Southern Charm?

    Although I have spent most of my life in Georgia,many of my earliest memories are from the farming country of North Florida.Both sides of my family have a long history in Suwanne and Lafayette counties.In my early years I spent most of my time as assistant(maybe nusaince)to my Uncle Roy.He was actually my great uncle.Details....I remember riding in his Dodge Ram.He always drove a Dodge.The truck always had a mixture of aromas.The odiforous menu consisted of hand-rolled Raleighs,cured tobacco,hog feed,hog and cow crap,hay,R.C. colas with peanuts and spilt Grape Nehis(mine).Fond memories.No wonder I enjoy so many different foods.Confusion of the senses I guess.I remember Uncle Roy in his ever present baggy work jeans and his not so many different colored tee-shirts,always the ones with a pocket for the Raleighs.He always had a dark leathery complexion.Probably because of the Indian blood and a whole lot of sun.Dark Brilcream infused hair,even in the older days,completed the look.Quintessential farmer.
       Now as the assistant (nusaince) to the boss,I spent most of my time riding shotgun,unless the real assistant pushed me out of the way and proclaimed "my seat".I need to explain here.Truthfully I was the Part-time assistant to the assistant to the boss man.My Uncle Tony was full-time.Though Tony was several years older than I,due to complications at birth he remains childlike to this day.Sweet,strong as hell big old kid.God love him he did not like me in his seat.So I rode in the middle or in the back when Tony was on the scene.Now as a growing boy surrounded by pickup trucks,tractors and other farm stuff,"I wanted to drive."Therein lies a huge problem.All the Farmalls,Fords and John Deere tractors belonged to Tony.According to him anyway.So if I wanted to drive anything I had to beat Tony to the drivers seat crank and go before I was physically removed.Physical ejection from driver seats happened more often than not.Did I mention how strong Uncle Tony was?"My tractor"was the most common phrase I heard as I stuggled to keep my seat.Now at nine or ten years old I was not a great driver.I remember bumping in to stuff alot.Now the Dodges were always automatics so I just aimed between the gate posts and gassed it.I knew the brake pedal would save me,if I could reach it in time.I remember hitting many an irrigation pipe in my farming career.Uncle Roy would always say "WHOA" a split second too late as I stretched to reach the brake pedal.Tractors were a different story.I knew where the throttle was,same place as the blinker on the truck. hmmm...Now the trouble begins.I remember one time I managed to keep my seat on one of the older Farmalls.My instuctions were to park it under the shed on the end of the hay barn.Well I throttled up aimed the tractor in the general direction of the shed and dumped the clutch.For some reason I thought throttling down would stop the tractor.Not.I didn't at that time understand the two brake pedal theory on tractors.Luckily Uncles Roy and Tony screamed "Whoa" in time for me to panic and stomp every pedal I could see.I turned it off.Tony told me to "move,My tractor",as he expertly pulled the tractor into the shed.Disaster avoided.Roy kinda gave me a knowing smile.From then on I drove only the Dodge solo.
         Uncle Roy's main crop was tobacco.So one of my favorite smells is that of a tobacco barn full of cured tobacco.Now when I was young and the assistant to the assistant to the boss,(kinda Dwight Schrute-like)the main job I could do was help take the cured tobacco from the barns and put it in huge burlap sheets.We would load trucks and trailers with bunches of sheets.Then go to the tobacco auction in Live Oak or Madison.I'm telling you the smell of those huge warehouses with tons of cured tobacco and the sounds of the auctioneers was something for a "city boy" to behold.We would spend hours in those warehouses.I would watch the buyers and marvel at the whole experience.
         Now these memories are important to me.Some of you may not get it.We are not all from farming families.We do not all share in the heritage of Southern Charm.
          Now let me tell you about Granny Bell.Hattie was the mother to uncle Roy and my grandmother Mary.This is kinda cool.She was my great grandmother and when she died in 1973 she was the last Civil War widow in the state of Florida.Now she was married to William Bell who fought for the Southern Cause
in the Battle of Olustee(Ocean Pond).If you think about it the math seems all wrong.Hattie was 40 some odd years younger than Granddaddy Bell.We are talking old South now,so it probably wasn't that uncommon.Florida as well as the rest of the south lost alot of men in the war.Anyway,William fathered his youngest child when he was in his eighties.No kidding.I hope I got me some of that gene...Ha.
        Okay so throughout my early adventures on the farm who do you think made lunch for us every day?Hattie did.I'm not talking sandwiches either.I'm talking southern home cooking.Collard greens and stuff.I didn't like all of it back then,but I wish I could eat one of her meals now.I remember once when I tried chewing tobacco for the first time,I was walking down the railroad tracks looking for a missing cow.I swallowed too much juice and those railroad tracks started to spin.I managed to make it to the stack of hay on the back of Roy's Dodge.Let the regurgitation begin.Well Tony took me to Hattie who always had a dip of snuff in her mouth.(didn't help my condition one iota).She sat me in  Roy's recliner next to hers and put a wet cloth on my forehead (what a wuss),and we watched soaps until Mom came to get Tony and I.Yes I was in trouble,on top of feeling like crud.
         Now remember,Hattie was old south.There was a man who worked for Roy named Willie.Willie lived in a little shack on the edge of the farm.I spent a lot of time helping Willie also.He was really Roy's main go to guy.He pretty much ran the crews in the fields and at the barns.Whichever was being done,depending on the time of year.So I guess when I was in town I was truly the Third Assistant(Dwight Schrute as hell).I'm not sure when because I was there from a very early age,but I noticed that Willie never came into Granny Bell's house.On one occasion I remember sitting down to lunch.I saw Granny Bell pass a plate and a glass of oh so sweet tea out the screen door to Willie.I asked why don't Willie come in here?Well the explanation I got from Granny Bell did not really satisfy my innocent sensibilities back then.I do understand more now.All I know is that back then I wanted to cry.I was devastated,though it didn't seem to bother Willie.I remember I gobbled down my meal and took my glass of oh so sweet tea outside and sat on the edge of the porch dangling my feet while Willie ate.Now Granny Bell's explanation was not malicious in any way.It was just the way things were.Well Willie stayed on the farm for years.He stayed on well after Hattie died.Eventually he was let go for stealing tools or something like that.Hmmm maybe that little old lady knew more about the way things are than I or anybody in today's society will ever admit.
         Anyway right or wrong that was the way things were.No matter what my feelings are on the subject I still have a whole lot of wonderful memories of working on the farm as Third assistant (part-time) to the Boss Man.Well that is a small part of my memories of family back in the old days.Our history like most Americans goes way back.I think American's history should go way back.Otherwise it's just not American.So whatever antiquated beliefs I have been exposed to, disagreeable or not,all of them helped establish a little bit of my "Southern Charm".