Having had a father who was born in the Cedar Grove community of Midland City, Alabama in the depression years of 1931, (forty two years after Midland City’s Incorporation), little did I know that this simplistic life I lived would someday be a distant memory.   Memories of a parentless 42 year old as of November 2004, when my mother passed away to be with her husband in the heavens of everlasting love.

My mother, born in central Alabama just north of Montgomery in Clanton,  was a southern girl up until her mother moved them to the frigid temperatures of Toledo, Ohio when my mom was only ten years of age. At 31 years old, she moved back to Alabama to live with her sister Betty until she got on her feet again in 1961, where my roots soon began in the Wiregrass Area.

My dad, who actually was raised here in Midland City, Alabama.  Like many other families, Daddy grew up in the era of  a world in a  no nonsense, farming family.  Families for generations came here to work the ground, find decent jobs and raise a family in the small rural setting of Southeast Alabama.  Helping each other was a way of life in this area of Midland City, as we were a close knit, “everybody knows your business” town.  Eating good and working hard for it was called in our day as a “pre-requisite” for living here.

When he met my mother in a downtown Dothan diner where she worked as a waitress, sparks flew.  My daddy was smitten.   My mother had a smile that would melt any man’s heart.  Daddy was working as a maintenance mechanic at Winn Dixie (at that time called “Quik Chek”) for $22.00 a week in the early 60’s.  My parents were married after only two months of courtship on November 11, 1961.  Over the next three or four months they built a 3 bedroom one bath home on Garden Lane in Dothan, Alabama for $12,000.  Just a  few months later, the stork called on them and I was born in September of 1962 at the Flowers Hospital which was at that time located on Main Street close to downtown Dothan.   This, fulfilling my mother’s dream of having a baby girl.  She, was already a mother of a eight year old son nicknamed Chip, from a previous marriage.  Daddy, already a father of a seven year old son as well, struggled to see his first born who lived with his mother.  Having a baby girl tickled Daddy and he was always giddy when he held me, momma would tell me.  Two and a half years later the stork came again and my younger sibling was born, naming him Bryant Edward after my father’s daddy.  Both of my parents told stories of those depression years by starting with the phrase, “I remember when…”, to allow my little brother and I the awareness of how fortunate we were to have food on the table and shoes on our feet.

My father attended Midland City Elementary School through the 10th grade.    He quit school to work in the fields with his father.  When he was 17, he was drafted into  the army and spent 3 years in the Korean War.  He would dream of one day moving back to Midland City, having a garden for fresh vegetables, having children to work it, and grilling butt’s on his fire pit while watching his vegetables grow.   This kept him alive during those horrible years in Korea.  He brought back pictures of his horrible memories of that time in his life but, never really spoke of anything that transpired because he said he just wanted to forget the things he had to do.

My father’s dream of moving to Midland City to raise his family one day became a reality five years later.  My grandma Bessie, was still living which enabled her to watch us sometimes when mother needed her to.   Grandma Bessie also helped my mother learn the art of cooking homegrown vegetables, fried chicken and cubed steak that my dad enjoyed so much.  My dad also had several sisters who still lived in Midland City, Nellie and Elizabeth, who knew their stuff when it came to canning vegetables and fruit, and cooking southern delicacies.  Dad’s other sister, Frances, lived in Macon, GA and his younger brother Comer Joe, got ran over by a (Blanked) ole’ train when he was only 26 years old walking down a railroad track in Columbus, GA, while endulging in his favorite bottle.

Growing up in this family oriented community, downtown  was located in the heart of Midland City in what was known as Delta Street.  My friends and I would walk from Dale Circle through the city cemetery (which was next to my house) to Benny Tices IGA store anticipating purchasing a banana popsicle for 5 cents or an ice cream sandwich for 10 cents.  I also remember collecting coca cola bottles to help with the purchase of our favorite treats that my brother and I enjoyed so much.

My dad taught us early the need to grow our own vegetables to save money on our grocery bills.  He would wake us up early on Saturday monring while our friends would be sleeping in………. “BREAKFAST!!!”, he would yell about 6:15 a.m.  Our family garden behind our home and the land he rented to the right of the cemetery next to our house provided us the means of learning the art of hard work at a young age.  He taught us to be proud of our work and to make selling them fun!  By two o’clock he was ready to make some money.  “The art to selling vegetables in the streets of Midland City is to yell real loud”,  he would say,  “Turnips! Collards! Peas!”, my 5 year old brother and I would yell from the back tail gate of the 1968 FORD Pickup truck my dad drove at five miles per hour while waving at the area town folk.  Back then a “mess” of greens was only a quarter and by the end of the day we would have enough money to allow Daddy his favorite pastime, FISHING!

