Mrs. Storey

   Let me tell you where my heart and mind wandered when I read about the murder of George Floyd.

   You can’t avoid a frank discussion of racism in America in the face of this horror. There is no telling yourself we have abandoned this hideous relic of the past, that dust and cobwebs grow on its antiquated surface. 
   Not when the rest of it is so violently displayed, fresh and bitter, in the form of a knee on the neck of a handcuffed man.

   I don’t know what crime George Floyd was charged with. I haven’t investigated it, because nothing he could have done would merit this complete abandonment of human civility. Nothing could possibly counterbalance the sheer brutality of the Minneapolis police officer demonstrating his dominance over his captive, helpless prisoner.

   So, back to where this image leads me: to Annie Storey.

   When Mrs. Storey came to teach my sixth grade class in Weaver, Alabama, she did it at a time when black women didn’t teach white children in small towns. 

   We were kids, oblivious to the challenges she must have faced until we considered them years later.

   She was young and beautiful and so gifted at fascinating children with the solar system and European geography, we were spellbound. She was my favorite teacher. Many of my fellow students felt (and feel) the same.

   We loved her. We search for her to this day. 

   Mrs. Storey wasn’t our African-American teacher. 

   She wasn’t our black teacher. 

   She was our captivating and wonderful teacher, who commanded our respect and admiration every day.

   Annie Storey never said one word about racism, about not judging people by their skin color, about any of the segregationist sentiment that dominated Alabama at the time.

   She walked into our humble classroom every day in her fashionable A-line dresses, smiled at us with the warmth of that sun she showed us on the chart by the blackboard, and taught us we are all the same.

   So many years have passed. I remember her with love and enormous gratitude.

   I've memorialized her in two books with a character, Lily, inspired by her beauty and dignity.

   And I hope wherever she is, Annie Storey didn’t see what just happened in Minneapolis.

   
   It would break her heart.







Love from Delta.

The South 101: Everything You Should Know About Banana Pudding

 

 

Write a blog post, they say. 

Make it connected to your new book's characters. 

Make it captivating.

Okay. Nothing is more captivating than the words "banana" and "pudding" together.

There may be controversy about a few things in The South, but we are in complete accord about banana pudding. Your Aunt Mary Nell brings it to every gathering. Your relations muster some whenever a family has someone in the hospital or loses a loved one.

And in IT ALL COMES BACK TO YOU, Violet and Ronni both adore it. That may not be mentioned in the book, but they do. Trust me, it's a foregone conclusion.

There are people who will tell you banana pudding originated in the North. Those people are lying. Now it's true, they had bananas when bananas were a luxury for Southerners, but they did unspeakable things with them. Like this.

 

What is HAPPENING here?

Lord.


In 1921, (we refer to this as "The Industrial Wafer Revolution"), a Mrs. Kerley in Indiana or Illinois or one of those I-states contributed a recipe for a banana pudding with Vanilla Wafers to a newspaper, while a Mrs. Smith invented a banana pudding with Vanilla Wafers for the Atlanta Women's Club cookbook, Pastries, Puddings, and Dumplings. And that is a cookbook title after my own heart.

• Y'all hush. They weren't called Nilla Wafers until later.
• Mrs. Smith's recipe was way better, bless Mrs. Kerley's heart.

Anyway, in the 1940s The National Biscuit Company (apparently the U.S. was still British enough to call what are clearly cookies "biscuits") published the now-classic recipe on the side of its Vanilla Wafers box, the whole shebang, with one metric ton of wafers, a creamy custard to cradle the bananas lovingly, and a meringue slathered all over the top. Serve it hot or cold. Earn the eternal affection of your family.


This is how it's done, folks, and I guarantee you, Violet would've eaten plenty of this in 1940s Alabama and Ronni is still eating it somewhere.

As for me, I'm a heretic. I like my banana pudding the way my mom and my daughter prepare it (you notice I'm not doing the heavy lifting here): not baked, with chilled pudding.


Here is the most fabulously exciting part of this blog post...my friend Marianne and I are going to the NATIONAL BANANA PUDDING FESTIVAL next month. Yes, this is a thing. Be very jealous, because they have a Puddin' Path, this glorious gift from God where you pay $5 and taste a plethora of pudding.

Grab a hankie—you may have to dab the corners of your mouth—the featured flavors this year include: Moon Pie Banana Puddin', White Chocolate & Caramel Banana Puddin', Puddin' and Pearls Banana Puddin', Caramel Cheesecake Banana Puddin', Eagle Brand Banana Puddin', and many more.

None of these flavors are heretical. They would only be heretical in an I-state (just kidding, y'all).

I fully expect to see some version of Ronni there, and I know Violet will be at the banana pudding festival in spirit. She'd have loved it, and probably would've been crowned Puddin' Princess (I made that up, but they should have one). 

You can follow this link to the Puddin' Path 

Meet Violet and Ronni here, in IT ALL COMES BACK TO YOU (click the pic)

Love from Delta.  

