what the fuck?

This is some of the bullshit Stacey experienced in the last couple weeks.

She went to the Kroger grocery store next to Greenbriar Mall, on the south side of Atlanta. This is the part of town we have lived in for about ten years. She was in the parking lot, in her car, in front of the front doors of the store. A fellow in a pickup truck stopped in front of her and proceeded to get into a conversation with someone on the sidewalk. Stacey decided to go around the truck and when she did and was just about around the guy he accelerated into the back end of her car. Stacey stopped, got out of her car and looked at the guy and turned hers hands up as if to say “what the fuck?”. Well the guy driving the truck jumped out and the first thing out of his mouth was “you must have forgot where you are”, as if she was far from home in a place few white folks choose to go.

Then a couple days later she was just a block away from the same Kroger, near the Greenbriar Mall, stopped at red light when one of the Rev. Farrakhan’s disciples approached her and ask if she would like to buy a bean pie. No thanks Stacey told the guy and he asked her “are you serious?” She told him she didn’t want a pie. The guy got mad with Stacey and started to tell her how the black folks had suffered for years, had been oppressed. Wanted to know why she didn’t want to buy a bean pie. Stacey said she just didn’t want a bean pie, thank you very much. So the fella went to the cars on either side of Stacey and was turned down by each one. He told each person, thanks have a nice day. So as he walked towards Stacey’s car again he started a little dance and chanted Obama, Obama, Obama, Obama. When he got back near Stacey she asked him why he gave her such grief but told the two ladies who also didn’t want his pie, “thanks and have a nice day”? She said maybe she was for Obama as well, how did he know? He just danced off chanting Obama, oba……..

Then a few days later Stacey was working out with the Boot Camp class at her local gym. It’s early in the morning and it’s chilly. They are all outside running when Stacey hears someone shout “hey white girl ain’t you cold”. This was probably no big deal to Stacey, she has been going to this gym a long time and knows everyone and knew this lady intended no harm. But some of the other ladies quickly jumped up and said you can’t say that. They didn’t care if she was kidding, ya can’t say it, no way, no how. That was cool, and like I said the lady didn’t mean no harm, she just forgot Stacey’s name.

So everyone involved in each of these moments of, of, of what? I don’t even know how to phrase it. What is it? I just don’t know. But it’s a big ugly white elephant in the room and we gotta find a way to discuss it and not come off as racist. Everyone involved, except Stacey, was a black person.

Have Ya Heard the News?

I ask, HAVE YA HEARD THE NEWS?

People said it would never happen, people said I’ll never live to see this day. They said we couldn’t make it. But, they were all wrong and now all across America folks are celebrating this day. Hell the whole world is celebrating this day.

Now I just want to say, “I told ya so”. And I did, I’ve always known we would make it one day. It hasn’t been easy, but on the other hand it hasn’t been that difficult either. It’s been a long time coming, we waited, we hoped, we worked together to make it happened because we believed. We believed in each other and we believed our love would carry us through. To the other side, to a better place. But now that we here, now that it’s all clear, we see we have been “here” the whole time. We look back and we see the “getting there” is what it’s all about. What we have grown into is what we are, what we have always been. Which is Stacey and Tracy so in love with each other that life is like a walk in the park. A very nice park!

Happy 20th Anniversary to us!

Frank Stanford

Frank Stanford shot himself in the heart three times with a .22 caliber hand gun. It was June 3rd, 1978 and he was only 29 years old. I learned of Stanford a couple weeks ago on a trip to Fayetteville, Ar. There was a weekend long festival to be held in his honor and I read about it, and him for the first time in the local paper.

Why a festival for him you ask ? Because the man was a wordsmith and he wrote with a mighty pen. Poetry mostly. Not your typical poems of rhymes and stanzas. His best known work is a one line poem that is 549 pages long. It is believed he started this poem when he was a teenager in the 60’s, working on it til completion in 1975. He wrote the entire piece by hand and it was originally 1000 pages long. THE BATTLEFIELD WHERE THE MOON SAYS I LOVE YOU is the title.

I read the newspaper article about the festival, about the man, and I was very interested. Frank Stanford, and his poem, The Battlefield where the Moon says I Love You, sounded right up my alley. I ordered the book and upon receiving it I knew I was gonna enjoy it, for many years to come. One of the first things that struck me was the way he use the dialect, the voice of the African Americans who worked for his father on the levees in Mississippi and Arkansas. Some writers are very good at getting the voice of the characters of a book just right, Stanford nailed it with this poem. The poem is told in the voice of a 12 year old kid. It’s obvious Stanford is the kid and that as a kid he spent a lot of time with the crew that worked for his Dad. It’s a fascinating read and full of imagery that is easy to grasp. I wish I could have stayed for the week and checked out the festival.

