| SWEET TEA & TUMBLEWEEDS IS DEBI'S CHARMING COLLECTION OF STORIES ABOUT GROWING UP IN TEXAS AND OKLAHOMA. WITH CHARACTERS SO REAL YOU FEEL LIKE YOU'VE KNOWN THEM FOREVER, THESE STORIES WEAVE CHARMING TALES OF GROWING UP IN AN ERA WHERE EVERYTHING WAS SIMPLE BUT FOLKS WERE MIGHTY COMPLICATED. SHE PERFORMED THE STORIES LIVE IN A ONE WOMAN SHOW, ONE OF WHICH APPEARS ON BELOW IS ONE OF THE MANY TWISTED TALES FROM THE SOUTHWEST. |
WHITE SECRETS
WELL, IT REALLY WASN’T MY FAULT. I DIDN’T MEAN TO DESTROY THE BARBECUE GRILL. YOU SEE, I WAS
FOUR YEARS OLD AND SIMPLE MUD PIES BORED ME TO TEARS. SO WHEN I SAW THE GRILL, I THOUGHT IT
WOULD BE FUN TO MAKE MUD HAMBURGERS. THERE WAS EVEN A SPATULA FOR ME TO FLIP THE BURGERS,
JUST LIKE A REAL CHEF!
SO, THERE I WAS, SITTING BY THE LOW GRILL, HAVING A BLAST WHEN SUDDENLY, FROM BEHIND, I HEARD AN
OMINOUS NOISE AND THEN AN ENORMOUS SHADOW LOOMED PRECARIOUSLY OVER MY HEAD. I COULDN’T
BREATHE. SLOWLY, I TURNED MY TERRIFIED HEAD AND LOOKED UP TO SEE THE 20 FOOT TALL PREDATOR. IT
WAS…MRS. TAYLOR AND SHE WAS NOT HAPPY. IN HER HAND SHE HELD A GIGANTIC WOODEN SPOON, AND HER
MASSIVE PICCADILLY PRINT APRON FLAPPED IN THE BREEZE. SHE WORE A CHARM BRACELET THAT, AS SHE
SHOOK HER FINGER IN MY FACE, RATTLED LIKE A DIAMOND BACK SNAKE. WITH A WEAK SMILE, I POINTED MY
TREMBLING FINGER WITH PITIFUL PRIDE AT MY CREATIVE TRIUMPH. SHE LOOKED AT MY MUD BURGERS,
DRIPPING RUSTY DIRT INTO HER CHARCOAL AND LOOKED BACK AT ME. SHE WAS NOT IMPRESSED.
I SWEAR I THOUGHT SHE SAID ‘FEE FIE FO FUM.’ AND THEN…SHE THREATENED TO TELL MY MOTHER IF I EVER
CAME BACK IN HER YARD AGAIN. WELL, I RAN ALL THE WAY HOME.
NOW, IN MY FAMILY, THE ONLY CARDINAL SIN IS TO TELL A LIE. ROAST AND BURN IN THE FIRES OF ALMIGHTY
HELL ARE LONG TERM CONSEQUENCES FOR TRANSGRESSIONS. WHEN I FLEW THROUGH THE BACK DOOR, I
RAN STRAIGHT INTO MY MOTHER’S KNEES. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”
OH GOD, WHAT TO DO, WHAT TO SAY…”UH, UMMM, MAKING HAMBURGERS.”
MOTHER’S EYES NARROWED. “DEAR, WITH WHOM WERE YOU MAKING HAMBURGERS?’
“UH, UMM, MRS. TAYLOR?”
“OH, DEBI, YOU PRECIOUS THING. THAT POOR TAYLOR WOMAN HAS NO IDEA HOW TO EVEN BOIL AN EGG,
LET ALONE MAKE AN ICE BOX LEMON PIE, AND THERE YOU WENT, TEACHING HER TO MAKE DELICIOUS
HAMBURGERS JUST LIKE YOUR DADDY DOES, AND YOU, JUST FOUR YEARS OLD. I TOLD YOUR AUNT FANNIE
THAT I JUST KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO CARRY ON OUR TRADITION OF EXCEPTIONAL SOUTHERN COOKIN’ AND
LOOK AT YOU…HELPING A NEIGHBOR IN NEED…AND A LADY THAT FRANKLY NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO EVEN
TALK TO. PITY REALLY BECAUSE IF SHE’D GO TO THE RIGHT BEAUTICIAN, SHE COULD DO SOMETHING WITH
THAT…OH, DEBI YOU ARE JUST THE BEST GIRL. I’M GOING TO HAVE YOUR DADDY TAKE YOU OUT FOR SPECIAL
ICE CREAM RIGHT AFTER DINNER. I THINK I’LL CALL MRS. TAYLOR RIGHT NOW AND…”
“NO, MOTHER, NOPE, NOT A GOOD IDEA.”
