my izard county roots

(Cousins!)

(Porch sitting & photo sharing)

(The green, green grass of home)

(My sweet cousin Anna and I in front of my grandparents old house in the country)

Written by
Crickit Caputo

I recently returned from a family reunion in Arkansas.

It was held in a small town, down at the "the place in the country."

Now, to you-- that may sound pretty vague. 

But for the folks there, it means--- h.o.m.e.

This is the area where my mother was born,

and her parents before her, and their parents--

well, you guessed it -- before them.

My roots go deep into the Arkansas soil. 

Izard County, in fact.

But I am a California girl, born and raised.

Beaches, mountains and valleys are home to me. 

My grandparents moved their little family of four from Arkansas

 to California when my mom was just three 

and her older sister; nine.  

Better jobs were available in the west, and breathing in

the ocean air, was good for a little girl with asthma.

Although this little family moved away from

the comforts of their home and family in the deep south,

they never forgot their roots.

You don't forget the hospitality of family & friends.

  

  You don't forget the long, hard days working in the fields,

 where the sun--high in the sky, 

beats steadily down on your back and neck.

You don't forget your calloused hands,

as they dug deep into the hard soil to plant and to reap;

crops of vegetables and cotton.

You don't forget the loss of family members at a young age,

 because modern medicine

was not modern enough. ( at that time)

You don't forget girl time with your sister's, in the small country kitchen.
Large pots of water brought to a rolling boil, with glass jars clanking,
as fruit and vegetables are ladled carefully into each jar.
Next-- a scary, dark walk down cement stairs 
to where each jar is placed on the shelf,
 to be consumed in the coming cold winter months. 

 You don't forget family dinners and special occasions

where everyone gathered in the country,

to feast on fried chicken, okra, green beans, fried potatoes,

creamed corn and homemade rolls.

And for dessert--homemade apple and coconut pies.

But you go--

because that is what is best for your family.

You both work diligently and hard while you raise your daughter's.

You are rewarded with two sons-in-law and six grandchildren;
all of them; the apple of your eye.

You reside close by so that you can love on them often.

Then without knowing, you share with them, your southern roots. 

You show them what selflessness looks like.

You give them over and over of your time.

Oh precious time!

You teach them how to be wise with their money,

and that morals & values really mean something. 

You are hospitable and kind. 

You cook southern style meals at every sitting,

because that is all that you have ever known.

 (Oh, how I wish some of that had rubbed off on me!)

You hardly ever sit down to a meal because you

are busy serving others. 

When retirement rewards you with some much

needed rest and renewal,

You make a big decision to move back to your roots,

this time-- just you two.

Your Arkansas family welcomes you back with open arms.

You were sorely missed.

You celebrate your 50th wedding anniversary there. 

You make several journeys back to California,

pulling your home on wheels behind you.

You parked in our driveways--

cooked on our stoves, 

did our laundry and ironing,

spoiled our children,

and continued to leave us with loving memories of you,

way after the time that you left.

You held us all together with your grand-parental glue.

   I thought of you both, last weekend, as I was seated on the back porch swing,

looking out over the sprawling green lawn and fruit trees.

 A plate full of southern cooking sitting in my lap;sweet tea in my hand,

 laughing, as heart-warming and fun stories were told about you. 

Oh, how endeared and loved you are by these folks here!

I felt you both there with me on that day of reunion.

No, you weren't there in the sky or the trees,

but close to me, in my memories. 

 I closed my eyes and could picture you both there--

many years before, sitting on that same back porch,

plates full of southern cooking in your laps,

a bottle of coca cola in your hand,

surrounded by your kin folk--laughing

and living out the stories that would soon be told to me.

I am incredibly blessed to be a part of your family tree.

Your roots were well watered.

And the sunshine--abundant.

Your leaves; although many have flown away, still live on in us all. 

Your trunk-- stable and unwavering.

I hope to go back again someday-- to the South.

Family means everything to me.

I learned that from you.