Memories….with Mama Mac

Memories come and memories go, but true memories last a lifetime. They go back as far as we can remember to a time where we put a face, a description and a feeling to it; other memories are those you know in your spirit that happened and you can somewhat describe it, yet no one can verify it for you. For instance, I remember…I was still in diapers, sitting in a play pen and a woman with dark hair was taking clothes off the clothes line, such as towels and diapers, and tossing them on me as I played. I remember the laughter in the air and the clean smell of the freshly laundered clothes all around me. Yet when I asked my mother, thinking all along it was her, she did not remember any such incident. Now that I know it wasn’t my mother, I have come to believe it must have been my Grandmother Doris during one of those special times I spent with her and my Grandpa Pone. Strangely enough when I smell that scent I am reminded of the memory….a memory without a face; only dark hair and laughter.

And then there was my Mama Mac, my father’s mother. Her true name was Inez Pearl McCowan McFarland but everyone called her Mama Mac.  Although it was rare, I use to love to spend the night at her house and sleep on her fresh clean sheets. What a treat that was. I remember the crispness of Mama Mac’s sheets…the special hand embroidered pillow cases and the matching embroidered facing of the top sheet. Ya’ll my grandmother ironed her sheets and most likely used a light starch, they were so crisp and taunt you could bounce a coin off of them. When you crawled into the bed they were cool to touch and smelled absolutely remarkable. I felt like royalty when I would get into the bed. Although it was her bed, we never slept together. I had it all to myself….just me and my little imagination.  I think she must have heard vicious stories about me and the fact that I slept all over the bed. My mother use to say I kicked like a mule. So Mama Mac would go in the back bedroom and sleep on the extra twin bed in the room with Daddy Humpy.

But just before bedtime I would always take a bath in her ‘claw tub’; another unique experience. I would pretend like I was Cleopatra…Royalty…being treated like a Queen. My grandmother would put bubble bath in the tub for me and the bubbles would come up pass my chin. In those old claw tubs there is no overflow drain under the faucet so you could fill the tub as deep as you wanted, or in my case, as high as your head would allow and still be able to breathe and of course scoot down and recline against its sloping back. I then visualized maidens around me fanning me with large feathered fans. Let me tell you…that was the life as far as I was concerned. Enjoying the relaxation and the smoothness of the bubbles against my skin while living my make believe dream. Once I was done, I put on my royalty nightwear, kissed my grandparents goodnight…and off to bed I would go to engulf myself with the aroma of those special sheets that I adored so. Life was good let me tell you.

In the mornings I would wake up to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and sausage patties cooking in the iron skillet. It smelled so delightful. When I would arrive at the table Mama Mac would have a spread of food fit for a King; grits, scrambled eggs, sausage patties, homemade biscuits, jams and red eye gravy. I actually never ate the red eye gravy…the sound of it just wasn’t the least bit appealing to me and besides Daddy Humpy told me…”It’s what the cowboys ate”…and they made it with left over coffee. Great, that did it for me….I surely wasn’t a cowboy! I was Cleopatra. Didn’t he know that? I was certain, Cleopatra didn’t eat cowboy food.

We always ate out of her pink, blue, and yellow tiny flowered dishes with some kind of decorative cut edge a gold band outlining the plate. I thought they were absolutely beautiful. In fact, I liked them so well that when I got older I bought a set just like hers off the side of the road at a dish barn in North Carolina. It was one of those moments when you are driving by and all of a sudden have to hit the brakes and make an immediate turn. I knew without a doubt the dishes that caught my eye were just like my grandmothers. In fact, she probably bought them from a road side dish barn during her travels. I was pleasantly surprised to find the dishes actually had a name, “Hazel”.  Oh my how I loved those dishes…it brought back so many memories! Years after her passing, my aunt gave me the remaining pieces of Mama Mac’s original set. And today if I see a matching piece at an antique store I will pick it up and add it to our two combined sets.

Then there were Mama Mac’s special pies. She was certainly a great cook….real southern cooking. I remember her homemade pies; especially her chocolate cream pie… piled high with meringue and browned oh so lightly. She would make her pies right from scratch….crust and all. Once they were done she would place them on a large bath towel spread out over the washing machine to cool. The washing machine was located on the screened back porch just off from the kitchen. I would have to look for a reason to go on her back porch where I knew those pies were just screaming for attention. I loved to breathe in the aroma of those pies…and all the time I’m sure Mama Mac knew how eager I was to have a pie of one of her delicious pies. I could hardly wait for the moment she would ask me if I wanted a slice. And I was always anxious to say, “Yes Mam! I want the chocolate pie!” …it was my absolute favorite. However it’s too bad no one ever got a copy of her recipe for my favorite pie, but of course it was most likely… a pinch of this and a pinch of that; nothing ever measured or written down. So today any time I see a chocolate cream pie that even resembles my grandmothers I have to try a piece. And so far to my disappointment I have never found one that holds the candle to Mama Mac’s chocolate cream pie. I am beginning to believe, it’s not just the chocolate pie, it’s the love that went into it …and the special memories I have of those precious moments with my grandmother.

Today I have Mama Mac’s old China displayed in my China Cabinet right along with those old everyday dishes she used and I must say….I would take those everyday dishes and the memories that come back to my mind over any piece of china.  You see, most of us put our China up and never use it, but the everyday dishes are used over and over and touched with a love that can never be replaced. Just like those special times with my grandmother …the smell of her sheets …the taste of her chocolate cream pies … her smile…her love….it’s all priceless. I bet she never knew I felt like ‘Royalty’ when I spent those special times with her. She never knew the memories she was creating for my heart. To this day …I love and miss her so very much. I love you Mama Mac!

This article is dedicated to the memory of: Inez Pearl McCowan-McFarland “Mama Mac” (Jan 8, 1910 to Dec 29, 1973), my grandmother.

I offer my services to write memoirs and life stories of you and your loved ones. It’s as simple as sitting on a front porch sharing story after story about your life and your loved ones as you relax in a rocking chair, chattering away about what you know best….your loved ones.

Please continue to read my blog  http://rockingchairchatter.com and be sure to keep a watch for my new website  http://www.myfrontporchfriends.com/ as we continue to write our stories.

Enjoyed the chat,

Lorraine

Lorraine McFarland lives in Plant City, Florida. She is a professional writer specializing in memoirs, life story writing, and capturing memories of your loved ones.

Copyright, April 2011 by Lorraine McFarland. The author retains sole copyright to her contributions to this article.

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