“BUT, DEBI, WHY…OH, RIGHT, NO NEED TO
EMBARRASS HER. WE’LL JUST KEEP THIS OUR LITTLE SECRET. YOU SWEET THING.”
‘WHEW’, I THOUGHT, ‘IT’S OVER. TRAGEDY AVERTED AND I DIDN’T HAVE TO LIE. CLEVER, CLEVER, ME AND
NOW IT’S A LITTLE WHITE SECRET BETWEEN MOM AND ME. HOW SPECIAL…UNTIL
SUNDAY WHEN WE PICKED UP MY GRANDMOTHER TO GO ELECTRA TO SEE AUNT FANNIE AND THE REST OF
THE FAMILY.
“ESTELLE,” MY FATHER BRAGGED, “YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER IS A GIRL AFTER YOUR OWN HEART. WHY EVEN
AT HER AGE SHE HELPED A POOR NEIGHBOR LADY LEARN TO MAKE HAMBURGERS.”
“WHY BILL,” MY GRANDMOTHER REPLIED, “YOU SOUND SURPRISED. DEBI’S BEEN TAUGHT BY THE BEST
COOKS IN TEXAS. OF COURSE SHE DID. DEBI, WHAT SPICES DID YOU USE IN THE MEAT?”
“UH, UMM, WELLL, SEE, UH, MRS. TAYLOR, WELL, HER STUFF WAS KIND OF…WELL, YOU KNOW, IT WAS KIND
OF DARK AND ROCKY AND…
“WHY THESE PEOPLE INSIST UPON USING THAT OLD COARSE GROUND PEPPER I WILL NEVER KNOW,” MY
MOTHER SAVED ME.
MY GRANDMOTHER ADDED. “YOU ARE SO RIGHT NITA. LUTHER GRADY CLOSE TO CHOKED ON ONE OF
THOSE PEPPER CORNS JUST LAST MONTH. NO COOK WORTH HER SALT WOULD EVER USE BAD PEPPER.
WELL, LET’S GO BILL, WE’LL BE LATE FOR CHURCH.”
FINALLY IT WAS DONE. IT WAS OVER. CHURCH GOSSIP WOULD SAVE ME FROM REVISITING THE HORROR OF
THIS STORY. UNTIL…
“FANNIE,” MY GRANDMOTHER CHIRPED TO HER SISTER, “LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE A NATURAL BORN COOK IN
THE FAMILY. DEBI TAUGHT SOME POOR UNFORTUNATE NEIGHBOR WOMAN WHO DOES NOT KNOW A PECAN
FROM A WALNUT HOW TO MAKE HAMBURGERS.”
“HAMBURGERS!” AUNT FANNIE COMPLAINED. “WHY DIDN’T DEBI TEACH HER SOMETHING MORE SUBSTANTIAL
LIKE FRIED CHICKEN OR BISCUITS AND SAUSAGE GRAVY?”
“FOR HEAVENS SAKE, AUNT FANNIE,” MY MOTHER DEFENDED. “DEBI’S ONLY FOUR YEARS OLD!”
“WELL THAT’S TRUE. DEBI, DID YOU TEACH HER TO ADD A TEASPOON OF SUGAR AND MIX IT UP WITH HER
HANDS?”
“UH, UM, WELL, SHE HAD A WOODEN SPOON.”
“WOODEN SPOON?!?” ALL THREE WOMEN GASPED AND CLUTCHED THEIR CHESTS IN HORROR. “WELL, NO
WONDER THE WOMAN CAN’T COOK. ESTELLE, MAYBE WE SHOULD GO VISIT THIS WOMAN AND GIVE HER OUR
FAMILY COOKBOOK.”
