Homecoming & Dinner On The Ground

Here is an excerpt from my book, "The Queen of Barlow Bend," now available to order on Amazon.

Now if you are from the South, you already know what Homecoming

Sunday is all about. And if you are unfortunate enough to be from

somewhere else, other than the South, I’ll explain Homecoming Sunday. It

is a yearly church event in the South. Every member, present and past, is

invited to attend the special Sunday church service, conducted by a

former favorite minister of the church. In the Methodist Church, ministers

are rotated to other churches. Claude always said she loved hearing the

minister talk about being “called” to another church. She said it must have

been coincidence that the “calling” seemed to always include a larger

congregation and a larger salary.

But Homecoming Sunday was a big event at the little old white church

in Gainestown. During the week before, folks would come from all around

to clean up the cemetery just out back of the church. I would ride over to

the cemetery with Grandmother Jen, trunk of the car loaded with hoes,

rakes and brand-new plastic flower arrangements. Grandmother wanted

all the dirt scraped clean around all the graves. It was hard work making

the graves look good for Homecoming!

The guest minister would preach up a special sermon, then all the

ladies of the church would provide “dinner on the ground.” No, food was

not actually served on the ground. It was served on tables. Miles of old

white painted wooden tables that ran down the side of the church and sat

outside in the weather all year, used only for “dinner on the ground” once

per year.

As the food was spread out on the table for the crowds to serve

themselves, one of the ladies would ask another, “Now which one of

those dishes did you cook? I sure want to try some of your recipe!”

Another would whisper, “Now tell me which one of the dishes is the

one so and so brought. I absolutely refuse to eat anything that came out

of her dirty house! Have y’all seen her kitchen? I just don’t know how the

whole family stays healthy in that nasty place!”

On this particular Homecoming Sunday, Claude wanted to make sure

all of her family was there with her. She had already purchased her new

dress on the shopping trip to Jackson with Mama, so she was ready to go.

My daddy, his brothers and sister, and my grandmother got up and out

early and headed to Barlow Bend to pick up Claude. When they arrived at

her house, the first thing they noticed was the smell of alcohol.

“You been drinking, Claude?” Grandmother asked. “Why no, Jen! I just

had a little toddy because my throat was a little sore,” she replied to my

grandmother. “I want to be able to sing well today at church!”

“All the toddies in the world could not help you sing well,”

Grandmother thought to herself. “I can tell this is going to be an

interesting day.”

When the family arrived, the church was full. This must have been one

of the largest congregations the little church had seen in a while. Folks

had come from all around. All the good Methodists had taken the back

rows of the sanctuary first, so my family had to sit up on the front row.

The minister said his opening prayer and the congregation had sang a

song. Just about the time the sermon had begun, Claude sprung up and

headed to the pulpit. Grandma tried to grab her coat tail, but it was too

late. Claude walked up to the minister. He backed away from her toddy

breath as she said, “Reverend, I feel like singing a little song.” I’m not sure

if it was the Holy Spirit or that toddy she had earlier, but the minister

allowed her to take the pulpit in her green dress coat with the fur collar

that she always made sure to let everyone know was real mink. She was

barely tall enough to peep over the top of the podium. She looked over at

the pianist and said, “Don’t worry, honey. You don’t know this one.” The

confused pianist kept her seat as Claude began to belt out a song. Her

melody sounded like two cats fighting. When she finished singing to the

congregation of wide eyes and open mouths, she headed back to the pew

where my family had just about slid completely from view in their seats.

The minister awkwardly thanked Claude for sharing her testament and

continued with his sermon.

The family never accompanied Claude to another Homecoming, but I

bet she went on her own and continued to be the center of attention.