“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces,
I would still plant my apple tree.”
“Dripping water hollows out stone,
not through force but through persistence.”
(a bloom from the magnolia tree my grandmother and mother planted when I was a little girl/
Julie Cook / 2016)
Driving home late this afternoon from Dad’s I passed a car that was sporting a bumper sticker.
I enjoy reading most of the stickers that either I pass or those that pass me…
stickers which are stuck on the various vehicles throughout my commute…
Some of them are cute and clever,
some are benign and boring and some are flat out truthful and or offensive.
One in particular caught my eye as I barreled out of Atlanta late today.
I for one am not a huge grits enthusiast…
although my Dad has always loved his grits each morning as a part of his breakfast regimen.
If the truth be told, I actually prefer the more northern fare of home fries rather than the
southern ground corn with my eggs and bacon…
I also love some good hash browns…not smothered or covered mind you—just a little salt is good.
Grits are just so so….despite being doctored up with salt and butter…I still prefer potatoes.
I do however love a nice cheese grits casserole or a hearty bowl of polenta with fresh parmesan cheese grated on top…but as far as breakfast, I happily forgo the grits.
Dad actually use to question my being a true Southerner as due in part to my less then
enthusiastic desire of grits with breakfast…
loving watermelon however did help me save face as well as my heritage…
So back to today’s bumper sticker…
GRITS is short for
Girls Raised In The South….
I like it….
as in there’s a little grit in that craw sort of thing going on.
As true southern girls are not all lace and petticoats contrary to popular belief.
I think more of Scarlet O’Hara’s raised fist stating that she will never go hungry again
sort of tenacity verses that demure “well shut my mouth fiddle dee dee”
cloyingly sweet honey dripping sentiment.
For Southern girls are fierce and tenacious….
much like my beloved Georgia Bulldogs—
cute and sweet to look at, even appearing a bit lackadaisical or slow,
yet mean and fierce, just like a junk yard dog when necessary.
Which brings me to magnolias.
Another true southern staple…
but in my case, I’m thinking more like a Steel Magnolia…
A magnolia bloom is a quintessential fragrant flower of the deep south.
Lilly white when unfurled to its full glory…and full of heady aroma…
Yet a magnolia tree is no demure little tree.
Supposedly they are trees that are older than bees.
How that all works, I’m not sure, but after looking at some of trees whose roots
have grown upwards out of the ground as in the trees are now sporting “knees”…
…I have also known a few of these trees that are well past the 150 year mark…
Well, I suppose I liken them to cockroaches….
in that they would most likely survive a nuclear event and simply keep on keeping on….
I say all of this as I’ve been reading recently a lot about the continuing business
of all things feminist…female militancy at its worst, raising its ugly head….
As in the latest being some boycott and march, yes another drole protest…as in how novel,
is to take place Wednesday….
Haven’t we marched and protested a bit much as of late…??
surpassing our quota for say…maybe the next 10 decades?!
Despite being of the female persuasion I’ve never cared for “feminism.”
The Gloria Steinem, bra burning, Hellen Reddy I Am Woman Hear Me Roar,
contraceptive swallowing, in your face militant feminism.
And whereas much of that may sound of a former time,
today’s feminists are not much different in their militant banter, male emasculating,
in your face nastiness, band of hidden agenda sisterhood, sign waving, fist raised,
unappealing anger group of gals.
I have grown weary hearing women chant that most males are misogynists.
Just as I am tired of hearing about gender choices, vagina hats, abortion rights,
reproductive issues, inequality…
yada, yada, yada…
If memory serves, there is but One who ordained gender, ordained equality
ordained roles, ordained all of life but I digress….
I grew up when good ol boy networks were very much alive and well.
I grew up in the work force where I was sexually harassed over and over long
before it was a popular catch phrase.
I endured and persevered…because here in the South, that’s what we all do…
male or female…
We don’t whine and most often, we don’t complain, not publicly anyway.
Yet we have been known to get a bit even when necessary….
For we Southerners have a determination and a steeliness that gets us through much of what
life throws at us.
Black or white, red or yellow…we preserve.
As we’ve often had to make do with less while equally sharing any of our abundance.
And respect has always been a big part of being raised in the South.
Many folks have always equated the South with being backwards, backwoods, ignorant and redneck.
Think Deliverance, while hearing dueling banjos, and that’s what other’s have mostly
thought of us.
Our speech pattern may be a bit drawn out but that certainly doesn’t mean that our brains,
nor are our hearts, are anything but quick and large….
I am proud of being a woman, and a southern woman at that,
because it means that I have a strength that many men do not.
No matter our point of origin, the strength of a woman is found in the heart of a fiercely
protective mother, yet one who knows that letting go is simply part of life.
