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Time Slips Away

Or "Rednecks, Solemn Moments and Pan Fried Cornbread"

by Uncle Hiram


As I sit here at my desk with my tie loosened and my sleeves rolled up I cant help but reflect on how time slips away from us when we aint looking. This weekend I had the unhappy honor of serving as one of the Pall Bearers at my Grandmother's funeral.

As I sat in the reception are of the funeral home Saturday night my thoughts wandered the back roads of my memories. I remembered with pleasure the summers my brother, sister, 3 cousins and I spent with Grandma. How huge her car must have been because 5 of us kids could fit in the back seat on the way to Kips Big Boy for a hot fudge sundae. Sleeping on quilt pallets in the living room and waking up to the smell of frying bacon and fresh baked biscuits. Helping Grandma serve food to the men that were helping Grandpa build a new church when I was about six. Listening to her simple but honest stories about her family and growing up as a poor farm girl in East Texas. The look of undisguised and unconditional love in her eyes every time we went to visit.

I remember her Corn Cob Jelly and her monster cookies and how no one else in the family could ever make them as good as she did.

I can remember the loving but firm tone of her voice when she scolded me for buying the motorcycle. I can remember trudging out to the tree in her front yard to "Fetch her a Switch" and the summer of 1969 when I had to fetch so many switch's the tree almost died.

I remember the pride in her eyes when I graduated from High School a year and a half early and the pain in them when I told her I wasn't going to the graduation ceremony.

I remember the big smile on her face the first time I came home in uniform and the joy in her words as she told me about the proud military heritage of the Moore family.

I remember Family get togethers at her house for thanksgiving. All the Aunts and Uncles and cousins would show up and Grandma would have the men take the doors off their hinges to use as tables in the front yard. I remember her putting out all the food and using a big wooded spoon to slap the hands of any of us kids that tried to sneak a cookie before dinner.

Sunday afternoon we all got together again. All the Uncles, Aunts and cousins showed up. I doubt that I'm the only one that choked up when Uncle Horace started setting the doors in the front yard to use as tables. I know I'm not the only one of the grandchildren that smiled when we saw the "Kiddy Table" and remembered Grandma telling us someday our kids would be at that table and we would be sitting at the "Big People's" Table.

Sunday afternoon while my whole family watched two of my cousins, three of my nephews and I escorted Grandma on her last trip. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

It just seems like yesterday that Grandma was frying cornbread and cooking beans for us and telling us to be patient, we would be adults fast enough. It's sad how time slips away while we aren't looking.

This column is dedicated to Zonia Mayola Moore 1917 -2000, Revered Grandmother and the Biggest "Soft Touch" I ever begged a cookie out of.

- Adios and Keep Smiling!

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About the Author
"I am not rich or famous so I don't have a pre-prepared Bio written by some high paid ghost rider. So I will just give Yall the relevant facts."

- Bill Hocutt (Uncle Hiram)

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