Picture it, a lazy summer morning in a small Appalachian hamlet. The musty fog has just burned off, giving way to the slow rising heat of the long humid day ahead. You're nine years old, sleeping in a bed that is bigger and cozier than any bed you have ever slept in, with fresh linens, and the light scent of eucalyptus in the air. - it's a magical time in your life, you just don't know it yet.

You know Grandma is in the kitchen because you can smell the wafting, scrumptious scent of greasy bacon, flat sausages and buttery biscuits. Mmmmm...you imagine the feast that is awaiting you, along with orange juice and an ice cold RC Cola (it's a Southern thing), and you wish that moment would never end.

And it’s only 7:30am.

Grandma complains to your mother saying, “Your kids sleep too late in the morning”, to which you overhear your mother respond, “Well, it’s summer, school’s out, and they should sleep if they need it.”

The conversation stops dead, because in the South, being polite is of utmost importance.

You finally drag yourself out of bed because air conditioning hasn’t made it’s way to the mainstream of middle America, and you begin to feel the bed sheets stick to you because of the rapidly rising thermometer of summer. You make your way to the bathroom, and squish your bare feet on the carpeted bathroom floor, and think this is luxurious. Who puts carpet in their bathroom?

The corner of your eye spies an Electrolux vacuum cleaner peering out from the drape that acts as a door to a bathroom closet, and you think to yourself, just how old is that thing?

You wash your hands for breakfast, but not before you peer into Grandma’s magical world of Avon, Aqua Net, bobby pins and foam curlers nestled underneath her bathroom sink, and you wonder, how could anyone need so much ‘stuff’.

The picture you are imagining is a frame from my fantastic childhood. Grandma Joyce was always a well-put-together woman who bequeathed to me that no matter the situation, you should always look your best, and care for people – just because. She didn’t actually tell me this; I observed it. Lesson learned.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized it was not only the wisdom of Grandma Joyce that taught me this lesson, it was also my own mother. She had learned the lesson from Gram, and she also passed it along to me.

I’m taking this long trip down memory lane because of a recent incident that happened to Paula Deen (who reminds me of my aunt Geneva – big laugh, big hair and oh, so chic.



But the part of the video that grabs me the most is Paula’s down-home-no-nonsense, awe-shucks kind of attitude. That part reminds me of my mother. My mother is a very proper woman, but can let loose with a quick quip when the moment calls for it, and is not afraid to make fun of herself – true testament that she is comfortable in her own skin, much like I am. Once when watching a commercial for Wheat Thins, with Sandy Dunkin lauding the healthful, non-fat benefits of eating the crunchy treats, mom commented, “Oh please, she wouldn’t know fat if she fell in it!”

Enough said. Again, lesson learned. Go, Paula! Go Mom! Go Grandma!