“NO, NOPE, AUNT FANNIE, NOT A GOOD IDEA.”
“IT’S ALL RIGHT,” MY MOM SAVED ME AGAIN, “WE DON’T WANT HER TO FEEL WORSE THAN SHE ALREADY
DOES.”
AND THE MATTER WAS SETTLED AND OFF WE WENT TO THE BAPTIST CHURCH WHERE WE WERE ALL
SAVED…AGAIN. AS I LISTENED TO THE PREACHER ADMONISH SINNERS, I FELT THE REPRIEVE OF LIES BY
OMISSION. I DIDN’T REALLY LIE. AND BESIDES, IT WAS ALL OVER NOW. UNTIL…
EVERY YEAR FROM THENCE FORWARD AS THE STORY WAS RETOLD EACH TIME I LEANED A NEW RECIPE.
“THIS WILL BE EASY FOR YOU TO MASTER DEBI. YOU’VE BEEN A GREAT SOUTHERN COOK SINCE YOU WERE
FOUR.” FROM DELICIOUS DUMPLINGS TO NEVER FAIL BARBECUE SAUCE, THE TALE WAS REPEATED.
AND NOW THE CHARGE COMES TO YOU. THE STORY STANDS, AND I’M COUNTING ON YOU NEVER TO
CORRECT IT.
I HAD A LOVELY QUIET MOMENT WITH MY DEARLY DEPARTED MOTHER AT THE GRAND CANYON. SHE PASSED
AWAY A FEW YEARS AGO, AND AS I WAS MOVING TO CALIFORNIA, I BECAME CONCERNED ABOUT MY MEMORIES
OF HER COOKING. DID I HAVE THE SECRET WHITE MERINGUE SHELL RECIPE? WHAT ABOUT HER MELT IN YOUR
MOUTH PECAN PIE? THE MEAT BALLS? THEN I PANICKED. WHAT WAS THAT SPECIAL TRICK SHE HAD WITH
TURKEY STUFFING? RIGHT…IT HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE SAGE. BUT HOW MUCH DID THE RECIPE CALL
FOR? THEN, IN THE QUIET OF THE MOMENT, WAFTING OVER THE PINK MIST OF THE CANYON, I HEARD MY
MOTHER’S SWEET VOICE AS CLEARLY AS I’M TALKING TO YOU NOW. “OH HONEY,” IT WAS JUST A PINCH. EASY
FOR YOU. YOU’VE BEEN A GREAT COOK SINCE YOU WERE FOUR.”
WELL, IT REALLY WASN’T MY FAULT. I DIDN’T MEAN TO DESTROY THE BARBECUE GRILL. YOU SEE, I WAS
FOUR YEARS OLD AND SIMPLE MUD PIES BORED ME TO TEARS. SO WHEN I SAW THE GRILL, I THOUGHT IT
WOULD BE FUN TO MAKE MUD HAMBURGERS. THERE WAS EVEN A SPATULA FOR ME TO FLIP THE BURGERS,
JUST LIKE A REAL CHEF!
SO, THERE I WAS, SITTING BY THE LOW GRILL, HAVING A BLAST WHEN SUDDENLY, FROM BEHIND, I HEARD AN
OMINOUS NOISE AND THEN AN ENORMOUS SHADOW LOOMED PRECARIOUSLY OVER MY HEAD. I COULDN’T
BREATHE. SLOWLY, I TURNED MY TERRIFIED HEAD AND LOOKED UP TO SEE THE 20 FOOT TALL PREDATOR. IT
WAS…MRS. TAYLOR AND SHE WAS NOT HAPPY. IN HER HAND SHE HELD A GIGANTIC WOODEN SPOON, AND HER
MASSIVE PICCADILLY PRINT APRON FLAPPED IN THE BREEZE. SHE WORE A CHARM BRACELET THAT, AS SHE
SHOOK HER FINGER IN MY FACE, RATTLED LIKE A DIAMOND BACK SNAKE. WITH A WEAK SMILE, I POINTED MY
TREMBLING FINGER WITH PITIFUL PRIDE AT MY CREATIVE TRIUMPH. SHE LOOKED AT MY MUD BURGERS,
DRIPPING RUSTY DIRT INTO HER CHARCOAL AND LOOKED BACK AT ME. SHE WAS NOT IMPRESSED.
