grandsons on top of Grandfather Mountain.

Please don't fall off the mountain, boys!

Simply unbelievable walking between two mountain tops.

There is much more to tell you about, but I'll have to save that for the story. Finally, since this is technically a food blog, I would be remiss not to mention our meal at the Dan'l Boone Inn. It's an old-fashioned family-style (meaning they bring heaping bowls of food to the table to share) restaurant that has served the Boone area for over 50 years. It's been covered in Southern Living and on all the "best of" lists. I particularly enjoyed the country ham and biscuits and fried chicken. The country ham was locally cured and the biscuits were definitely from scratch - buttery and delicious.

Country ham and biscuits at the Dan'l Boone Inn.

I hope you are having a wonderful summer. I'll be back soon with beach adventures and, of course, good food.

The Sweet By and By

Sorry I've been away for a while. In light of everything that is happening on the news, I feel distracted and useless today. It's been a tough week for this country. And it's been a tough week for me. My grandfather, my mom's dad, passed away on Sunday night. He was 85 years old and lived a long and rich life. I think somewhere deep down I must have known that his time with us was not long. The timing is just incredible. With our move, renting our old house, kids' ballgames and the hectic pace of life, I had not seen him since Christmas. I had been feeling guilty for months and wanting to see Granny and Papa. I am so glad that we made time for a quick visit on Sunday on our way home from camping trip (more on that later).

The Corn family, circa 1985. I'm the older girl. My mom is wearing pink in the back. Papa, of course is beaming left center.

The change in both him and my grandmother since Christmas was dramatic. He could barely talk but when we walked in he asked how things were going in Atlanta. Granny tried to make small talk but made little sense - the effects of Alzheimer's and a recent stroke. However, both seemed to know that we were theirs and they made us welcome. When we left, I hugged each of them. My youngest gave them each a hug and a kiss. Granny said to Nicholas, "You're a sweet boy!" Papa grabbed my hand and looked me in the eyes. "You come see us again soon," he said. I promised I would. Later that night I got the call that he had passed on. He died peacefully in his sleep. Amazingly, he and my Granny have been able to live at home. The same little house they built more than 60 years ago.

Gathering with family and old family friends is always the best part of the funeral process. (Good food is usually involved too!) It was so nice to be with those that I love and who love me. It was nice to make jokes and remember the essence of who Papa was. He was a farmer and a church-going man. He married his high school sweetheart and loved her faithfully for 66 years. He wanted all his kids to have a college education - something that he never had. He was immensely proud of his family and his heritage. He loved genealogy and figuring out how he was kin to everyone in the county. He was firm with his four children, but doted on his grandkids and great-grandkids. At family gatherings, there was often a baby in Papa's lap. Though certainly not perfect, he was a very good man.

A picture I found from last year.

I was surprised at how much his funeral and burial brought to the surface so much sadness that I still feel about losing my mama. This was her daddy and I so felt her presence among her people. I felt almost as if she were there the whole time but conveniently missing if I were to look around for her. I especially felt her next to me as my cousins, her sister and brother sang the hymn, "In the Sweet By and By." The chorus, "We shall meet on that beautiful shore," is still ringing in my ears. I do know in my heart that we will meet again, but life here on earth is never going to be same. I want her here with me and I always will.

I've heard a lot of talk about heaven this week and it's challenged me to think more about it. I guess I don't think of heaven as a big party where loved ones, religious figures, angels and celebrities from all the ages are hanging out in golden palaces. I think it is so different and so holy that we cannot even begin to understand it. I think of it as the ultimate comfort, the ultimate safely and wholeness. Although I often struggle with my faith, I do believe, deep down, that God is good. I do believe there is life beyond the sorrows of this world. In the midst of darkness, there is hope.

Thanks for reading this "therapy post." I will be back soon with happier stories and recipes. Take care, and my thoughts and prayers are with the people of Boston and all those who suffer on this day.