Beans And Cornbread

 I’m of the understanding, I am not the only one that hates this time change. Many of my friends are talking about going to bed early not realizing the time. It has me pondering a few things with the dark thirty season.

I don’t think there was ever a time mama didn’t cook. When I was little, she cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner. As I grew and the older siblings started moving out the cooking started slowing down because mom had decided it was time to go to nursing school. 

I say it slowed but it in reality morphed. It moved to grab something for breakfast, lunch was during school hours and she cooked supper. Anyone that ever sat at my parents table could be assured of a few things. 1. The blessing would be said 2. Daddy would say “if you don’t see it, don’t ask for it, cause we ain’t got it” 3. There was always plenty no matter who walked in the door.  

My best and most comforting memory of supper at home is one of this time of year. We ate it often but something about the memory of time change and supper when it was dark. Without fail after school whether it was playing with Annie, Lisa or Brian or band practice, play practice or show group practice you could bet I was out til suppertime. It would be those evenings where as the sun crept down it would get cooler and cooler. Our cheeks would be rosy red from the hard play and cool air. We could hear our names being called and knew the time, although none of us wore a watch. 

As I would bust through the door looking forward to what was to come an aroma met me there that would surely make the fullest man want more. The aroma of pinto beans and cornbread. 

Ahhhhh, the sheer mention of them makes my heart smile and the smell tingle my memories. The steamy air would seem like a sauna after such outside fun. I knew there would be meatloaf, mac and cheese, fried or mashed potatoes and probably something green that I wouldn’t touch. After the hands were washed and the drink poured, grace said, heaven awaited. That first piece of cornbread was so hot to touch it was the perfect time to put some butter on it. As it quickly melted the other dishes were passed around the table making sure that daddy had everything there was to offer. It was then the cornbread was crumbled onto the plate. The beans had just had enough time to stop their boil. They were then heaped via a ladle onto the awaiting cornbread with just the right amount of juice. If your mouth isn’t watering at the thought of this I’m not sure we are friends. This particular meal has and will always be my absolute favorite meal hands down. Comfort food on a cool night. Dark thirty and we are gathered around the table. I’m sure we are talking about the latest death in Whitfield county or maybe what mischievousness I had managed to get myself in to. The point being there was never silence at the Patterson table. This hour was more important in that particular moment than any other throughout the day.

This was the time of day where thoughts were shared, punishments rendered, money discussed and girl/boyfriends were entertained. I even told my daddy my first dirty joke at the supper table! Mom made sure we had what we wanted/needed before she even sat down. Sixty minutes of the day. Unlike any other sixty minutes in the last 1440 minutes we were here as a family. Wasn’t always a fun 60 minutes but as a parent myself I can see the importance and the bonds that were formed that last a lifetime at that table. 

Time change… one simple hour. The scope of one hour can make or break a child. That hour could be spent in the floor playing with their grandparent. That hour can be spent reading about your favorite characters latest escapades. The hour of darkness can be used to light candles and tell ghost stories. The quicker the sun goes down the sooner you can light the campfire and enjoy the stars. Camping is another family story for another time. 

What can you do on an hour to enhance your life and the ones around you? In sixty seconds you could sit at the bedside of your parent as they tell all kinds of tales. One hour of space and time can alter your world and the world of others in unimaginable ways. Spending one hour with family is never wasted. One hour with pintos and cornbread can serve as a comforting memory for this aging woman.