I Lived in Town…A Sunday on Cane River Story

This is the story of every Sunday of my childhood, told from my little girl memories

 

I lived in town.  Even though I was just as Creole and Cane River as the other kids I still lived in town.  I hated it, all the good stuff happened down the river and I was nine years old and wanted to live down there too.  But at least I had my Sundays.  Daddy and I went to church on Saturday afternoons at 4:00 in town.  That’s when Mama took her nap and I had to be quiet. I hated that too, I wanted to be loud so Daddy decided that was a good time for us to go to church.  On Sunday mornings though we went down the river to Grandmas house.   He would time it just right to get there after she came home from church.  My grandma was a Christian Mother at St. Augustine Catholic Church and she never missed mass.

So here it was Sunday morning and I’m hopping around like a pogo stick because he’s taking forever as usual and I’m ready to go.  I already know there’s going to be something good to eat and I’m ready!  We get in Daddy’s old car with the front seat that seemed like it was a mile long.  I would have some kind of current favorite baby doll or book or something to go show off and my hair was brushed into tight braided pigtails and my face was clean. Off we go riding, we would go the back way and I liked that because there was more to see.  I’m all over the front seat looking out the windows and knowing every tree, house and bush that was going to come next.  The good part of the trip started at the bridge at Point Place. Daddy would slow way down to make that sharp right turn onto the bridge and the sharp left off of it on Hwy 494. The house at the end of the bridge looked like a gingerbread house and it had three stories and a big white fence around it.  I would daydream every time about being a princess trapped on that magical third floor. It looked over Cane River and had massive oak trees perfect for climbing and hiding in.  When I got a little bigger they made a movie there called Man in the Moon and I felt like I was able to share my magical gingerbread house.

 

Then we pass Cherokee Plantation on the right and that means we’re almost at Natchez.  Cherokee has a long, long driveway with trees planted on either side all the way down and it’s surrounded by acres of cotton fields. The house is hard to see but that long tree lined driveway is always so pretty especially in Spring like now when there’s flowers on the trees.  We drive through Natchez and pass acres and acres of cotton just planted or soybean or corn and I try to count the rows real fast while we’re driving.  Daddy says, “You see way back there that’s Marie Therese’ house back there you can just see the roof” and I say uh-huh and keep looking because I don’t realize then how important this is to me later. We go on to the big curve in the road where Oakland plantation is and that old gas station with the funny gas pump and big signs.  This is where we catch up with the river and ride alongside her for awhile.  Shell Beach bridge is on the right and people are always there putting their boats and jet skis in the water to go ride the Cane on a Sunday afternoon.  On the left are the slave quarters at Oakland and they look so sad and lonely sitting in that big open field but we leave them and the river behind and keep going. We soon get to the turn at Hwy 484 and I get on my knees to look out the window because this is where it gets good.

That first turn onto Hwy 484 is perfectly tree lined by big pecan trees it’s like driving through a tunnel of trees.  Everything is untouched here, it’s green and natural and springtime and I don’t realize how important and rare this is until I get older.  We slow way down and make the first big curve where we meet the river again.  Daddy drives slow on this part this is where he grew up at and he knows everybody so we slow down and toot the horn and wave at people sitting on the porch or working in the yard.  My Daddy waves with just one finger in the air he’s so cool.  Sometimes we stop in the middle of the road and Daddy talks to somebody.  I get smothered with hugs and kisses and how big I’ve got and they call me his sidekick that makes me feel big.  We go a little farther and we get to the Carroll Jones house and I cross my fingers and toes that the peacocks will be in the front yard and I’ll see their big fan of feathers and all the bright pretty colors.  I always beg to stop but Daddy says they’re mean but he slows down and I’m hanging out the window trying to see.  He pulls me in by my leg and we keep riding.  The road is long and curvy houses on the right and the river on the left. Trees heavy with pecans are everywhere and there are people outside everywhere.  We toot the horn and wave some more and I look out at the fields and houses and people and I get that good happy feeling I only get down the river.

 

Almost to Grandmas house the road curves some more the river is still with us and I know we’re getting close.  Daddy slows down Woods Hall is on the left.  A long white wooden building with a sign on it that says “The Friendly Place”, my Uncle Al’s trailer is right next door and his mama lives across the road. We slow down and turn into Grandmas driveway it’s a white rock driveway back to her little white house that looks like every house I’ve ever drawn.  It has a front porch with a blue floor and ceiling and two front doors into the house.  There are plants all over the porch in pots and jars and her bottle garden surrounds the front porch.  In front of the porch is her flower garden, the most beautiful on Cane River, it’s surrounded by a perfect white picket fence with a little gate to go in.  She has the biggest roses anyone has ever seen and there’s bees buzzing around all the other flowers, calla lilies, daisies, tulips and tons more.  We stop and I jump out I have to use two hands to close the door because its so heavy and I run to the back door climb the two steps and go in. Grandma is always doing something and its Sunday so I know she’s in the kitchen.  I run in and she gives me a big hug and lots of kisses and gives me a good look over.  She smells like incense from church, and her shampoo and whatever she’s cooking.  She seems so tall and her long long white hair is wound in a tight bun.  She has on her everyday dress her white dress from church she’s already took off and hung up. It’s just Grandma here, my Grandfather, Para Mickey he died before I was born but we talk about him a lot. Daddy comes in and they start talking as usual, boring big people stuff and I wander around touching things and generally being in the way.   I have to wait for dinner to be ready and they send me off outside to play.  I run around in the garden and me and my baby dolls have adventures outside.  I jump off the porch and run around and roll in the grass and look at the sun and hope no one catches me getting dirty.  Finally Grandma calls me to come in, I’m hot and go straight to the water pail to get some water.  In the kitchen she has a small wooden stand with a old metal pail with the drinking water in it.  She has a well and all the drinking and cooking water comes from it.  There’s a dipper in the pail and I dip it in and take a long drink.  The water is always cold and fresh and tastes better than at my house.  It’s almost empty and she tells me to go fill it.  I give my Daddy the eye that means come with me and he does.  I hop around swinging the pail and we walk out to the well and Daddy slides the cover off. I know that I am never allowed to play on or near the well because it’s deep and I could fall on.  There’s a long chain with a pail on the end and Daddy lets me let the pail down, down deep in the well he shows me how to dip the chain so it fills with water and he helps me pull it back up.  We pour the water into the water pail and he covers the well back up and we go back inside.

