So, my dirty secret.. One that damn near no one knows. Why the hell am I broadcasting this? Because someone I loved very, very much died. And I just found out. And I have no other way to process it honestly.
I was mad as hell that I found out after the fact and couldn’t be there for the funeral. Pissed beyond belief actually. Fucking livid and reaching for the wine.. So if I ramble you understand why. Chardonnay disabled.
So the dirty secret, as it were- I had a “Mammy”.. Her name was Marybelle, and I loved her just as much as I ever did my own mother. A liberal, mouthy bitch that hates any sort of bigotry had a Mammy., I must say that was never a term used in my house, I just don’t know how the hell else to explain it to anyone that can’t relate. She was always referred to as Miss Marybelle, having never married, this was an appropriate terminology in that place and time, which had nothing to do with color. Give me as much shit as you wish, you disrespect her and I’ll launch your ass into a new time zone.
You may find it hard to fathom after digesting that- but I had a pretty color neutral upbringing. Most especially for a little girl growing up in North Carolina in the 60’s. Use the “N” word- I’d have gotten the taste slapped right out of my mouth in a second. I’m not saying it was some sort of totally enlightened state of affairs.. But I have to say, given the time and place and most especially the circumstances of their respective upbringings, the parents were pretty damn liberal and went to great lengths to made damn good and sure we never got any of those crazy racist ideas into our heads.
She loved me, cared for me and until the serious dementia set in, we never lost touch. She loved me, loved my babies and never, ever gave a damn that I happened to be white and I never, ever gave a damn that she happened to be black. I was and always would be her child of the heart, as she so sweetly put it, and she was my Mamma of the heart. Folks at the AME church would look at us a little funny when she brought me to services, but after a while I just ended up being just another one of the little people playing in the front after services.. That’s where I learned to sing.. Daddy was a musician of sorts, but gave it up to make a living. Music was a big part of our life always, and to his credit it was broad and varied. But to sing from my heart- that’s where I learned to just let it go and belt it out.. And yes Brother James, I still do, thanks for the encouragement.
I found out many years later she caught some crap from the deacons for bringing a skinny little white girl to services. And typically she said, “That child’s color means nothing to me, so it shouldn’t to you.” Marybelle, the only thing that ever mattered to me was how much you loved me, and how much I loved you. I still make your special spice cake, and the children call it Miss Belle’s Special Cake, and every time it’s in the oven I smile and remember, and I feel a huge and unconditional love settle around me. The rest of the world might not understand, to hell with them- I was so blessed to have more than one mother and I do no justice to the amazing person you were.. But I love you with all my heart, and I’m thankful I was lucky enough to have you there to love me.. And as soon as I get home tomorrow from dropping the boy off at camp, I’m baking a spice cake- just so I know you’re still here with me.
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4 comments:
What is in the air this weekend? Awesome posts from Bigassbelle, I need More Cowbell, and now you have my tear ducts working too! What a fortunate child you were to have two mommies who cared so much about you! This post was just amazing, and heartfelt, and painted such a warm image in my mind. I had the opportunity as a child to go to some African American Babtist churches inTulsa, and it was an amazing experience. I gained an appreciation of Gospel music that has never let me go, even in my worst bouts with God and Religion. I wish you would post the recipe for that Spice cake, I find myself wanting to bake one to her memory, too. Beautiful post, thank you!
oh honey, what a sweet, sweet thing. and mammy is just the term, the relationship's the important thing. this is a precious thing you shared, especially as it came out of that crazy time of change. bless you and bless you precious friend. she will always be a part of you as you were of her. so sorry for your loss.
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Followed Tater's site directly to you, and love the fact that this is the first story I read. Wow -- just incredible. So sorry for your loss, but not for your experience ...
(I've got three mommies myself, so I know from experience that we can handle just about as much lovin' as we can get our hands on ...)
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