Watermelon Days and Firefly Nights: Heartwarming Scenes from Small Town Life (26 page)

In her seventy-third year, Granny Opal’s legs got bad, and she found it difficult to get around. She continued to go to
church once a week, but that was about all. Rocky’s mother brought her groceries. His dad took her to the doctor when she needed to go.

Soon after Thanksgiving that year, Granny Opal began to fret about how she was going to manage Christmas.

“Let’s not worry about it,” Rocky’s mother said. “There is no need for you to be getting any of us gifts this year. Being together is all the gift that we need.”

But Granny Opal would hear none of that. Nothing would do but that she make out a list and that Rocky’s mother go and get what was on the list. “I’m going to make it easy on you, hon,” she said after giving the list some thought. “I want you to buy chocolate-covered cherries—one box for each of the neighbors and two for the preacher. And for you girls, good white slips.” Granny believed that no decent woman ever left her house without a slip; some dresses might even require two. “And since I’ve been studying on it, I think all the boys would enjoy some Old Spice.”

Rocky’s mother told Granny Opal that her ideas were excellent.

So that year on Christmas morning, in front of Granny Opal’s pleased face, the entire family, including sixteen-year-old Rocky, opened up their gifts.

“Thanks, Granny! I needed a new slip.”

“Thank you, Granny, for the Old Spice.”

The gifts went over so well that next year, Granny had Rocky’s mother buy everyone the same thing.

“Thank you, Granny!”

“Thanks, Granny!”

And so it went the next year and the next. After the fourth year of Old Spice and new slips, Rocky’s mother came up with a plan. Since none of the guys actually wore the Old Spice, and since a woman can really only use so many slips, she decided that this year everyone should put their gifts in a big box. She would then store the gifts and when Granny Opal told her to go shopping the next year, she would simply take them out of storage and wrap them up again. Granny didn’t need to know. She would still get the pleasure of seeing them open up their gifts, but there would be less waste.

What a great idea! Everyone agreed.

Everyone except for nineteen-year-old Rocky. He loved Granny Opal, and it just didn’t seem right to fool her like that. No one meant any disrespect to Granny, but he did not see it that way. No, he didn’t wear Old Spice. But no,
he wasn’t going to give it back. Granny had given it to
him, and he wanted to keep it.

And so he did.

“M
ELISSA, WHEN
I
SAW
that Rocky had almost half a dozen bottles of Old Spice in his bathroom cabinet, and when he told me about how his Granny Opal gave them
to him every year and all of the rest, well, I fell in love.
My Rocky is a sweet, sweet man.”

“You’re right. He is a good man,” Melissa said. “Is Granny Opal still alive?”

“Nope. She passed away the January after he and I got married. But you know, every year under the tree at our house, Rocky still finds a bottle of—”

“Old Spice?”

“Yep. I take one of those bottles down out of the cabinet, wrap it up, and tell him it’s from Granny Opal. He always says it’s his favorite gift.”

A
SWEET MAN WITH A STOCKPILE OF STUFF
to make him smell even sweeter. What more could a gal ask for in a man? Nothing—not one thing—if his wife, Rochelle, is at all to be believed.

Personally, I think she is.

16

A
LL THE
R
IGHT
I
NGREDIENTS

I
T WAS
A
LFRED
T
INKER
who came up with the idea of holding the first annual Ella Louise Gumbo Cook-off. Since his wife, Tiny, whose opinion he valued, thought the idea a good one, he brought it up to the Saturday morning coffee drinkers gathered at the Wild Flour Café.

Crow Buxley scratched his head. “Mayor, we’ve already got the May Okra Fest. Lots of cooking goes on then. You wanting to add something to that?”

“No, no. I’m talking about a separate event altogether. Not connected to the Okra Fest.”

“When you thinking about having it?” asked Rocky Shartle.

“First weekend in November. It’ll be cold enough so we won’t have to worry about any of the fixings going bad, but early enough so bad weather shouldn’t be much of a concern,” said the mayor. “I’m thinking we’d hold it at the park. Have everybody do their cooking over campfires. Maybe invite some of those Cajun boys up from Louisiana to play us some tunes.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” said Doyle Strickland.

“Everybody ’round here likes gumbo. Something like that ought to draw a good crowd,” said Rocky.

“I say we need some kind of community event in the fall,” said Doyle. “Not much going on once high school football’s over.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” said the mayor. “The event could be a moneymaker too. Once the judging’s been done, we could sell the gumbo by the bowl or by the quart for folks who want to take some home. I figure we’d charge enough to cover our costs plus a little. Whatever extra we make, we can donate to the city council college scholarship fund.”

“You planning on giving out prizes?” asked Rocky.

