I was born and raised as a Baptist. My Mother and Daddy were what she called “hard shelled Baptist” or Primitive Baptist. They and their congregation had, to me, many bizarre beliefs to what mine are today as a Southern Baptist. They believed in predestination, only a select few would go to heaven, had no Sunday schools because women could not teach and there were not enough men to instruct and the parents were supposed to instruct their own children, no tithing, you just gave joyfully, and no salaried preacher and no schooling for the preacher. He was to be God called or what my mother called a “stump preacher. These are just a few of the beliefs I was brought up to believe.
I remember going to camp meetings (revivals) during my very early years. The little white clapboard church with its tin roof, no air conditioning, and a wood stove for heat, sat beside and old cemetery where all my ancestors rested. I loved to walk among the old breaking and crumbling head stones and read the odd names. Names like – Viola, Henrik, Bastain, Euzalea, and my favorite Genevieve. I would try to imagine how they looked, especially as children with peculiar names.
Sometimes we would have tent meetings. A large tent was set up with wooden benches, no backs, and the whole countryside would come out to share the worship time. There were all denominations singing and shouting. If you were not there, you could her the voices from miles away. The church itself, had the doors open and all the widows raised in the summertime, no screens so bug would fly around all during the services. I once saw a fly buzz into a lady’s mouth one night as she hit a high note singing “I’ll Fly Away”. Anyway, the bug flew away! Every visitor flapped a funeral home fan to keep cool and to help with the bugs. The fan was a piece of square cardboard attached to a stick. During the singing and the animated preaching, those fans would move as if motorized.
During one of those revival meetings, it was hot as blazes, and the preacher was really into the text of predestination (Romans 8:28). Not a sound was made apart from the amens and glories being shouted. He had the rapt attention of the congregation. All eyes were on this man of God, almost without blinking. We were all spellbound. Well as I have said the windows and doors were open to allow air circulation, but on this night, it also allowed an unwelcomed visitor to ramble into the services – a beautiful long tailed, striped skunk moved down the short aisle headed toward the dynamic speaker. Suddenly, he began talking in a manner none of us understood. We thought he was speaking in tongues as he said, “Oh Lord, nobody gets excited." "Please be still.” "Make no fast or sudden moves." Then all at once he shouts, “RUN PEOPLE!”
About that time, we all saw our visitor and we began jumping out the windows, climbing the pew, pushing people down to get to the door, it was mass chaos. The poor skunk was so terrified he sprayed all who were close enough with his perfume and we were all shouting in some unknown language.
On baptism Sundays we would have dinner on the ground on the long wooden tables that had been built years ago. That was some of the best food I ever have eaten.
Although this was a different place in time, I love to recall and ponder those memories of my childhood.
Aunt Louise’s Dinner on the Ground Creamed Corn
6-8 ears of fresh corn cut off the cob and cob scraped
¼ cup of bacon grease
1 cup of half and half
Salt and pepper
Pour the corn into an iron skillet with the bacon grease and stir until sizzling. Add half and half, salt and pepper. Cook on low until it starts to thicken and then cook on low for 10 to 15 minutes
