Shellie Rushing Tomlinson
Hello porchers. I'm here, you're back. I say we chat. ~smile~
So, how is everyone? If I look a little worn around the edges, that
would be because I am. Lately, there's been more to do in any one day
than a person can shake a stick at, and I've been burning some night
oil to get it all in. Which reminds me, there's an old saying around
here: "Make hay while the sun shines." I'm about to heed it for a
change and quit when the sun does!
Changing the subject, today was the first day of the corn harvest and
I just got back from taking pictures for the farm tour. Phil has been
patiently cutting samples and taking them to the elevator for several
days and the moisture finally got right. (If the moisture level is too
high, the elevator will dock you. Trust me, a farmer can't afford to be
docked. The market does a good enough job trying to make sure we can't
make a profit as it is!) But, enough of that! Although it wouldn't take
much to get me on my favorite soap box--the plight of the American farmer--
that's not where I was going. I was about to say that if you compare
the harvest photo of the corn to the close-ups of the beans and rice, you might
notice that the corn picture looks a little grainy. That would be the dust
in the air from Phil unloading the corn into the grain cart. That would
also be the same dust that's currently in my eyes, ears and throat. I'm
looking forward to a good hot shower as soon as I get the site updated.
And to think--the men breathe it in all day long! They'll be in sometime
after dark, looking like PigPen and PigPen Junior.
Before I let you get on with this week's southern celebration, I must
apologize. I got a little long-winded in this issue. This should not be
considered a wave of the future. ~smile~ I realize y'all are busy people
and you can't read a novel in your inbox. It's just that I won't be here
next Thursday. Yep! You heard right. I'm skipping an issue. This is the
last time I'll "see" you before I hit the airwaves Tuesday, September,
the 3rd. So, please, don't go jumping off the porch because I've rambled
on a bit. Humor me this one time, okay? Until next time...
Hugs,
Shellie
P.S. Check the news button below for a surprise!
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~~Chuckles~~
"Prioritizing Preschool"
Dear Ma and Pa:
Am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marines
beats working for Old Man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick
'fore maybe all the places are filled.
I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed 'til nearly 6 a.m.,
but I'm gettin' so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you
do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things--no hogs to
slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically
nothing. You gotta shave, but it ain't bad in warm water.
Some of the funniest stories are often the true ones...
Recently a friend of mine was talking to her three-year-old son, Bryce,
preparing him for his very first day of preschool. She covered everything
she could think of, who his teacher would be, how he should raise his
hand before speaking, etc.
Bryce listened patiently. When his mother concluded her talk on what she
felt was the first-day essentials, Bryce cut to the heart of the matter.
"Mama," he said, "I've just got two questions. How big is the slide and
who is my football coach going to be?"
~Special thanks to Stephanie from Louisiana for this week's chuckle.
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~~A Taste of the South~~
"Front Porch Peas"
It has been brought to my attention that there are no pea recipes in
the archives and not everyone on the porch knows how to cook peas.
Consider me properly chastised. I even used frozen peas for those of
you who don't have fresh ones in the freezer.
"Front Porch Peas"
• 1 Large onion, chopped
• 1 to 2 Tablespoons of bacon drippings
• 2 pounds frozen black-eyed peas
• 1 ham hock
• salt to taste
Saute' onion in bacon drippings; add peas, ham hock and water to cover.
Simmer until peas are tender, about 2-3 hours. Remove ham and salt
to taste. If you really want to eat right, make sure there's dill
relish and Panola Hot Sauce on the table when you serve 'em. Now, you're
eating Southern!
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~~Spotlight on the South~~
SPOTLIGHT ON GRADY "BUBBER" BROWN AND PANOLA PEPPER CORPORATION
It's a hot August morning in the Delta, the sort that lets you know right off that you'll find it hard to breathe outside by noon, the kind of day that inspires most people to look for a shade tree and a tall glass of tea. The folks at Panola aren't most people. By the time I arrive at this thrice-built company, nestled between two cotton fields off Highway 65 in Lake Providence, Louisiana, Panola Pepper Corporation is buzzing. The assembly line is moving and the trucks are loading. Grady, "Bubber" Brown is overseeing the distribution of his mother's secret hot sauce, along with a product line of thirty other foods, seasonings, sauces and novelties, destined to ship all over the States and in many countries overseas. Up front in the business offices, his wife, Jennie Lou, and the rest of the office staff, work to the steady music of ringing phones, faxes, and modems. If this sounds like a typical plant story, just another industry promotion, hold on. It's far from it. My tale doesn't start with the present day success of Panola Pepper Corporation. The story of Panola goes much deeper and it's one that symbolizes the spirit of the South, to make something of the ashes, to persevere, to morph into something better. You see, Grady "Bubber" Brown is Panola Corporation, and Panola Corporation is Bubber Brown-to understand either you have to look at both. And that, my fellow porchers, is where this story starts.