I am proud of being a woman who can appear perhaps a bit simple, unassumingly sweet
but who can be complicated, deeply profound and hell on wheels when necessary.
Think Mother Teresa
A woman who loves and appreciates men—men who are masculine…
and whose mothers imparted upon them a sense of decency and compassion.
Because I know real men can and do cry.
Just as I know real men can stand alongside a woman while defending their nation…
all the while never blinking an eye…
Think Joan of Arc
I like what it means to be a woman—
to be nurturing while strong, sentimental while determined,
and tender while tenacious….
Think Clare of Assisi
This isn’t intended to be a complicated or political discourse on women’s rights,
gender equality, or the importance of the solidarity of women….
for I have neither time nor strength for that never-ending debate…
This is merely the observation of women by a woman…a southern woman.
A woman who has more in life to worry over than protesting and marching.
A woman who has been busy being a wife, mother, daughter and caretaker.
A woman who was so busy working that she never selfishly thought that
demonstrating or picketing was ever a priority during the forging, caring,
teaching and living of life.
No….there is no real place for the militancy of feminism when a woman
is busy living her life…as she cares and works for all those around her…
it’s what real women do—
fiercely and tenaciously caring, raising, nurturing, honoring and protecting…
Here’s to real women everywhere…those too busy to protest and march….
Those women who are strong of body, spirit and soul…
those who understand the true importance of what God has entrusted upon
that of living a life of a woman…..
No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind.
And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.
But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.
1 Corinthians 10:13
Ahh, what a breath of fresh air. I love it, Grits and magnolias, how perfect. You are such a blessing to read.
In this neck of the woods we would praise grits because they stick to your ribs, they fill you up, they have substance. When it is cold out and people work hard, they love their comfort food. “Sticks to your rib” is a great compliment, but a bit comical in terms of women. Grits, all the way up to the far North, have come to represent a kind of strength and toughness that is decidedly feminine and kind of like the glue that holds everything together.
Ahhh comfort and rib sticking — I love it!
Maybe that’s why I’ll eat grits more for supper.. more as a savory as in filling warm comfort food — like yummy mac-n-cheese 🙂
And yes– in true feminism there is found both strength and resilience but not in the raging militance of anger and defiance…glue yes…
separation, not so much…
I think you are full of grits – true grit that is. Women have forgotten how to be women and it’s really sad.
You’ve got that right Kathy! A dying breed, dying a slow death thanks to manic mob mentality found in the masses !
Tried grits once when I was over. Never again. But a bowl of porridge oats goes down a treat.
I agree about the porridge David—sweet and warm is very welcoming…
but give me a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon (rashers) or sausage (puddings) any ol day 🙂
A breakfast like that is an occasional treat these days Julie. All those calories would mess with my waistline! We usually have porridge with some berries.
me too David—once a week if I’m lucky as I usually grab a protein shake on my way to Atlanta 🙂
thank you so much
Thanks for your post.
Some of the Virginia and Maryland counties surrounding DC are closing their schools is support of the feminist Trump-haters tomorrow. It is good to know that many women don’t think much of this sort of nonsense. The selfish feminist Trump-haters will force moms and dads to stay home from work whether those moms and dads support their holy cause or not.
My mother was raised in Indiana and my father in Wisconsin, but the Air Force kept sending us to the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. So my mother learned to cook fried grits and serve them like pancakes. Irks me cause I never see fried grits served in restaurants, not even in Virginia.
Now that I am thinking about it maybe I can persuade my wife to cook fried grits, but she is a nurse, and all she wants to cook is healthy stuff. Sigh!
Still, there is hope. She has made potato paddies, and she does like pancakes.
Oh my gosh Tom—the schools closings are asinine—imposing a certain manifesto upon all students and all parents even if there are those who do not agree—that is indoctrination is is not?
and the fried grits is like a hoe cake—which my son loves…he eats them with maple syrup—much like a pancake—
this school closing business has me very perplexed!
Of course, I guess you think I ought to cook my own grits. I would, but my wife won’t trust me in the kitchen. I think I made the mistake of telling her too many times that when I took chemistry courses I learn in the lab how to cook too. No telling what she thinks I might do in the kitchen.
don’t worry about saying you’d like your wife to cook the grits—I’m a southern woman Tom who loves to cook and keeps my husband out of the kitchen—he can cook but is more of a bull in a china shop——the kitchen is mine, the tractor is his—as in we live on 5 acres of pasture land that he bush hogs… 🙂
Wow, wow, and wow again! Man can you tell it like it is!!! 🙂 ❤
[…] https://cookiecrumbstoliveby.wordpress.com/2017/03/07/grits-and-magnolias/#respond […]