Southern Voices

“Just take time to go home and change after Church and then come on down. Bring anything you want – something you can fix ahead of time, it doesn’t matter…and wear something comfortable, we’ll be eating outside. Don and Cindy are bringing the boat and there are floats for the kids, so be sure and bring some towels.”

That’s all it takes in my family for an impromptu get-together . No elaborate plans, no advance notice – just an excuse and a phone call.

This visit back home to Alabama had been one of the best ever. My sister Sue had arranged a lakehouse for us and we luxuriated in the beautiful sunrises and sunsets playing out in front of us and the almost fluid feel of the warm summer days and nights. We were no longer accustomed to the southern humidity and felt some concern it might hamper our time in this, the hottest part of the summer. This proved not to be the case at all and, in fact, I felt bathed in the warm moistness and could feel the stress roll off my body. The time had sped quickly by and here we were with only a couple of days left before we had to say good-bye. I wanted my whole family together in one place at one time.

Sue was spending the week-end with us and we had sat outside and toasted the sunset last evening while planning our duties for the morning. George was to make the food run into town for last minute perishables including fixin’s for burgers and dogs for the kids. Sue would be in charge of getting the ice and packing all the drinks well in advance so there would be plenty chilled when everyone arrived and I was in charge of the homefront. As I covered the tables and prepared for the party, I stopped several times to return the waves of passing boaters whose eyes had followed the dancing balloons through the yard and up to where I stood on the deck. I breathed deeply of the warm, sultry summer air and felt thankful for this perfect day which can be found only in Alabama and only on the Tennessee River.

George and Sue returned from their assigned duties and as I suspected, family began to arrive around 1:30 or so, arms full of steaming pots and covered bowls of mysterious food offerings. There were hugs and kisses all around, loud declarations of how much children had grown, how good everyone looked and how wonderful it was to see each other. There is nothing quite like a family reunion when the family reuniting is mine. Everybody speaks at one time with each voice becoming just an octave higher and a decibel louder as it joins in. Everyone wants to be heard and the only way to insure that is to speak loudly.

It was a typical southern feast including Limestone County hickory smoked pork barbeque, crowder peas, butter beans, baked beans, baked apples, macaroni and cheese, coleslaw, fresh sliced tomatoes, three kinds of cornbread, biscuits and a true southern delicacy few have probably ever heard of known as chocolate sop. There were cakes and cookies, fresh apple slices with some heavenly concoction of a dip, huge watermelons and the local staple, sweet tea.

As I busied myself finding just the right spot for each dish as it arrived, George fired up the barbeque and was immediately surrounded by little hungry smiling faces. I caught snippets of conversation and smiled at the familiarity of the voices I loved using the old time-honored words and phrases – young’uns, dreckly, yessir, no’mam, I declare, lawd a’mighty and many others which took me back to a slower, easier, more simple time.

I was surrounded by love, the people and faces I had seen all my life, the faces of my family, faces that I love, faces that I resemble, faces that are imprinted on my soul. At odd moments during the afternoon my eyes would rest on a single one and I would be immersed in memories we had shared. Memories of laughing and splashing together in this very river on a long ago summer day, memories of arms surrounding me making me feel loved and safe, memories of loving hands bandaging my knee and the sweet smell of talcum power as I was held close. I loved looking at them all and feeling the wave of love wash over me. I knew in my heart that at some particular moment during that day each of them in their own time would look at my face with love and see a younger, skinny, more vulnerable and needy version of me and they would smile and remember.

I looked over at Mother and could see the happiness on her face at having her three children together at the same time. It happens rarely and, as a Mother, I know how she must miss that. I went over and told her again how good her macaroni and cheese was and the butter beans were probably the best I’d ever eaten. She smiled.

After everyone had eaten their fill, the younger ones headed for the water, running off the pier and shrieking as they cannon-balled into the river – cousins holding onto floats and catching up on each others lives. A newly married nephew swimming slowly alongside his new bride as she perched high, dry and queenly on her float. A young niece carrying around her new niece and my realization that I was a great aunt. Sue sitting at the end of the pier in the sun talking to her daughter Kathleen who was in the water. Aunts, uncles, cousins, sister, brother, mother…whatever else they were to me, they were my roots, my heritage.

Far too soon it was time for good-byes and as we walked them separately back to their cars we insisted they take home leftovers and paused to snap pictures. We stole a few more hugs as we assured them we would keep in touch and yes, we would come back soon. Cars pulled away amid many arms waving from many windows and George and I waving back from the drive. I turned back to see only two half deflated forlorn balloons valiantly attempting to keep up the party atmosphere. George had sent the the others along bobbing happily in the backs of cars and vans held in the hands of tired and sleepy little ones.

I returned to the deck and looked out over the water as daylight began to fade. The quiet now was far more deafening than the medley of voices had been and I felt sadness settle in, but also I felt grateful that we had all been together and for the new memories we had made.

The best moment of the day happened as I stood talking with my Uncle David and his sister, Aunt Jesse. My entire family loves gospel singing and as we talked, my aunt suddenly said “Shall we sing?” and with no further adieu the three of us burst into a rousing rendition of Old Rugged Cross. On cue, all of the conversations around us ceased and one by one the voices joined in the singing. I am so thankful that George stood silently on the sidelines with the video camera rolling. Yes, that was the best moment.

George and Sue joined me on the deck and we watched the birds come in for their evening meal as darkness fell over the river. I closed my eyes and heard the voices still.