I SWEAR I THOUGHT SHE SAID ‘FEE FIE FO FUM.’ AND THEN…SHE THREATENED TO TELL MY MOTHER IF I EVER
CAME BACK IN HER YARD AGAIN. WELL, I RAN ALL THE WAY HOME.
NOW, IN MY FAMILY, THE ONLY CARDINAL SIN IS TO TELL A LIE. ROAST AND BURN IN THE FIRES OF ALMIGHTY
HELL ARE LONG TERM CONSEQUENCES FOR TRANSGRESSIONS. WHEN I FLEW THROUGH THE BACK DOOR, I
RAN STRAIGHT INTO MY MOTHER’S KNEES. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”
OH GOD, WHAT TO DO, WHAT TO SAY…”UH, UMMM, MAKING HAMBURGERS.”
MOTHER’S EYES NARROWED. “DEAR, WITH WHOM WERE YOU MAKING HAMBURGERS?’
“UH, UMM, MRS. TAYLOR?”
“OH, DEBI, YOU PRECIOUS THING. THAT POOR TAYLOR WOMAN HAS NO IDEA HOW TO EVEN BOIL AN EGG,
LET ALONE MAKE AN ICE BOX LEMON PIE, AND THERE YOU WENT, TEACHING HER TO MAKE DELICIOUS
HAMBURGERS JUST LIKE YOUR DADDY DOES, AND YOU, JUST FOUR YEARS OLD. I TOLD YOUR AUNT FANNIE
THAT I JUST KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO CARRY ON OUR TRADITION OF EXCEPTIONAL SOUTHERN COOKIN’ AND
LOOK AT YOU…HELPING A NEIGHBOR IN NEED…AND A LADY THAT FRANKLY NO ONE REALLY WANTS TO EVEN
TALK TO. PITY REALLY BECAUSE IF SHE’D GO TO THE RIGHT BEAUTICIAN, SHE COULD DO SOMETHING WITH
THAT…OH, DEBI YOU ARE JUST THE BEST GIRL. I’M GOING TO HAVE YOUR DADDY TAKE YOU OUT FOR SPECIAL
ICE CREAM RIGHT AFTER DINNER. I THINK I’LL CALL MRS. TAYLOR RIGHT NOW AND…”
“NO, MOTHER, NOPE, NOT A GOOD IDEA.”
“BUT, DEBI, WHY…OH, RIGHT, NO NEED TO
EMBARRASS HER. WE’LL JUST KEEP THIS OUR LITTLE SECRET. YOU SWEET THING.”
‘WHEW’, I THOUGHT, ‘IT’S OVER. TRAGEDY AVERTED AND I DIDN’T HAVE TO LIE. CLEVER, CLEVER, ME AND
NOW IT’S A LITTLE WHITE SECRET BETWEEN MOM AND ME. HOW SPECIAL…UNTIL
SUNDAY WHEN WE PICKED UP MY GRANDMOTHER TO GO ELECTRA TO SEE AUNT FANNIE AND THE REST OF
THE FAMILY.
“ESTELLE,” MY FATHER BRAGGED, “YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER IS A GIRL AFTER YOUR OWN HEART. WHY EVEN
AT HER AGE SHE HELPED A POOR NEIGHBOR LADY LEARN TO MAKE HAMBURGERS.”
“WHY BILL,” MY GRANDMOTHER REPLIED, “YOU SOUND SURPRISED. DEBI’S BEEN TAUGHT BY THE BEST
COOKS IN TEXAS. OF COURSE SHE DID. DEBI, WHAT SPICES DID YOU USE IN THE MEAT?”
“UH, UMM, WELLL, SEE, UH, MRS. TAYLOR, WELL, HER STUFF WAS KIND OF…WELL, YOU KNOW, IT WAS KIND
OF DARK AND ROCKY AND…
“WHY THESE PEOPLE INSIST UPON USING THAT OLD COARSE GROUND PEPPER I WILL NEVER KNOW,” MY
MOTHER SAVED ME.
MY GRANDMOTHER ADDED. “YOU ARE SO RIGHT NITA. LUTHER GRADY CLOSE TO CHOKED ON ONE OF
THOSE PEPPER CORNS JUST LAST MONTH. NO COOK WORTH HER SALT WOULD EVER USE BAD PEPPER.
