Will Work For Food

Because my grandmother lived four houses up from us, it made it easy for her to call and ask for help. She would call and say, "Estelle, I have just picked a bushel of corn or whatever she had picked, and I need help putting it up."  Momma would hang up and grumble that she had her own work to do.  However, she would stop everything she was doing and go help granny. What made matters worse was that I always got pulled into the helping part. I am a country girl and I love the country, but I wanted no part of preserving food. I grumbled more than momma did about it.  We usually sat outside under the shade trees, on green and white metal chairs. We snapped, shucked, and peeled something every day during harvest season. My aunts and cousins would sometimes come and join in on the fun, if you wanted to call it that. My momma's sisters would reminisce about working on the farm and preserving food when they were growing up. They told funny things they had done to each other and laugh until they would spill their peas. I didn't see what was so funny about having sore thumbs from shelling a bushel of peas.  I was young and felt I had better things to do. If I ever voiced this opinion to my momma she would say, "You like to eat don't you?" “Yes ma’am,” I replied. “Then get to work,” she would say. Later in life I would see men holding up signs saying, will work for food. I wish they had met my momma. She would have showed them how to work for their food.  I would pick up my veggies and get to work snappin', stringin', shuckin', shellin' or peelin'.  Most of my childhood summers were spent on planting, harvesting, and preserving food. Momma knows I don’t like doing any of this. I have asked her very kindly not to ask me to join in on the preserving party. She has been doing good and has not including me until now.

I was on my way to Starbucks when my phone rang," Phyllis, you have got to help me. I've got myself in a mess,” momma's voice called out to me in a panic.  “What on earth is wrong Momma?” I called back with my heart pounding like I had aready drank an expresso. My imagination ran wild with what could be wrong. I know she gets turned around in parking lots and forgets where the car is but, she usually figures it out in just under ten minutes. Was she lost or had she lost something. She stammered around on her words a little bit because she was afraid to tell me. In southern term’s she was ‘beatin’ around the bush’. "Tell me what you have done Momma," I ask again. “Well, I went to farmer Doyle's today to pick up a bushel of beans. Honest to goodness Phyllis, all I wanted was a bushel,” she began pleading her case. “Do you know what he did Phyllis?” She said in a kind of upset tone but not really being so. “What did he do momma?” I said, bracing myself. “He gave me two bushel of beans and a bushel of okra. Now what am I going to do with it?” I start thinking of all the people I could give it to and spouted off names as fast as I could all while trying to hold back the tremble I felt in my voice. “No, she said I don't want to give it away.”  Here it comes… “I thought WE could work together and fix it all up for the freezer,” she finally said. I began to practice my breathing technic that helps me gain control of myself in these type situations. "I can't help it,” she said in a pleading tone. “I didn't ask for it. He gave it to me. What's worse, I have used all my freezer space up. You are going to have to put it in yours." She got me... She did it again.

Momma knows I don't want to play Pioneer woman any more but, she still wants me to preserve. I told her I would help and would be over in the morning to get started. I hung up and thought of all of the things I needed to be doing and started grumbling. Then it occurred to me, it is really not so much about preserving food as much as it is about preserving family and community. You see momma loves to can, preserve and freeze everything in sight. She has lived in a time that had it not been for what she had preserved, she would have starved. Momma also knows how important it is to preserve the life we have with one another as a family, community and country. She knows things can go bad in a hurry if they are not preserved. We think we are fine on our own, but we really need each other. She knows if you don't work for it, it will all waste away.  Sometimes I forget the great heritage I have. Momma figured out a way to get me back on the assembly line. She is creative in her schemes.  I believe I will call my two daughters today and telling them I have got into a mess. I will use my best panic tone. I am going to tell them we have to go help granny who has got us all in a mess. If they start fussin' I will ask them if they like to eat. They will say “yes ma’me”.  I will tell them, “Then get to work”. It is high time for them to learn how to preserve.  Let’s make some snappin’, stringin’, shuckin’, pea shellin’ memories of our own.

 Thank you for teaching me how to work for my food momma.  I had a pot full of peas for dinner last night. Oh, they were so good. I appreciated them so much more because I had shelled them with my own hands.

Just sayin’

Phyllis Westland