A Feather's Not a Bird

I'm going down to Florence, gonna wear a pretty dress

I'll sit on top the magic wall with the voices in my head

Then we'll drive on through to Memphis, past the strongest shores
And on to Arkansas just to touch the crumbled soul

A feather's not a bird
The rain is not the sea
A stone is not a mountain
But a river runs through me

- Rosanne Cash, "A Feather's Not a Bird"

Tom Hendrix

Johnny Cash's daughter wrote at least part of that song sitting where I did yesterday, in Tom Hendrix's driveway. We were surrounded by one of the most astonishing things I've ever seen—several million pounds of rock formed into an eternal memorial to Tom's great-great-grandmother.

And it's easy to see why. No one could visit Tom's Wall without being profoundly moved. I cried more than once listening to him tell Te-lah-nay's story. She was a Yuchi Indian, an eighteen-year-old forced from her home to walk the Trail of Tears to what we now know as Oklahoma. And Te-lah-nay did what no other of the thousands who were brutally "relocated" managed.

She walked back to Florence, Alabama. It took her five years to reach the place where the woman in the river sang to her, where she could be at peace, where she belonged.

She was a medicine woman who boiled willow bark for "head trouble." Her journal is probably the most precious thing Tom owns. He grew up listening to his grandmother tell the stories of Te-lah-nay's life and to the song of the river. He knew he had to do something to honor her memory.

He was talking to an elder in the Yuchi Tribe about it when he was told, "All things shall pass. Only the stones will remain."

So Tom did what pretty much no one else could imagine doing: he spent thirty-five years of his life constructing a wall of Tennesee River rocks. Thousands and thousands of them. One for each step his great-great-grandmother took to and from Oklahoma.

People call it a "magic wall" and I guess that's right.

Florence, Alabama is a beautiful city on the mighty Tennessee River. Stately homes dot the bluffs high above the water. The University of North Alabama sits on the edge of a vibrant downtown where college kids chase Pokemon and meet for pizza and beer. Upscale shops and fancy restaurants are all around if you can afford more than Ramen Noodles. I loved staying there.

But miles away from all that, bounded by deceased corn stalks and masses of leafy vegetable crops I couldn't identify, I found what is officially known as the Wichahpi Commemorative Stone Wall. It beckoned from a lot heavily shaded by trees that have seen hundreds of years.

Much better though, I found Tom Hendrix.

Tom's eighty-seven. His voice is gentle but commanding, each syllable carefully enunciated in an educated and clear manner. His eyes and cheekbones testify to his Yuchi heritage. He almost never pauses—the man is a born storyteller—and he's one of those people who clearly love people. It was a huge privilege to have him to myself for an hour.

We almost lost him. He was in a bad car accident recently and is obviously still in pain. That doesn't dim his enthusiasm for his massive project and the ancestor he honors one bit.

It's a woman's place, he told me. The wall and its benches and small amphitheater and prayer circle are all about the spirits of grandmothers, mothers and daughters. There's a special section that evokes grandmothers and I cried when I saw it, remembering my own.

It's a strangely peaceful and calm, tranquil spot. Even on an Alabama August day, the trees provided cool shade and I walked the length of the wall, trailing my fingers here and there on its surface and feeling generations of love and memory.

People all over the world know about Tom and his wall. They send special rocks to be carefully placed in a section he set aside for them. One looks like a glittery "girl whale." One is said to be a source of fertility. He put it in a place it can't be accidentally touched, and he swears a forty-nine year old woman held it and delivered a baby a year later. Fossilized wood, mastodon teeth and a turtle. There's a meteorite he had me pick up, small and unbelievably heavy.

But this place is about light and love and peace. I'm so grateful I got to visit it and the remarkable man who created it all.

This is where it all started...

The Prayer Circle—Tom says a few local ministers come here to prepare sermons.

Glittery girl whale with lipstick, one of many offerings from around the world. More follow...

Design from Te-lah-nay's journal; the artist who recreated it in stone signed it at lower right as "Man Who Falls Off Horses."

Meteorite

From the ocean, and lightning-fused sand

Fossilized wood

The Fertility Rock (no, I didn't)

Fossilized turtle!

•  Te-lah-nay means "Woman with the Dancing Eyes." Tom's got 'em.
• About "wichahpi": Charlie Two Moons, a respected spiritual leader, told Tom, "The wall does not belong to you, Brother Tom. It belongs to all people. You are just the keeper. I will tell you that it is wichahpi, which means 'like the stars'. When they come, some will ask, 'Why does it bend, and why is it higher and wider in some places than in others?' Tell them it is like your great-great-grandmother's journey, and their journey through life: it is never straight."
• "Indian" is the word Tom uses most often rather than "Native American", so I did here.
• Tom has written a book about Te-lah-nay's journey titled "If The Legends Fade." For more information about the book and its author, please see: www.ifthelegendsfade.com. 
• Here is a link to Rosanne Cash's beautiful song, which I loved way before I knew its connection to Tom's Wall: https://youtu.be/v5PzW1ZkGlI

Love from Delta.

