My name is Martha White
I am from:
Two worlds, the North and the South
Both with green rolling foothills, on the edge of mountains with trailer homes next to farms, next to mansions.
The northern mountains, cold and crisp, the smell of pines and disquieting sound of a loon over water
The southern mountains muggy with heat, deafening with the sound of cicadas and beautiful on foggy mornings
I am from:
Yankee parents – driven, opinionated, educated, and “It’s 5 o’clock somewhere.”
Southern friends – neighbor kids who taught me to climb trees, ride a bike, roller skate, eat baloney and say, “Bless his heart.”
I am from:
Maple syrup candy made on packed snow, potatoes and onions cooked over a campfire, turkey with oyster dressing and homemade bread crafted by dad to the sound of Beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff and mom’s meatloaf accompanied by Bobby Bare singing “Drop kick me Jesus through the goalposts of life.”
I am also from fresh shrimp straight from the gulf, sweet and firm, biscuits with honey and butter dripping from fingers, fried catfish with crunchy, oniony, hot hushpuppies and Derby Pie with so much bourbon I pretend to feel tipsy.
I am from my past and my present:
Christmas past meant neighborhood block parties, sledding down Devil’s Backbone, choosing Christmas presents from the Sears Catalog, spotty attendance at the Church of the Holy Ghost. I am from our tight family of seven and the strays my parents gathered at holidays.
Christmas present means less family who still gather close. New realities mean new memories. We cherish the time together but still have more food than we can eat.
I am from my family – from “Do as I say, not as I do…” to “There is always room for one more.” I am from the wars my father fought and the battles my mother lost…from the ways in which they loved and supported us and to the ways in which we fell through the cracks. I am from love and neglect, from resentment and joy, from disappointment and pride, and from deep sorrow and joyous laughter.
I am from New England stock with an iconic southern name. The irony does not escape me.
Martha White is a writing tutor and library assistant at Hopkinsville Community College, and along with her husband, David Martin, they own Free Range Flowers at Martin Farm where they grow all the flowers they sell at the Downtown Hopkinsville Farmers Market and use when they design for weddings during the growing season. Check out their website at www.freerangeflowers.net.
