A Pot O' Beans

This one's on "The Red Neck"
folks.

First, to give credit, or excuses, whichever
may apply,

I need to start with: Though, not wealthy
by any means,

both her mom and dad worked, and so
mostly,

they lived "out of the box." Macaroni and
cheese, canned vegetables, etc, etc.,

You're getting
the picture.

When I came across this young lass, she
was at

the tender age of seventeen. ( I was
twenty-one, a "dirty ole man" )

Naturally, I swept
her off her feet and away

we moved to Decatur,
Texas.

In my "world" if a person couldn't
make

a pan of biscuits, (I mean the old, brown on the
bottom,

big as your fist, cat head biscuits) by the
time you

were seven years old, your mom just
naturally

"knocked" you in the head and told God you
"died."

Never having falling in love enough to
ask

A girl for her hand in marriage
before,

I assumed my world was the only one
out

there, or there might have been a little
less

"sweeping."

Times were hard on
us, but eventually

She found a little "efficiency"
apartment we could

afford. So thanking my little sis
and her husband

for their hospitality, we, again,
moved.

Actually, I was excited, for at last I was
able

To find out what kind of a "woman" I had
married.

To actually see if she knew the ways of my
"world."

I was in "lust" with the girl, but still
hadn't found

out if she could clean house, or sew, or
cook.

(Three major items on my, "to fall in love
with" list)

At last, at last, a place of our
own.

Kissing her goodbye that next morning, I
mentioned

A pot of beans would taste pretty good
that night

with a few fried potatoes and, of course,
a pork chop

Or two.

Working in the
"oil patch" back in those days,

I could never tell
when I might be home, but the idea of

red beans,
fried potatoes and pork chops, waiting for me, filled
my

thoughts all day.

At last, here
I come, dragging my feet in, around

ten P.M. There
she was, my little woman, all decked out

in her
cutest apron. (Get your minds out of the gutter,
guys.

She still had her clothes on under?. Damn
it!)

She takes me to the table and there before my
eyes,

the sweetest spread of vittles, this side of
heaven! Potatoes fried

just right with the slightest
amount of "burn" mixed in.

Mouth watering Pork Chops
sitting on another plate, bones

still sizzling. And
the beans??

Those little buggers were imbedded in the
deepest,

reddest, thickest sauce I had ever seen.
With no remorse,

I screamed, "Good bye Mom" and
headed to the restroom

To clean
up.

I felt I had hit a "Mother Lode" as I washed away
the

grime and oil of the day,

But
that wasn't all. By the time I had washed

and
returned to the table, she was pulling a pan
of

biscuits from the oven. They may have been from a

can, but I thought "What the hell?" as I sat down to
this feast!

There would be other times when I could
teach her how to cook

"Nichols" style
biscuits.

The potatoes piled high on my
plate.

A pork chop added to the side and last but
not

least, in dark, red juices, "the beans" spread
out

On the "spuds".

I swore I had
died and went to heaven.

Taking one of the biscuits
in hand,

and using the fork in the other, I

dived into this woman made
feast.

The dark red juice dribbled down my
chin,

as I ravenously shoved the bean and
potato

mix between my jaws?.

To
this day I still believe this is the reason

I now
have false teeth! There were half the

rocks in Texas
mixed into those beans.

The great Rocky mountains
were just a pebble

compared to this one bite! The
crunch so hard,

my great grandkids are going to be
born toothless!

Well, maybe I'm blowing it out of
proportion

A mite. Let's just say you could count the
beans easier

than you could the
rocks.

Spitting out the mixture of teeth, spuds, and
beans

I asked her if she had "looked"
them.

In her sweetest look, she asked what I
meant.

I said "sort through them and dig the gravel
and dirt out of them."

She answered, "Oh that. No, I
had always seen mom

look through dried, pinto beans,
but I just thought

she was admiring the designs on
them!"

Hamp Nichols