Lots of people get knocked down and get back up again. Successful people forget how to count. Bubber Brown is a member in good standing of the second group. In 1961, fresh from a stint in the Navy flying fighter planes, Bubber Brown returned to Northeast, Louisiana to help his mother, Miss Martha, manage the family farm. Panola Plantation had been in his family for well over a hundred years. Bubber set to work clearing 3,000 more acres, taking down fences and selling the cattle, all the while establishing a reputation as an innovator, a risk taker who went into new adventures with a wise business head and the guts to try things that others wouldn't. He was the first to double crop rice in a part of the state where tradition held that "it couldn't be done in this part of the country". He got into crawfish and out of crawfish. He laughs now telling how much trouble he had finding workers to wade through the snake-infested rice fields to harvest the little critters. "It was a good idea," Bubber says, "I just failed to develop a market." Bubber admits that mistakes don't bother him, he just tries not to repeat them. That one marketing lesson would serve him well in the years to come.
Along with the land, Bubber took over a process that was familiar in the southern part of the state but quite foreign to the northeast corner--mixing up batches of his mother's famous hot sauce. For many years Bubber's mother, Martha Wyly Brown, well known as a gourmet cook, had been making her much loved hot sauce and in the best tradition of southern hospitality, giving it away to family and friends. As the sauce's acclaim grew, she found herself cooking it in ever-increasing batches. Bubber and his siblings had helped their mother cook, store and give away sauce all during their growing up years. Making the sauce was nothing new; his idea to mass-produce and sell it was as maverick as Bubber himself. Bubber admits that he worried whether people would like the hot sauce as much when they had to pay for it.
Southerners make no excuses for their life long love of food. They're passionate about sharing a good meal with loved ones. They also treasure family recipes and gladly share them--as long as credit is given to the original cook. True to form, when Bubber and Jennie Lou first talked about selling the hot sauce, they wanted to call it "Mama's Hot Sauce" and put her picture on the label. Miss Martha squelched that idea, and "Panola Pepper Sauce" it became.
In 1983 Grady "Bubber" Brown and his wife Jennie Lou stood beside their employees, hand screwing the caps on, hand labeling the bottles and boxing them for shipment. A small machine filled three bottles at a time. They were in business. Hot sauce is almost synonymous to the south. It's found in restaurants and homes alike and used to enliven almost every food imaginable. Bubber had found a ready-made market--breaking into it was something else entirely. Three years later, in November of 1986, their little plant was moving at full steam and they were still learning the ins and outs of getting their product on the grocery shelves, when a fire totally destroyed the old plantation home that housed their pride and joy. They could have taken the insurance money, cut their losses, chalked it up to fate and turned their attention back to the family farm full time. Some people would have. Bubber said, "Once I start something I don't like to quit." Five months later, they held their "ReGrand Opening".
Southerners like to get together. Heck, we even call 'em "get-togethers". On April 8th, 1987, Bubber and Jennie Lou threw a get-together for the ages, an old-fashioned hoe-down for friends, family and community--and anyone else who wanted to stop by. Free food and drink were provided in abundance, along with entertainment by local musicians, all set up under the seldom-used shade trees out front. Radio and television stations broadcast live and Bubber was able to, "show the world what a north Louisiana hot sauce factory looks like."
When Bubber Brown talks about his love for Panola Plantation, it naturally evolves to include his affection for his community and his neighbors. "This is my little heaven on earth…Panola…Lake Providence…East Carroll Parish." That's the kind of talk that breathes fresh air into a Delta town that struggles with economic depression and the negative publicity that comes with it.
It is this commitment to family, friends and community and the love of the land that testifies of the heart of the southerner everywhere, and this one in particular. For Panola Pepper Corporation and Bubber were soon to be tested again. Last year, a second fire ravaged the Brown's factory and once again, the choice of rebuilding stood before him. Having now proven himself a recognized force in the hot sauce market, Bubber could have called it quits on his own merits, or taken his plant and rebuilt just about anywhere he wanted. His loyalty to East Carroll Parish and his love for Panola Plantation proved strong enough bonds to hold him here. This past June another ReGrand Opening was held to celebrate yet another reconstruction, both bigger and better than the ones that came before.
There's no denying that Panola's success is built on the quality and taste of their products. Still, many good products fail to make it over the long haul. Maybe Panola found it's share of the market because Bubber and Jennie Lou understand that good cooking, family, and friends can't be separated. Maybe it's because they've approached their business with honesty and a commitment to deliver the best service to their customers, a commitment fueled with work, sweat, and risks. Undoubtedly, it must be all of the above.
