I Don’t Want Any Of Those Dang Grits!!!

I Don’t Want Any Of Those Dang Grits!!!

Sometimes things run through my head at really odd times. I mean, here I sit at 2 AM on Sunday (obviously bored out of my skull) and thinking about Grits. Not really grits though, It's about life.

Like my buddy RJ who I used to work with told a waitress one time, when asked, “I don’t want any of those dang grits!” According to him it really pissed her off and she seemed insulted because he didn’t want them. I don’t blame him. I went to the Cracker Barrel once and ordered them (because Bee told me how delicious they were) and I have to say whole heartedly that “I don’t want any of those dang grits!” Now having said this, I promise not to let a one time grit experience keep me from trying them one more time, because let’s face it, it may have been a Yankee trying to make me h ate them. Some people are like that I suppose.



Now, before “Ya-all” from the south hammer me, let me say that maybe it stems from a time when I was a kid. I have a good job now and am fat and happy and pretty much eat what I want. However, when we were kids, our dietary choices were rather limited. I remember that at grandma’s house that for breakfast every time I was there (and I lived there for quite a few years) there was oatmeal. Now I will say beyond a doubt that I do not like oatmeal because that was it. Maybe not all of the time, but probably 95% of the time it was oatmeal with a little milk and sugar on it. I suppose if it came down to starving and eating oatmeal, then I would eat oatmeal (or grits if necessary) but I do not think I could ever get to liking them. We did however have a form of grits when I was a kid. It was called cornmeal mush. It was made much the same way as grits. The difference however is that after boiling it, you would bake it (kind of like cornbread) and put butter on it. That, or we would fry it on a griddle and call it johnnycakes. Maybe that’s one reason I don’t like it. Maybe I connect it with a time when we didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. I suppose I just don’t like them, because let’s face it, from looking at me you can tell I do like to eat.

Now, before you discount the “poor” label, I’m telling you that we were definitely that. Dad worked every day he could and worked on the side to try and support the family. Probably until I was about 10,. we heated water on a stove and took a bath in a wash tub. We didn’t know any better. We also didn’t take a bath every day. We were poor but happy. We also had an outhouse that we used all year and sleet nor snow nor dark of night could keep us from our appointed rounds. Needless to say, we never tarried long while taking care of our “business” because we’d freeze it off in the winter and to describe the smell in the summer is not possible. I suppose it was probably a lot harder on the women, because let’s face it, when you’re a man, the world is your urinal. This reminds me of the song….






















They passed an ordinance in the town
They said we'd have to tear it down
That little old shack out back so dear to me
Though the health department said
It's day was over and dead
It will stand forever in my memory

It was not so long ago
That I went tripping through the snow
Out to that house behind my old hound dog
Where I'd sit me down to rest
Like a snow bird on his nest
And read the Sears and Roebuck catalogue

I would hum a happy tune
Peeping through the quarter moon
As my Daddy's kin had done before
It was in that quiet spot
Daily cares could be forgot
It gave the same relief to rich and poor

Now it was not a castle fair
But I could dream a future there
And build my castles to the yellow jacket's drone
I could orbit around the sun
Fight with General Washington
Or be a king upon a golden throne

It wasn't fancy built at all
We had newspapers on the wall
It was air conditioned in the wintertime
It was just a humble hut
But it's door was never shut
And a man could get inside without a dime

Chorus
Don't let 'em tear that little brown building down
Don't let 'em tear that precious building down
Don't let 'em tear that dear old building down
For there's not another like it in the country or the town

I didn’t write this little ditty, it was a real song written by Bobby Bare. I’ll see if I can find a video of it.

For some of you city people who have never experienced an outhouse, imagine a porta potty without the chemicals to keep the stench down (except the occasional bag of lime). That is the only thing that they have in common is that they were portable. However, the only time they were portable is when we had to dig a new hole and move it because let’s face it, a hole in the ground eventually gets filled up and there were no outhouse pumping services. To move it took several burly guys to turn it over and carry it to the newly dug hole and set it over the top. You used the dirt from the new hole to cover the old one (with several bags of lime) and of course made sure the old hole wasn’t in the path of the new outhouse. I guess that was the first form of bathroom remodelling, moving the outhouse. I don’t suppose you’ll ever see that on DIY or the Home and Garden channel.

I need to tell you about our first shower. Believe it or not, it was a little lean to with a curtain in front of it of course that was outside. We ran a garden hose to it and man we felt like we were uptown! That of course only was for the summer. We didn’t get actual indoor plumbing until I was probably about 12 or so. Of course we hand dug our hole for the septic tank I remember that well. It was a hole about 6 foot deep and about 12 foot in square. We didn’t use a backhoe either. We dug it by hand. When it was all installed though, we had a sense of accomplishment that most city folks cannot understand either. That was cool, to be able to take a shower and use the bathroom indoors.

I guess I will some day be brave enough to try the grits again, although I suppose I may never get another chance to use a real outhouse.

Well, this blog didn’t make any sense but maybe it explains a little about the way I am. And then again, maybe not! I guess I’ll stop here and once again say…..

…that is all