There was a time in my life when Sunday meant dinner at “PaPa” and “MeMaw’s” house.  The  first day of the week was the best.  My grandparents had 11 living children, 6 boys and 5 girls and every child except one married so that brings the total to 21 but it doesn’t end there.  Each couple except one had children making a grand total of 38.  Sunday dinner was an event.  The table in the dining room seated 8 people so not everyone was first to the table.  My grandfather sat at the head of the table always and usually lingered there as the guest around the table changed.  The men ate first.  The women cooked and served.  The younger ones played outside until called in for dinner.  Not a “politically correct” scene I guess but “Dem” was the Good “Ole” Days. 

I might add that my grandparents never worked a “public job”.  My grandfather was a farmer.  My grandmother was everything else.  My grandfather once from what I’ve been told did work during the “Depression” and both lived through it.  My grandfather never spoke of it and my grandmother would just mention the food rations once in awhile.  She usually mentioned it while cooking as though she offered a prayer up every time she cracked an egg, poured milk or sifted flour she was thankful always to have those provided in good quality.  A full house, a seated table and a banquet of good food was a true blessing, “Dem” were the Good “Ole” Days.

I don’t recall my grandmother ever sitting down at that table for in my lifetime with her she never did.  I lived with my grandparents so that house was not just a Sunday gathering place for me it was home.  I didn’t understand the importance of it all as a child but as an adult it amazes me beyond mere belief.

My grandfather was the head of our family and my grandmother the center.  If you compared it to a government my grandfather was the Executive and Legislative branch and my grandmother the Judicial.  There were no rights in our family but we were privileged and beyond blessed.  Hard work was evident and we were privileged by that hard work to have a house, clothes, shoes and food. 

My grandfather never left a child behind nor did he fully release a child to his own life.  We were not slaves just family.  We were different but “Dem” was the Good “Ole” Days.  Change came every day but everything was always familiar.  Love was constant though not always seen as pleasant every form of love was manifest and necessary.

We managed to live with the privilege afforded us grateful for each day that dawned with possibilities and closed our eyes each night with the sounds of darkness that seemed to assure us of a peace beyond understanding.

Volumes could not hold if it could be written what life was like for me in “Dem” Good “Ole” Days but as I look around at the world I live in today I have to shield my eyes from the glaring “Pseudo” new world and just remember the ancient landmarks planted in “Dem” Good “Ole” Days.

“It’s not the economy stupid” it’s the people.  Good or evil We the People leave our footprints in the sand but the True believers in a Truth that transcends this world leave no footprints.  Truth requires that we submit to someone.  I’ve never stood in my own path.  I’ve always followed someone who had bigger shoes than me.  More times than I wish to remember I have trespassed onto paths I should have not tread but Thank God for “Dem” Good “Ole” Days and the lessons I learned because it’s “Dem” Good “Ole” Days that echo through my head  “Come Home, Come Home My Child it’s Supper-Time.”