My Christmas Must-Listen List

Everyone has a favorite Christmas song. Here are a few of mine.
(Please pardon and skip the commercials.)

Loved him at 13, love Brad now. Listen all the way through!

It goes without saying why this makes the list.

Love the Garth Brooks version, but had to settle for this.

Classic.

Carrie can sing.

Josh Turner's voice is amazing, and he is not difficult to look upon.

A Band Aid staple, remade by the incredibly talented Glee cast.

Hope you enjoy the music, and please post your favorites so I might add them.









Love from Delta.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

I am.

And I may be in major War Eagle trouble with my beloved and wonderful daughter for posting this, but she won't stay mad at me for long.

(I hope.)

I just plain can't resist . . .



ROLL TIDE.

Love from Delta, where I really do love BOTH teams.

Best. Concert. Ever.

    

     Imagine every one of the artists on this poster appearing in a single concert. Add a surprise appearance by those boys from Tuskeegee, The Commodores (Brick House, anyone?). All of this happened last night for a simple reason: the people of Alabama care about each other . . . and the members of the band Alabama are able to summon their friends to help.
     In the wake of four billion dollars in damage from the tornadoes of April 27th, Alabamians are faced with rebuilding in practically every  corner of the state. It is estimated the Bama Rising concert raised over one million dollars for that purpose, and I am proud to say I was there. You just don't see this many stars in one place in a single lifetime, unless you were around for Woodstock. (I wasn't, by a long shot.)
     To begin at the beginning, these guys are heroes.

     Randy Owen, Teddy Gentry and Jeff Cook comprise one of the most influential bands in country music history. Fort Payne's biggest success story started out as "Wildcountry" in 1972. You know them as Alabama. They've sold well over 73 million records and have a secure place in the Country Music Hall of Fame. Crossing over onto the pop charts before it was cool, they had thirty number one hits. And as we all sang along at the conclusion of the event at the Birmingham Jefferson Convention Center, their home's in Alabama, no matter where they lay their heads. Imagine thirteen thousand voices joining them, as well as all the stars you saw listed on the poster.

     It was pretty sweet.

     The legendary Blind Boys of Alabama opened the show with "Amazing Grace" sung to the tune of "House of the Rising Sun". If you've not experienced this, check it out here. As Jimmy Carter, leader of the Blind Boys said, "When the storm hit Alabama, it knocked us to our knees, but it didn’t knock us out. Alabama will rise again."

     That pretty much set the tone for the evening. There are some things you just don't see or hear every day, like the full version of "Dixie" played on the flute. Taylor Hicks incorporated that into his terrific song "Nineteen" and you can bet it went over well with the crowd.

The Blind Boys of Alabama

 Alabama debuted a new single to benefit the cause: "Raising Alabama".

Bo Bice did a fantastic "Sweet Home Alabama".

Ashton Shepherd

Darius Rucker, fka Hootie

David Nail was amazing.

Dierks Bentley, just as good as when I met him in '09.

Montgomery Gentry . . . "This Is My Town".

Jake Owen

One of three Idol alums, Kellie Pickler

Little Big Town rocked the house with "Boondocks".

Luke Bryan shook it for everyone. Sorry my photo does not do him justice.

Superstar Martina McBride

Sheryl Crow sang "If It Makes You Happy"

Taylor Hicks. I had forgotten just how wonderful an entertainer he is.

Whoopi Goldberg dropped by in a recorded message . . .

. . . as did Birmingham native Condoleeza Rice.

Rodney Atkins gave advice on "when you're going through hell".

Sara Evans

There is simply no one in the world like Brad Paisley.

 Water

This is country music.

Brad Paisley and Alabama performing "Old Alabama"

The grand finale: "My Home's in Alabama" performed by the entire cast and an enthusiastic audience

     As Randy Owen promised, this is only the first fundraising effort planned by the country music community. An auction is scheduled, and will include two tickets for a University of Alabama home football game in the box of Terry Saban (wife of coach Nick Saban); concert tickets for Martina McBride and Alan Jackson plus meet-and-greets with each, a guitar autographed by Jennifer Nettles and Kristian Bush of Sugarland, a guitar autographed by all the Bama Rising artists including the Alabama band, Brad Paisley, Sheryl Crow, Sara Evans, the Blind Boys of Alabama and Dierks Bentley, and a football autographed by former Alabama stars Mark Ingram, Julio Jones and Marcell Dareus. You can bet there will be more incredible stuff. Visit Charitybuzz for more information.

     Like the song says, "I believe there are angels among us, sent down to us from somewhere up above
                                   They come to you and me in our darkest hours
                                   To show us how to live, to teach us how to give
                                   To guide us with the light of love."

 
     I saw it in action last night.

Love from Delta.