Published June 10, 2001
Summer reminds me of watermelon and peach ice cream
made in an old White Mountain hand-cranker. In the days before air conditioning,
ice-cold watermelon and ice cream were not only politically correct but widely
enjoyed.
Another feature of summertime long ago were "dinners on the ground" on
Sundays at the church.
Some explanation is due our Northern brethren. In the South, we call lunch
"dinner" and dinner "supper." And the on-the-ground part is
somewhat figurative, because there were often tables set up on the lawn of the
church grounds.
Southern women, in those days at least, were great cooks and not above being
competitive. Knowing their dish was going to be laid next to those of other
ladies, they would usually put their hearts into it. I'm not a gourmet, but I do
indeed love old-fashioned Southern cooking. None of those undercooked, crispy
veggies for me. I like my vegetables cooked well, with a piece of salt pork for
flavoring. And it was well that a hard-hitting sermon preceded the feast,
because the sin of gluttony was mighty, mighty alluring.
I'm not inviting you on a nostalgia trip. In fact, my purpose is to call
attention to Robert Reich's latest point that, despite our prosperity, most
Americans are working more and enjoying it less.
In those days (the 1940s), a man could support a family on one paycheck. That
seems virtually impossible today, in part because young people have very high
expectations.
We were content to live modestly, without air-conditioning. Far from getting
into a panic at the sight of mosquitoes, we just brushed 'em off and scratched
the bites. Sometimes we would spray the house with a Gulf Oil Co. hand sprayer,
creating no doubt a fine layer of DDT on everything. Because we're still
kicking, I guess that it didn't hurt us.
Health and appearance did not obsess us, nor did we have an urgent desire --
which some of today's baby boomers seem to have -- to be immortal. We all knew
lots of people who had died or were maimed, and, with a world war going on, we
accepted such matters stoically. I cannot imagine anybody sending "grief
counselors" -- whatever the heck they are -- into a school or town. We all
learned how to grieve on our own, and we didn't need anybody's help.
In the South, when someone dies, it's usually the church folks who come over,
bearing food. Folks may do that in other parts of the country, too, but I've
never lived anywhere but in the South, so I don't know. It's a nice custom, but,
of course, you've got to go to church to benefit.
There is another difference. The South has been called the last outpost of
Christendom, and I think that's true. Southerners tend to take things personally
-- not only insults but also religion. Of course, with the onslaught of
immigration and modern communications, a lot of these endearing traits of the
South are vanishing.
But we all ought to think, instead of accepting the present as a permanent
given, how we could live better, how we could spend more time with our families,
how we could reduce our desires and stay out of debt, and how we could restore a
sense of community.
We should not allow advertising and corporate greed to rule our lives and shape
our communities.
All of this material stuff, like everything else, will eventually pass away.
It's not worth sacrificing a decent life to get it.
Copyright
© 2001, Orlando Sentinel