I wanted that pot...

September, 2003.  My grandmother died.  Ruth Thompson Rhodes Burt Jerkins.  Grandmama - Granna - Mama - Ruth.

I really, really miss her on two occasions...Easter, and when I make her pot-roast.  Last week, I pulled out her old crock-pot (circa 1967) and the recipe she gave me over the phone when I was first married back in 1991.  Combine that with the warm weather - that makes me want to plant stuff (like Grandmama) - and, you get, me - all vehclemnt.


I remember the day the family all met at Papa Tang and Grandmama's house on Crafton to clean it out and get it ready to sell.  So incredibly sad.  It really was nearly as bad as losing them.  That tiny little house (probably 1,100 sq. feet) held at the very least, 8-10 adults, and 12 grandchildren who were all very young - every holiday for dinner.  We were crammed in there like Miss Piggy's feet in stilettos.  But, it was the best.  We always looked forward to Christmas Eve night, Easter Sunday after church, and Thanksgiving at noon (or 1:00 if you're a Barcafer.)  :)


This day, we looked over letters, magazines, furniture, magazines, knick-knacks, magazines, costume jewelry, magazines, clothes, etc...  None of us wanted to be presumptuous enough to ask for anything.  She raised her girls right!  All very (at least that I know of) conscientious of their sisters' feelings.  But, when I was asked what I might want, I knew what it was I wanted...

I wanted that pot!  That crock-pot was the HOLY GRAIL OF CROCK-POTS.  I'm not even messing around here.  Listen to me people, you cannot know the joy that comes out of this wonderful ceramic, electrified, pot!  Pork roasts, pot-roasts, to kill people over.  Seriously, I think it came to that one time.  Really.  You don't believe me?  Well, okay, maybe not.  But, man.


One day while I was in college, I called Grandmama and Papa Tang to check in...

"Hello, Papa!  Whatcha doin'?"

"Pressin'"

"You're pressing?"

"Pressin' my butt-cheeks to this chair!"

"Oh, Papa!"

"Oh, Papa!"  (he raised his voice and mimicked me)

"What's Grandmama doing?"

"She's about to put a pot-roast on the table."

"I'll be there in 15 minutes - wait for me!"

(Chuckle) "We'll do - Lil' Sug."

I remember that day like it was yesterday, and oh how I wish it were yesterday.  I miss them so incredibly much.  So, so, much.  They were the warmest, friendliest,  most nonjudgemental, God-loving people on the planet.  And, they loved me.  Boy, did they love me!  They called me "Lil' Sug" for goodness sakes!  At all times.  The only time I heard either of them refer to me by my real name was when Papa Tang would sing "Kimberley" to the tune of "Tenderly."  Or, when he would say, "Kimberley...Denise...ROTTEN!"

That day, as we sat there, me completely devouring ever drip of gravy, every tender, juicy bite of roast, the carrots that were so good they were like dessert (man...Pavlov's dog going on here), I told Grandmama...

"Grandmama, if I'm ever on death row, and they ask me what I want as my last meal, I'm going to tell them - MY grandmother's pot-roast!"

Without batting an eye, not even asking WHY I was on death-row, she paused and said, "I'd make it for you........and, I'd take my time!"

Then, she winked at me.  

I love my Grandmama and Papa Tang.  My heart hurts right now, that Peanut will never know them on earth. And, Charlie.  Boy, would she have LOVED Charlie!  I physically yearn for them.  In fact, I got one of his flannel shirts that day, and I may just wear it to bed tonight.  I didn't want to be presumptuous, but...


Yeah...I got that POT!!!