In years past, we have never been a family that stayed at hotels when visiting family, even when it came to our first few family reunions. You would drop by the house, set your bags on the floor, and it was back out the door to see others who lived in that particular city. Once the visiting was done and it was time to lay one’s head, it was catch as catch can – first come, first served. All who were not lucky enough to find a bed or sofa, grabbed a blanket and caught a snooze on the living room floor. Never a complaint to be heard.
Today’s generation, in my family, has been spoiled by the modern day conveniences of hotels and motels. It shows no more evidently than when we all sit down to Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, when there are out of town guests. Not only is there no place to sleep, but there is also no room to sit at the dining room table, with our big family. Inevitably, one young’un would have to ask the proverbial question “Where am I supposed to sit?” All of the old heads would give him/her the side-eye, awaiting the well-deserved quip from either my mother or one of her sisters: “Sit on your fist and re’r back on your thumb.” Now, first off, “re’r” means “rear”, as in lean. Secondly, it is basically an impossible task to accomplish, and, no – you should not try that. That was of no consequence. It simply means “Just find a corner somewhere and stop worrying me”.
A belt. An ironing cord. The back of one’s hand. A switch. Those are a few of the things things with which we were disciplined. That was in the days before that old “touchy-feely” sh*t came into play. That was in the days when there was no such thing as “calling 911 if your parents put their hands on you” nonsense. And long before the days of the infamous “time out”. Time out? I think that the back of a hand was one of the worst whoopings that one could receive. You probably think that you know what it means to be “b*tch-slapped”, but you have no idea of the meaning of the word unless you’ve been hit upside the head by a parent’s hand. Very humiliating. As humiliating and demeaning as physical beatings can be, when I say that I am all the better for it, I really do mean it. I look back on my graduating class of 200 students, and remember that because of no home-training, about 50 went to the armed services with that being the only job they could get, 50 went to jail and remain there to this day, and 50 are still working as cooks in fast food joints or diners. There, but for the grace of God, go I. The other remaining 50 of us went on to lead productive lives in our respective communities. Upon reflection, there was usually one saving grace. We were always given the chance to weasel out of a beating by heeding the warnings of “If you don’t knock it off, I will cut the blood outta you!” I think that’s pretty much self-explanatory. Peace.
copyright © 2008 freedom
freerealm@gmail.com
Photos from hometown-inn.com and coaches-choice.com, respectively.
No coresponding music today, so, enjoy the sound of “Marimba”, by Paul Hardcastle.
Old School Flava: 8/29/08
Quiz time. Did you pay attention? If not, you’re probably jumpin’ up and down cryin’ “It’s not Wednesday! Why, oh why, is he doing Old School Flava on a Friday??!!” Freedom has no schedule, no rhyme, and no reason. He just does what he does when he does it. So, on this last Friday of August, allow me to entertain you with more phrases that my Moms has laid on me through the years.
FOOD
It’s a huge mistake to walk into my mother’s kitchen while she’s cooking. Her first words are “Get outta my kitchen!” After you ignore those words and continue to try and catch a glimpse of what’s in the pots, she tosses a wet dishrag at you and repeats herself. Finally, when you can’t determine what’s cookin’, you ask. Her reply? “Daddy’s old britches”. That means that she has peeked into the refrig and gathered up whatever has been left from the previous few nights and came up with one of her creations. It basically means olio, stew, soup – anything that does not require starting from scratch. There’s an underlying statement there, as well: “None of your business!” Now, you casually stroll outta her kitchen, no wiser than the moment that you ventured in, moments of time that will never be retrieved.
GENERAL
Ever try to help someone out and end up causing more confusion than anything else? I’m the kind of person that just hates it when someone says “You could probably . . . “ I don’t take too kindly to advice unless it is solicited. Give me a job, back off, and let me do it. If I need assistance, I’ll ask for it. Otherwise, let me do what it is that you asked me to do. Moms has an answer for that one: “Don’t help me, help the bear”. That means “I don’t need your help, thank you”. Now, I have no idea why the bear needs help, or why I should help him at all, but, I guess it is what it is.
Sometimes, things are just “over the top”. I mean, plain old you-done-outdone-yourself-this-time over the top. This particular phrase usually refers to food or beverages, but, can also be used for fashion, hairdo’s and just about everything, but, is meant specifically for food and beverages: “It’s enough to make you wanna smack your mammy down!”. That’s definitely “mammy”, as “mommy” just won’t work here. The statement exudes sassiness. It alludes to the idea that something has got to be awfully good in order to make you slap your mother. Even more so to make you wanna slap her down.
I’ll be back with lots more “down home” phrases that my Moms has laid on me. It’s called “Old School Flava”, and it could be on a Wednesday, it could be on Sunday, it could be on any day of the week that catches my fancy. That’s not a bad thing, though. Just think about it: if I said it was gonna be a a particular day every week and you came back on that day and it wasn’t here, you’d be real upset with freedom. We wouldn’t want that, now would we? See you next time.
copyright © 2008 freedom
freerealm@gmail.com