It’s finally time to eat and we wash our hands and sit down.  My plate has baked ham, green beans, rice dressing, perfectly browned and buttered rolls and my favorite baked macaroni and cheese with just the right amount of black pepper on it.  Yum, I eat until I’m totally stuffed and they sit there and talk and talk and then it’s time for coffee and dessert.  I help clear the table and serve the coffee but I really think I’m the only one that thinks I’m helping.   I ask to go next door to Aunt Vera’s and soon as they say yes I’m out the door.  Aunt Vera and Uncle Bill live next door.  Uncle Bill is Grandmas brother and he’s tall like a giant I love going over there mostly because Aunt Vera always has yellow cake with chocolate icing my favorite.  I run through the yard and knock on the patio door while opening it all at the same time.  More hugs and kisses from Aunt Vera, Uncle Bill and whoever is over visiting they just got finished with dinner too and as always I’m just in time for dessert.  I listen to them talk for awhile and see what bit of news I can pick up.  They ask about Mama and Daddy and my sister and how is school.  I sit on Uncle Bill’s lap and eat another piece of cake from Aunt Vera then give some hugs and kisses and I’m off to my next house.

I tear across the yard a hundred miles an hour to Aunt S’coons house I know she’ll be sitting on her porch in her rocking chair.  I climb on her lap and she gives me more kisses and hugs and pulls on my pigtails and we talk.  She has the best steps ever for jumping and I run to get my dolls and play on her steps my long skinny brown legs swinging and we talk and wave at people passing by.   I know she’s got a piece of candy for me in her apron pocket and after awhile she pulls it out and gives it to me.

 

Daddy finally comes out the house, when I went to get my dolls, he and Grandma were sitting in the living room stringing dried red peppers.  She has a big thick needle and long coarse thread and she strings those peppers and tacks them right to the ceiling.  They holler at me soon as I ran in “Don’t touch the peppers!” because they’re so hot.  I was in and out super fast though.  Daddy is walking across the road to Uncle Al’s trailer.  I run and grab his hand and walk with him.  Uncle Al’s trailer has the biggest porch ever and it goes right over the river.  You can sit on the porch and fish and everything.  He cuts hair in a real barbers chair right there on the porch looking over the river but its Sunday and no customers today.  I run up and tackle him and he says “Hey there my baby!” in his big loud Uncle Al voice and I laugh and he squeezes me tight.  I run around the porch and he finally baits a pole for me and I settle in.  He and Daddy pop open a couple cans of beer and talk and laugh and lie and more people stop by. Somebody has a guitar and starts playing and singing and Uncle Al plays his keyboard and halfway through the songs someone always starts laughing and tells a funny story about what they did when they were young.  No one thinks I’m listening but I am.  This is the best part of the day.  My daddy and my Uncle Al and their friends drinking beer, singing and laughing talking about how things used to be on this old Cane River.  The dances at Woods, the cars they had and the women they dated.  They talk about working in the fields and taking off as teenagers to Chicago and the band they had and the clubs they played in.  They talk about fishing and friends they haven’t seen and my eyes start getting droopy. Daddy says, “C’mon Pookie Dook lets go home.”.

We go back to Grandma’s and I get a whole weeks worth of hugs and kisses and she sends home dinner for Mama and dessert for Daddy.  He packs up all my stuff and we get in the car to go home.  I never remember those rides home.  I would stretch out on the front seat with my dirty feet in Daddys lap looking up and out the window at those big pecan and magnolia trees whizzing by shading my face and my eyes would get heavier and heavier and finally close.  Another Sunday on the Cane over but I know more to come.

Those river rides of seeing family and friends getting hugs and kisses were all my education. Learning about the richness and uniqueness of what I was and where I came from.  I knew how important each tree and house and person was.  I learned their stories, their families, our ancestors. I learned my definition and it settled so deep inside me I never lost it.  I know some don’t understand how important this river is to me and the stories and history that reside firmly in its waters but it is.  This is my story, my Cane River Sundays with my Metoyer grandmother and family.  Knowing exactly who I was and exactly where I came from was the greatest gift ever given to me.