My dad always had a bass boat. An Evinrude or a Johnson motor would power it.  He loved either a blue or green shiny silver speckled paint job. Dead Lakes located near Wewahitchka was his favorite. All I remember was the stumps, mossy dead trees and scorching hot sun beaming down on us while I was made to sit for hours while he caught bluegill, crappy and bass. Every now and then we would catch a catfish. We were always looking for snakes in the trees or those slimy black eels that would try to jump in the boat. Alligators were everywhere. To say the least, as a child I hated to go. The only thing I liked to do was play in the swings and sing to the top of my lungs, Tanya Tuckers, “Del…ta Dawn, what’s that flower you have on, could it be a faded rose from days gone byyyy!“.

Back at the house, we had a peanut field bordering the back lot line. Daddy would go out in the back yard on some weekends, especially during the fall and winter (when he didn’t get to go fishing), and smoke Boston butts (of course from Winn Dixie) on the home made brick pit he made himself. While they were smoking, he’d ask us to watch for the farmer’s truck while crossing the barbed wire fence that divided his land from the farmer’s. He take a bucket with him and return with a mess of peanuts and take them into his shed where he had newspaper spread out on the floor and dump them. “Daddy”, we’d ask, “Isn’t that stealing”?   “Well baby”, Daddy would say, “I don’t think the farmer will notice that I took a small patch here and a small patch there; now get in there and pick them from the vines and take them to your mother.”

Once inside the house, mom would pull out her largest pot and dump salt and boil them vigorously for about two hours and then simmer and sit for several more hours in order to get enough juice in them for Daddy’s liking. “You got to put the whole peanut in your mouth”, Daddy would tell us, “put the peanut in your mouth and squeeze the juice out with your teeth and tongue. Then bite it open, and then such the peanut from the hull and spit it out. That way you don’t get the juice all over your shirt.”

Eating parched peanuts was a different art form, we had to eat them outside in the yard and put the shells in a paper bag so that daddy could ground them up and spread them over his worm bed.  Momma would purchase shelled peanuts and either roast them in the broiler oven or fry them in grease and then cover them with salt.  Needless to say, we mastered the art of eating peanuts in Midland City.

Note: Daddy would also buy peanuts from local farmers market in 5 lb. bags, not always jumping the wire fence.

When I was 9 and Bryant turned seven years old, my dad decided to venture into two extra businesses to make money for his fishing habits and our soon to be 2nd home in Panama City Beach, Florida. My parents purchased a trailer at Seagull Trailer Park across the street from the gulf.  One business was to help offset his fishing habit, he built a worm bed in the right rear corner of the yard so he wouldn’t have to pay for his bait. Secondly, he and mother started an Appliance Sales and Repair store in the downtown district of Midland City next to Benny Tices.  Mother would run the store (while daddy worked for Winn Dixie during the day) and take repair orders and sell appliances.  Their appliance sales business lasted two years and dad got promoted with Winn Dixie.  He started traveling more often and they eventually sold out the inventory.  But fortunately, he always had people calling the house for small repairs which daddy liked cause he wanted to make money for his fishing habits.

But the worm business thrived for about six years (to the “disappointment” of my brother of course). He and my brother would sell cups of 50 or 100 worms to a few select friends or family members to help pay for the meal that they would spread on top of the beds and then mix them in the soil with a pitch fork. My dad sold the worm bed to my brother after about a year, and put him in charge for a $1 and told him that was his business now. What he was saying was, “Bryant this is your chore every day after school, take care of my worms”. He got out of that chore when he went into the 9th grade and became a football player for the Dale County Warriors Jr. Varsity Team.  He was always placed as a running back because he was small and fast!

Part II: COMING SOON!

SUBMIT YOUR WIREGRASS STORY TODAY!

EMAIL ME AT: JANRENAE@DOTHANALABAMAMALL.COM

DONT FORGET THE PICTURES (PLEASE REDUCE TO 800 PIXELS)

back to top