I've known and appreciated the unique flavor of Panola products for a long time and I've always admired Bubber and Jennie Lou. After the second fire, when Mr. Bubber rebuilt here--when he could have moved and rebuilt his plant anywhere he wanted, I was grateful on behalf of our town and our economy. I've been planning on "spotlighting" Panola Hot Sauce for a long time, long before Panola Pepper Corporation became one of the sponsors of the All Things Southern Radio Show. After spending several days with these people, and seeing where they started and just what fortitude it took to be where they are, I only regret that I've not done it sooner. Allow me to tip my hat to you, Mr. Bubber. Thank you for a fine product line, thanks for the sponsorship, and thanks for rebuilding in Lake Providence. But more than any of that--thank you for the inspiration and hope that grows between the cotton fields of Panola Plantation on Holland Delta Road.
~Shellie
Why don't you take a moment to see the Panola Products in the online store. Mr. Bubba and Mrs. Jennie
Lou have created some special giftboxes just for All Things Southern and given me some great
prices to pass on to my porchers. The prices you see there include shipping anywhere in the states. ~smile~ I'm hoping a whole slew of you will try a box. It would be a fantastic gesture to show these fine folks that you appreciate them
sponsoring the Radio Show. Thank you so much!
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~~It's Been Said...~~
"What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have
done for others and the world remains and is immortal."
----Albert Pike
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~~Southern Comfort~~
"The Art of Communication"
When Phillip and Jessica were born neither of them could talk.
Can you believe that? It irritated me. It was even worse when
they began to form silly little syllables like "ma-ma" and "da-da".
I'm telling you, I had no patience for it. I decided right then
not to give them a single thing they asked for until they could
learn to ask for it correctly! Jessica, being the oldest, eventually
learned to talk before Phillip and that was nice. After that, I didn't
care if he learned or not. I mean, I could always just talk to Jessica.
Ridiculous, you say! Was I crazy? No, I'm just trying to make a
point. I didn't really respond that way at all. On the contrary, like
you, I hung on every sound my babies made. Why, when they began to talk
in one and two word sentences, I couldn't have been more impressed by
the world's best orators.
I think you see where I'm going with this, don't you? We can act so
silly sometimes. A lot of people say they don't pray because they don't
know how or what they should say. They act as if their Father is going
to respond like that make-believe me above.
The Word teaches otherwise. It says our prayers are a delight to the
Father--just like the first words of our kids are to us. Our children
learned to talk one word at a time. If they had never spoken because it
was too hard to master the language, they'd be handicapped now without
the ability to communicate. Instead, because they did learn to express
themselves, we've been able to communicate. My husband, Phil, and I have
had some delightful conversations with them, (and some that weren't so
delightful, if you know what I mean.) Nevertheless, we've been able to
answer their questions, explain to them about the world around them, and
guide them as they grew up.
If you're a baby Christian, or maybe a believer who's never developed a
prayer life, there's no time like the present. I urge you to begin now to
talk to your Father. Yeah, He has a lot of kids to talk to and I'm sure
Billy Graham and the Pope can both talk His ear off. But you know what?
They can't take your place and He's waiting to talk just to you.
~Shellie
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~~Southern Exchange~~
Your letters:
Dear Shellie,
I'd like my fellow Porcher's to hear about one of my favorite people, my
son Caleb. This is the short version.
Jan. 29th 20001, we found that Caleb, age 18, had a tumor growing from
inside his brain stem. The portion that was outside the brain stem was
large enough that it pressed the stem against the opening through which
it passes out of the skull. This was causing such severe headaches that
he had to quit college, and could not work.
A wonderful neuro-surgeon, Dr. Jay Morgan, decided to remove that portion
of the tumor outside the stem of the brain. Were the tumor to press hard
enough it would shut off the spine resulting in death.
The night before the surgery my wife Sandy, Caleb, and I were talking about
the surgery and what could happen. I am a Registered Nurse and worked in
surgery for several years, so I was preparing them for all the good and bad
outcomes. The worst of course was death. We asked Caleb how he felt about
that possibility. He thought a bit and then said, "Well, for me it's ok, if
I die I'll be with the Lord and that's good. But I know that you and mom
will miss me and that makes me sad." A little later we asked what he wanted
done if he didn't make it. His response was immediate. "Part me out (his way
of saying donate any of his organs), cremate me, and put my ashes in a
Scooby-Doo mug and set me on the mantle." This from an 18 year old who knows
the Lord as his personal Savior and trusts Him so much that he could face
brain surgery with a light heart.
