Steve Patterson: Sundays on Grandma’s porch

With a nod to William Faulkner and O. Henry, guest author Steve Patterson recalls poignant lessons learned on Grandma’s porch.

I well remember my grandmother getting up so early Sunday mornings the sun was not even up, so the horizon was just awakening with the slightest glimmer of red, a dash of orange and a sliver of beautiful blue hues all working in harmony to sublimely suggest it was ready to burst out in all its glory, making it the finest time of all to be up, and out of routine she would punctiliously put her huge King James Bible, with her family tree prominently displayed in the front on her flour dusted apron clad lap and sit right down on the faded green glider on the front porch with her coffee and a round silver tin of Red Rooster sweet snuff, then summon everyone with long, loud, sing-song calls to scurry to the porch where we would sit on the floor at her feet all shivery and huddled around her, and she would ring her dainty deep blue China bell that gave no more than a faint tinkle, signaling us to hush up and pay close attention for we knew it was time for her to tell us one of her poignant life lessons she always told us every single morning of our young lives whenever we slept over, but we all knew this one would be one of the most special, important of all coming now as we completed the run up to that always crisp cool first Sunday in September: “My beautiful little darlings you must always remember and must never forget those dad gum Ole Miss Rebels will break your precious, sweet little hearts every dog gone year,” she would sternly advise knowing full well that this was one lesson that would have to be repeated each year as we rushed out the door all dressed up in our Sunday best to what back then we called “Sabbath School” where we would be taught life lessons that our young hearts would more easily embrace!

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