I have read a lot about Stanford and the Battlefield poem since learning of him. Everything I have read seems evident when you start reading the poem. It’s all true, you can pick the book up, open it to any page and just “get it” right away. It also seems, as I read somewhere, that the poem was in line with the civil rights movement of the time. It goes on and on about what he witnessed as a young man and what he knows to be right and wrong about all he witnessed. And the dialect, the beautiful way he captured the voice of the down and out, of the old black ladies that took care of him when he was a small child, the angry black man and his attitude towards the white man who was trying to hold him back. I’m sure some of it was fiction, but I know a lot was first hand knowledge. The names of the people in the poem are the names of the men he grew up with. There is a short film about Stanford, it’s called IT WASN’T A DREAM, IT WAS A FLOOD. In the film you meet some of these men, same names as in the poem. Baby Gauge, O.Z., Charlie B. Lemon, they all worked for Stanford’s dad and had a huge impact on the young Stanford’s writing.

I feel like I really discovered something here. A real jewel if you will. The south has plenty of great writers, but it’s not often you come across something like this. Something that’s there for the taking, a nice neat package of a mans life and his work, ready to be consumed by anyone interested.

Arkansas

The Ozarks. It’s a nice place. Stacey and I have been visiting there, on and off for the last 20 years. We have found some really cool spots to visit and good places to eat. Doe’s Eat Place for one. There are a few around Mississippi and Arkansas. The first was in Greenville, Mississippi. It was first opened as a grocery store by the Signa family, they called it Papa’s Store. In 1927 a flood put them out of business and the father of the Signa family turned to bootlegging to get back on his feet.

Then in 1941 they opened as a bar, a honky tony if you will, serving blacks only. The white folks had to enter through the back door. The white folks also got fed in the back. But, soon Doe’s was doing more business as a restaurant so they closed the bar and made the whole joint a eat place.

Still going strong to this day, serving steak by the pound and some really good tamales.

We didn’t make to Doe’s to eat last time we were in Arkansas, but we did eat at James at the Mill. This is on the other end of the dining experience of Doe’s Eat Place. James at the Mill is fine dining. He refers to his food as Ozark Plateau Cuisine. I call it cowboy food. Big food, big flavors. Andouille corn dogs, Mac and cheese with truffles. Steaks. You know what I mean, big food.The restaurant is also a beautiful work of architecture, full of art and high design.

We also visited two chapels designed by renowned architect Fay Jones. I have written about Jones and his chapels in the woods before, search back for that post. Today I’m just gonna post a photo Stacey took a few weeks ago on our last visit.

On the wall at a Bar in Belize

Redfish on the half-shell

My little brother kills animals. He’s like a lot of people who enjoy hunting and fishing. Often he takes his two boys along, teaching them the rights and wrongs of being a sportsman. Probably a good time and good lessons to teach young folks.

But that’s not what I want to focus on. I want to tell you about the way he told me to cook Redfish. He gave my Mom a bunch of fish from their last trip and my Mom gave me some. He calls it Redfish on the half-shell. Click here to go to a sight that has some info. As far as cooking it, here is what little bro told me to do.

The fish was filleted with the skin and scales left in tact. You make a very hot fire in the grill. When the coals are ready set the grill as close to the coals as you can and put the fish on skin down. Salt and pepper the flesh side and paint it with olive oil and butter. Close the lid and four minutes later open and paint the flesh again with oil and butter. Do this every four minutes, about seven times, appx 3o minutes. Try to slide a spatula under the fish, if the fish will lift easily off the grill it’s ready, if not give it a few more minutes. Large fish might cook as many as 40 minutes. Redfish is a tough fish and can handle this kind of abuse. I bet that’s why Blackened Redfish worked out so well.

So I did this last night and it was great. I was afraid of cooking it to long, but 30 minutes was perfect. I also noticed the smaller of the two pieces was better then the larger one. Makes sense, tuff big ol fish, tender young fish.

I told Stacey that I am gonna tell all my chef friends about this and see if I can’t start a Redfish on the half-shell craze. I think it will take off, be as big as the Blackened craze. Then I went online and found all kinds of people writing about this method. I haven’t seen it on any menus yet so maybe I can get something going.

Where Ya Been?

Been to Arkansas. Ever been there? I always follow up the phrase “we have been in Arkansas” with ” have ya ever been there? It’s a great place to visit.” Her are some photos, captions to follow soon.