“To get folks to enter, I imagine we’ll need to. First place, second place, third, and honorable mention. Trophies, probably. Maybe some cash or a gift certificate. Which do you think?”

Trophies. Crow and Rocky and the rest of the boys agreed.

“Whole thing’d be more festive if you asked folks to decorate their campsite,” said Chief Johnson.

“You could give a prize for the best one,” said Rocky.

The mayor stood to go. “Thanks, men. You’ve been a big help. I believe come Monday, Faye Beth and I will start putting the thing together.”

Faye Beth agreed that the cook-off idea was a good one. “How about a dessert contest too? That and a craft show would be fun. And say, a square dance that night, wouldn’t that be festive? Maybe a petting zoo for the kids?” Her eyes shone as she got excited.

Elected in part because of his diplomacy, Mayor Tinker gently disagreed. “Faye Beth, those are fine ideas, but we don’t want to take away from the Okra Fest. And, you know, I’m not crazy about the idea of having a petting zoo anywhere near where there’s food being cooked. Kids these days don’t wash their hands like they should. I say we just stick with gumbo and a little music. See how it goes. We can always add to the event next year.”

“Of course. You’re right. I just get carried away,” agreed Faye Beth. “But Mayor, folks are going to expect some dessert. You think a bake sale would be too much?”

“Why, no,” he conceded. “I think a sale without a contest would be fine. You want to let all the church ladies know?”

She would.

By the end of the day, a date for the first annual Ella Louise Gumbo Cook-off had been set—the first Saturday in November. By the end of the week, Mayor Tinker had recruited a panel of judges, the identities of whom Faye Beth thought should be kept anonymous until the day of the contest.

Mayor Tinker agreed.

At the suggestion of the judges, cook-off rules were drafted. Advised by the home economist at the county Farm Extension Office, and after much discussion, Faye Beth and Mayor Tinker narrowed the list down to five rules.

1. Only in-date, store-bought, USDA-inspected meat, seafood, or poultry products may be used. No squirrel, opossum, or dove meat allowed. No Exceptions!!!
   
2. There is no official gumbo recipe. However, in keeping with Ella Louise’s status as the self-proclaimed okra capital of Texas, contestants should be advised that the official judges will look closely at the okra content of each recipe when determining the winner.
   
3. No tobacco use within three feet of the cooking pots. (Yes, this includes snuff and chewing tobacco.)
   
4. Cooks are required to wear aprons and hats.
   
5. All gumbo is to be prepared in cast-iron pots provided by the city of Ella Louise. Pots and cooking stands will be delivered to each campsite by 6:00
   A.M.
   on the morning of the cook-off.
   

With the procurement of borrowed pots and stands from the nearby town of Pearly, which held a chili cook-off every year, and with a funeral-home awning to shield the baked
goods from the weather, Faye Beth believed they had all the bases covered.

Within a week of announcing the cook-off, via posters placed at Tawny’s Quick Tan, the library, the grocery store, Lindell’s Clean-It-Quick Car Wash, and the Wild Flour Café,
Mayor Tinker had received and Faye Beth had validated
twelve gumbo-cooking teams, six from Ella Louise and six from out of town.

Of the thirty-dollar registration checks received, only Crow Buxley’s bounced.

“You want me to call him?” asked Faye Beth.

“No. Don’t embarrass the man,” said the mayor. “Crow never has been very good at math. He probably got mixed up as to what day the government deposits his check. What’s today? The second? Send it back through. It should clear if it hits the bank today.”

He was right. Crow’s check cleared just fine the second time around.

Folks all over town were excited. The ladies of the various Ella Louise churches planned to sell pies and cakes by the slice. Chief Johnson decided to cook some of his Indian fry bread and give it away for free.

“It being the same month as Thanksgiving, I thought it only fitting. Besides, fry bread will be good with gumbo. Mayor, what are you doing about rice?”

Mayor Tinker hadn’t thought of that. There had to be rice. He scratched his head. Who could he talk into cooking up a pot? He phoned Bessie Bishop, this year’s president of the Gentle Thimble Quilting Club.

Sure. The Gentle Thimbles would be happy to be in charge of rice. She would drive over to Sam’s Club and pick up a big bag. She needed to go anyway. Would fifty pounds be enough?

“Lands, yes,” said the mayor. “More than. You ladies don’t know how much I appreciate it. And yes, of course the club may set up a card table to raffle off a quilt.”

“Mayor,” asked Faye Beth two days before the big day, “have you called the portable toilet people?”

“Shoot. I knew I forgot something. Can you get ’em on the phone? Faye Beth, how many do you think we’ll need?”

Details, details. Mayor Tinker hoped he had remembered everything.