WELL, LET’S GO BILL, WE’LL BE LATE FOR CHURCH.”
FINALLY IT WAS DONE. IT WAS OVER. CHURCH GOSSIP WOULD SAVE ME FROM REVISITING THE HORROR OF
THIS STORY. UNTIL…
“FANNIE,” MY GRANDMOTHER CHIRPED TO HER SISTER, “LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE A NATURAL BORN COOK IN
THE FAMILY. DEBI TAUGHT SOME POOR UNFORTUNATE NEIGHBOR WOMAN WHO DOES NOT KNOW A PECAN
FROM A WALNUT HOW TO MAKE HAMBURGERS.”
“HAMBURGERS!” AUNT FANNIE COMPLAINED. “WHY DIDN’T DEBI TEACH HER SOMETHING MORE SUBSTANTIAL
LIKE FRIED CHICKEN OR BISCUITS AND SAUSAGE GRAVY?”
“FOR HEAVENS SAKE, AUNT FANNIE,” MY MOTHER DEFENDED. “DEBI’S ONLY FOUR YEARS OLD!”
“WELL THAT’S TRUE. DEBI, DID YOU TEACH HER TO ADD A TEASPOON OF SUGAR AND MIX IT UP WITH HER
HANDS?”
“UH, UM, WELL, SHE HAD A WOODEN SPOON.”
“WOODEN SPOON?!?” ALL THREE WOMEN GASPED AND CLUTCHED THEIR CHESTS IN HORROR. “WELL, NO
WONDER THE WOMAN CAN’T COOK. ESTELLE, MAYBE WE SHOULD GO VISIT THIS WOMAN AND GIVE HER OUR
FAMILY COOKBOOK.”
“NO, NOPE, AUNT FANNIE, NOT A GOOD IDEA.”
“IT’S ALL RIGHT,” MY MOM SAVED ME AGAIN, “WE DON’T WANT HER TO FEEL WORSE THAN SHE ALREADY
DOES.”
AND THE MATTER WAS SETTLED AND OFF WE WENT TO THE BAPTIST CHURCH WHERE WE WERE ALL
SAVED…AGAIN. AS I LISTENED TO THE PREACHER ADMONISH SINNERS, I FELT THE REPRIEVE OF LIES BY
OMISSION. I DIDN’T REALLY LIE. AND BESIDES, IT WAS ALL OVER NOW. UNTIL…
EVERY YEAR FROM THENCE FORWARD AS THE STORY WAS RETOLD EACH TIME I LEANED A NEW RECIPE.
“THIS WILL BE EASY FOR YOU TO MASTER DEBI. YOU’VE BEEN A GREAT SOUTHERN COOK SINCE YOU WERE
FOUR.” FROM DELICIOUS DUMPLINGS TO NEVER FAIL BARBECUE SAUCE, THE TALE WAS REPEATED.
AND NOW THE CHARGE COMES TO YOU. THE STORY STANDS, AND I’M COUNTING ON YOU NEVER TO
CORRECT IT.
I HAD A LOVELY QUIET MOMENT WITH MY DEARLY DEPARTED MOTHER AT THE GRAND CANYON. SHE PASSED
AWAY A FEW YEARS AGO, AND AS I WAS MOVING TO CALIFORNIA, I BECAME CONCERNED ABOUT MY MEMORIES
OF HER COOKING. DID I HAVE THE SECRET WHITE MERINGUE SHELL RECIPE? WHAT ABOUT HER MELT IN YOUR
MOUTH PECAN PIE? THE MEAT BALLS? THEN I PANICKED. WHAT WAS THAT SPECIAL TRICK SHE HAD WITH
TURKEY STUFFING? RIGHT…IT HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE SAGE. BUT HOW MUCH DID THE RECIPE CALL
FOR? THEN, IN THE QUIET OF THE MOMENT, WAFTING OVER THE PINK MIST OF THE CANYON, I HEARD MY
MOTHER’S SWEET VOICE AS CLEARLY AS I’M TALKING TO YOU NOW. “OH HONEY,” IT WAS JUST A PINCH. EASY
FOR YOU. YOU’VE BEEN A GREAT COOK SINCE YOU WERE FOUR.”
