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| The following is from "Along the RFD" by Rose Budd Stevens, published in 1987, by the University Press of Mississippi. The book is a collection of reminiscences about Mrs. Stevens' childhood on her family's farm, Shady Rest, in southwest Mississippi. The stories were originally published as newspaper columns, beginning in the 1940's. I hope you enjoy Mrs. Stevens' recollections as much as I do. And, as she always said at the end of her newspaper columns. . . . ."Sweetly be." Nancy ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Unusual Visitor at Shady Rest Can you recall the most exciting day of your life? How well I recall the day when my whole family, including my Grandmother Budd and my Aunt Phleta, and every tenant on Shady Rest, went away, leaving my brother's wife, Marianna, and me to keep the home fires tended. After weeks of patient doctoring and constant care to keep me from scratching a case of poison oak, I was still a sight. It was very nearly solid all over my chubby 9 year old body. So embarrassed was Mama over the looks of me, that I was sent to play below the dipping vat whenever company came. Marianna was my constant companion, because she had developed a case of it, too; which is how the two of us came to be the only members of the family who didn't get to go to the circus that had come to Gloster on that sunny day in August. Just at daylight, after much getting ready, buggy, surrey and wagons rolled toward town to take Shady Rest folks to the Haggenback Circus. Picnic lunches were taken, folding tin cups were carried to drink free lemonade from huge barrels set up under spreading oak and magnolia trees. Shady Rest people were going to see humpy camels, flying ladies, the side show's rubber man---who, by the way, was third cousin to one of Shady Rest's tenants. Before the dust of the folks leaving had settled, Marianna and I were beginning our breakfast of the lunch Mama had left us---with strict instructions not to touch it until dinnertime. Stuffed eggs, chicken pie, potato salad, fried chicken, ribbon cake and cheese pie sure tasted good at 7 a.m. We even made a quick cob fire and boiled some coffee, a no-no for children. Then, sleepy as old cats, we took quilts and made pallets on the shady end of the front porch behind the wisteria vine. We awoke in time for lunch and decided to make a picnic basket of tomatoes, peaches, a jar of ball sausage, soda crackers and molasses cookies. We went down to the creek, and soaked our itchy bodies in the shallows and then floated on the deep blue water. After an hour or so of enjoying the cool creek water, we ate and decided to stretch out on the bridge over the creek to dry our clothes right on our bodies. (Continued below.) |
| Needless to say, we went right to sleep. The next thing I knew, Marianna sat up and asked me if I'd heard any funny noise? A kingfisher called, a bee buzzed, a fish splashed in the pond and a beetle clicked his way along the handrail of the bridge. I heard the water beneath murmur and ripple. But I knew those sounds weren't going to satisfy Marianna. All at once, I, too, heard something---a sort of whooshing sound, a dusty sounding shuffle, a creak of leather and a soft breath of air fanned the back of my neck. Marianna let out a scream, jerked me to my feet, dragging me off and under the bridge, jabbering something about an elephant. Sure enough, I could see the timbers shake, hear the shuffle of four huge feet and hear a voice calling to us, wanting to know how far it was to Gloster, telling us that the elephant was very tame and wouldn't hurt a flea. And so she was! While the elephant enjoyed a soak in the creek, enchanting us with blowing water toward the sun, making rainbows without rain, the trainer enjoyed our leftover lunch, told us stories of his travels and about his wife who was the alligator lady in the sideshow with the circus. He gave Marianna and me a ride atop his elephant right up the middle of the road. When we arrived at our mailbox, the elephant kneeled and we scooted down right over her head. We directed the lost man and elephant to Gloster. We didn't bother to be polite and say, "we hope you make it there in time for the afternoon show." We knew better and so did he, for the sun was already going behind the tall magnolia tree in the back pasture......and anybody knew that meant three o'clock. All the folks from Shady Rest would miss out on seeing the elephant---except for Marianna and me! |
| Magnolia Memories |
| "Southerners love a good tale. They are born reciters, great memory retainers, letter exchangers.....great talkers." -- Eudora Welty |
| All of the prints on this page are Currier and Ives lithographs. |
| In the South, the breeze blows softer.....neighbors are friendlier, nosier and more talkative. Our way of thinking is different, as are our ways of seeing, laughing, singing, eating, meeting and parting. Nothing about us is quite the same as in the country to the north and west. What we carry in our memories is different, too, and that may explain everything else. -- Charles Kuralt, "Southerners: Portrait of a People" |
| The South is America. The South is what we started out with in this bizarre, slightly troubling, basically wonderful country---fun, danger, friendliness, energy, enthusiasm and brave, crazy, tough people." -- P. J. O'Rourke |
| Southerners have a genius for psychological alchemy.....if something intolerable simply cannot be changed, driven away or shot, we will not only tolerate it, but take pride in it as well. -- Florence King |
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| As every Southerner knows, dreams, if they're any good at all, are always a little crazy. -- Ray Charles |
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