The surgery was a success, although there has been a long and on-going recovery
period. The nerve pathways to Caleb's left side are still a bit messed up. There
is still a lot to overcome but with the Lord's help and a lot of friends' prayers
we keep going forward. There is much more to tell, but the point is with the
Lord in the center of your life you can lay it all at his feet and go on with
His peace.
Warm regards,
Charles (Shilo) Reeves II
Stagecoach, Nevada
(Dear Shilo, I'm honored to let you tell the porchers Caleb's story. He sounds
like one neat young man. Please tell him I'm adding my prayers to yours for
his continued recovery. ~Hugs, Shellie)
__________________
Hi Shellie,:)
I just wanted to let you know that I was thrilled and very blessed to meet you
the other weekend at the conference! (I wasn't surprised that you are tall, I
actually rather expected that, btw!) I hope you had a good time and got what
you needed from the Lord there. I spent too much money and was exhausted when I
got home, but I'm glad I made the effort to attend and take my daughter.
I hope you're having a good week and summer! I'm gonna go pour me some more
pink lemonade. :)
Love and prayers,
Ellen *hug*
Camden, Arkansas
(Dear Ellen, The feeling is so mutual! It's always fun for me to run into a
porcher. Oh, yes, I thoroughly enjoyed the conference. It was my first time to
hear Joyce Meyers in person and I'm still "chewing" on her practical lessons.
~Hugs, Shellie)
___________________
Dear Shellie
Thanks for the e-zine! It's great! I was born and lived in Texas and moved all
around, living in Louisiana, Mississippi and one year in Missouri. I married a
man from Arkansas, and lived there for 8 years. I guess Texas is still the
original stomping grounds, so to speak. Now, we're in Arizona on the Navajo
reservation where we are pastoring a church.
Love,
Peggy in Arizona
(Dear Peggy, It must be very fulfilling to do what you and your husband are
doing. I have a special place in my heart for anyone of Indian descent. Maybe
I'll tell the porch about my own Indian blood one day. Thanks for writing
in and please, give my best to your congregation.~Hugs, Shellie)
__________________
Dear Shellie,
I did so enjoy your book. I laughed, I cried and I remembered. What a wonderful
childhood you and your sisters shared. I, too, have two sisters, and being the
oldest, I could identify with Cyndie. I suppose there are certain traits that
all older siblings have in common.
It was certainly a pleasure to see you at the signing and I know my son, Christian,
will enjoy his copy. I wish you well and look forward to more of your writing.
Warmest regards,
Sandra Huber
Natchez, Mississippi
(Dear Sandra, I'm so glad you enjoyed my book. I always say that if anyone enjoys
reading the stories half as much as I did writing them, it'll be time well spent.
I enjoyed seeing you in Natchez, too. Forgive me for taking so long to get your
letter in the Exchange. ~Hugs, Shellie)
__________________
Hi Shellie,
I just read "The Ten Commandments of Grits" and noticed the many admonitions not
to put syrup or sugar on grits. Although I've always put butter on oatmeal, cream
of wheat, Malt-o-Meal, etc., I always wondered why I never liked sugar on it. My
father grew up in Tennessee, and maybe your little piece gives me a clue.
Thanks for the newsletter--I love it and it really does help me understand my
heritage.
Julie
San Francisco, California
(Dear Julie, Thanks for letting me know that little old ATS was able to shine some
light on your heritage. That's high praise, for sure! I do think my head is
swelling. *grin* ~Hugs, Shellie)
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~~A Southern Definition~~
"If you never tried to dig your own swimming pool and fill it up
with the water hose, only to end up with a mud hole instead...you could have been a girly-girl."
----Shellie Rushing Tomlinson
~Thanks to Lisa Spears in Vidalia, Louisiana for the memory.
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ATS NEWS and NOTES:
Notes:
Many of you have written me asking what you can do for me here at ATS. And let me
say for the record, I love you for it! With that thought, this is for those
who are excited about my current project, "What Southern Moms Tell Their
Daughters". Everyone else can just skim over this part. :-) I've got a ton of
submissions for the book--but I still need more. I want it to be running
over with good southern wisdom. Click here to find out how you can help spread
the word about this book. http://www.allthingssouthern.com/spreadit.html
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WHAT SOUTHERN MOMS TELL THEIR DAUGHTERS...
About love and marriage: "It's just as easy to fall in love
with a rich man as it is a poor one!" Do you remember your
southern mom's advice about love,marriage, relationships and
life in general? Then join the fun; this project is exploding!
Write me at tomtom@allthingssouthern.com to have your mom's
advice memorialized in my new book: WHAT SOUTHERN MOMS TELL
THEIR DAUGHTERS...
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