The year was 1972. Nixon was president, the Vietnam war was raging, and the evening television news was all about student unrest. It seemed like rebelling against all manner of authority was in the air. Some did it through music and strange wardrobe choices. Others rebelled through drug use and the rejection of moral norms. My parents were quite strict, so I had lots of limits on expressing personal rebellion. Dad was a World War 2 vet. Rebellion against authority wasn’t something that went down smoothly in the Sims home. But, alas, I found a way to do it. I did it, primarily, by running my mouth.
Category Archives: Small Town America
THE AMAZING AUNT BAPPY
Bessie J. Wiggins and her twin brother, Jesse B. Wiggins, were born in 1899 in rural South Carolina. Bess and Jess, they called them, but Jess preferred to call his sister, “Bappy”– and it stuck. Before long everyone just called her “Bappy.” She hovers near the top of my list of “most unforgettable characters.” My wife, Peggy, had told me about Aunt Bappy even before we married. “I’ve never met anyone like her!” she remarked. “And no one has ever heard her say anything bad about anyone. She is the most kind, positive , and truly uplifting person I’ve ever met.”
We planned a trip to South Carolina for our first Thanksgiving together to attend a huge family reunion. Peggy was so excited for me to meet the family– especially the amazing Aunt Bappy. I looked forward to it, but prepared myself to not get my hopes up too high. Nobody is that nice. Her reputation, I assumed, was as much legend as fact.
BIRTHDAYS AND BIG DAYS AT MAMA SIMS’ HOUSE
I always rolled my eyes when I heard my parents and grandparents talk about the “good ole days.” They talked fondly about having to use outhouses in the freezing cold, and walking three miles to school every morning. What’s up with that? It’s like the grass was always greener during the Great Depression. Whew! That was way before air conditioning. No, thank you. But now that I am a parent and grandparent, I find myself doing the same thing, especially when I get together with my siblings and cousins. How we idolize those magical days of our past! Maybe the reason the good ole days are so nostalgic to us is because we are only able to touch them again in our memories.
I say I miss those days, but when I think about it, they weren’t all so wonderful– at least not when I lived them the first time. Good ole days are always better re-lived that first lived. When nostalgia hits me, my mind especially takes me back to those birthdays and big days we spent at Mama Sims’ house. There were two birthdays that were more important to us than those belonging to Washington or Lincoln– Mama Sims’ birthday, and Little Grandmaw’s birthday.
THE “CRUB” MARKET
For YEARS, at the southeast corner of 2nd Avenue South and the Mellow Valley Highway stood the Ashland Crub Market. Yes, you read it correctly– “crub” market. A ten foot, homemade sign emblazoned with black letters on a plain white background greeted travelers headed south from town, just one block from the court house square. Almost all Ashlanders will remember it.
Obviously, it was supposed to say “curb market,” which is an open air fresh fruit and vegetable stand, common throughout the South. At curb markets, we could buy fresh produce by the box or by the item, cash only. It was a quick, happy way to usher those fresh grown veggies into the kitchen– especially for Ashlanders who didn’t have time to work their own gardens.
SPEAKING IN CURSIVE
Last week I spent some time in a retail tire store waiting to get a new set of tires on my truck. Using the down time to check my email on my smart phone, I found myself totally distracted by a meltdown that was occurring on the other end of the waiting area. Some guy was not happy about his tires, and was letting the store employee know about it something fierce!
Whoa! I quickly looked around to make sure there were no women and children in earshot of his verbal tirade. Although I was interested in what the tire guy had done wrong in case I needed to beware of buyers remorse, it was totally impossible to follow his logic since every other word made me cringe. Fortunately, the two took it outside and I was spared the full performance. Later I got a text from a co-worker who asked, “Are you busy?” My response was, “No. Just listening to a guy speak cursive.” On the other end I read, “What??”
