Cranks My Tractor

Published: Thursday, October 31, 2013 at 09:07 AM.

I loved the sign, but my fondest memories will be the man with the big knife whomping barbecue, sliding it to the side, whomping more and the distinctive Southern savory smell.  I will also remember what I ordered.  “I would like a barbecue plate, outside.”  They knew what I meant.  I wanted the meat from the outside that looked like a crusty bark.

After moving to Virginia, I went in the barbecue place that folks around Williamsburg proclaimed was “the best.”  They definitely had a lot of customers and had soda waters in big buckets of ice, but I think they have gotten to be such a big deal; they’ve had to hire “Non-BBQ People.”

The reason I say this is because the first time I asked for a “barbecue plate outside,” they told me, “We do have picnic tables outside.”  I was stunned.  I didn’t even respond.  There was no use in causing a problem.

Bless these folks’ hearts; they didn’t know what outside meat was.  I’m sure they’ve never heard of Lurleen or Cornelia Wallace and the only thing that comes to mind when they hear the name George Wallace is a black and white film clip, possibly even thinking Forrest Gump was there when it happened.

The sounds and the smells are worth remembering; they are worth saving.  They were part of growing up.

I saw the cutest bow on this little girl’s head the other day (and she had on a smocked dress).  I could tell she was from “good people.”  I bet her mama knows how to make good cornbread (and her daddy can tie that bow in her hair if he needs to).

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