This past weekend, as we braved severe weather while sheltering-in-place due to the coronavirus, I thought about my Momma’s people in the Mississippi Delta.
As I watched the weather reports Sunday, the storm crossed over the Mississippi River and possible rotation was spotted near Rolling Fork, home for many of my cousins. After I messaged them to see if they were safe, I called my sisters, and we discussed a visit as soon as we are released from Covid-19 precautions.
This got me thinking about a story I wrote many years ago that is more relevant today than ever.
Growing up, I spent many summers visiting Momma’s people in Sharkey County. I loved it.
The excitement built as soon as the hills leveled out and the delta began. That was the point where Momma’s eyes begin to twinkle with mirth and memories of a happy childhood.
Momma’s family has always been an interesting clan. The Yelvertons came to the United States from Scandinavia, and settled in Mississippi not long after stepping onto dry land. My great-grandfather, T.H. Yelverton, farmed the rich Delta soil his entire life while raising four sons practically single-handedly through a depression and World War II. Three of the four left home for Europe and Japan to fight for freedom – two returning wounded.
During those days, the Yelvertons experienced what nearly every Mississippi family coped-- draft notices, the fear of telegrams delivering bad news, 12-hour work days just to put food on the table, and the possibility of another devastating levee break.
Living in a modest cypress shotgun house, the family survived every ebb and flow life dealt them. They just tied a boat to the porch in preparation for what the Lord had in store for them.
Through the years, the family persevered. They worked hard, played hard, prayed hard, and leaned on each other for support. And the tales they told about life left me wondering if they were fact or fiction. From experience, I figured out they were mostly fact with just a touch of Southern exaggeration.
I remember sitting in my Uncle B-boy’s (real name, Breland) kitchen listening to him talk about growing up with his three brothers – the oldest being my grandfather, Benoit. He spoke of riding through Belzoni, shooting all the streetlights out with a revolver. He laughed about Uncle Burnell accidently chopping off my granddaddy’s big toe while in pursuit of a rat.
Now, with all of my uncles and my grandfather gone, the Delta holds much meaning for me. My ancestors thrived in that black, gumbo mud. The Delta is a part of who I am.
These days, with everyone sheltering-in-place, family has again taken the role central to everyone’s lives. Family is your comfort, your entertainment, your co-worker, your closest friends and confidants. It is sad that it took a pandemic to realize that when all of life’s distractions are gone, our family is what is most important to us.
When my Momma was growing up, her family was close-knit because they spent time together, talking and laughing and sharing funny stories on the porch or around the kitchen table. The front porch was a popular perch for most to bask in the fresh air. This is where so many families churned butter, washed laundry, and prepared vegetables from the garden. It was a place for families to spend time together, and with families like the Yelvertons, swap lies and laugh.
Back then, there was no place for a brooding teenager to retreat and wile away the time with video games and television and social media. Parents did not scroll through newsfeeds while having dinner and put all the focus of spending time together on taking the perfect family selfie to display on Instagram.
From my Momma, whom I miss every single day, I learned a lot. I learned to brew a perfect cup of coffee, to find humor in every situation, to make the simplest things beautiful with a little ingenuity and a hot glue gun, to remember even those who have long-departed this earth are just as close as ever in our memories, and above all, to always hold your family close.
She also taught me the importance of passing down family folklore to my son so all of those wonderful stories of the Yelvertons will never be forgotten.
The most important lesson of all? Life can be difficult and cruel and deal some a bad hand. But, if you just remember to tie a boat to porch, the waters will recede, and this too shall pass.
