Grilled Cheese with Gumballs and Jerry

(Road House, a 1948 film directed by Negulesco)

Having a parent that owned a Roadhouse was a blast. A roadhouse, as explained on Wikipedia is; "A local inn or restaurant, the 'roadhouse' or 'road house' commonly serves meals, especially in the evenings, has a bar serving beer or hard liquor and features music, dancing and sometimes gambling. Most roadhouses are located along highways or roads in rural areas or on the outskirts of towns. Early roadhouses provided lodging for travelers but with the advent of faster means of transport than walking, horseback riding, or horse-drawn carriages, few now have rooms available. Roadhouses have a slightly disreputable image similar to honky tonks". Thanks Wikipedia and the 331 Roadhouse along HWY 331 in Alabama did qualify as a honky tonk!

The time that we lived at the 331 in Alabama, I was very young and very aware of my surroundings. Aside from spending hours upon hours in the deep woods of Alabama I spent most of my late mornings sitting at the dinning counter in the roadhouse eating a squished grilled cheese sandwich for breakfast/lunch. I did not eat much as a kid and I will confidently state that I lived on grilled cheese sandwiches! Even though I was not well aged in life experience I knew my sandwiches. I knew a grilled cheese sandwich was not a true grilled cheese sandwich until it was properly squished almost flat. To grill a flattened cheese sandwich one needed to use a heavy metal spatula to press down on the sandwich as it browned and as the cheese melted. Grilled cheese all squished and hot with the cheese melted into orange goo. Yep, at 4, I was already a food snob. 

Along with my morning cheese sandwiches there was a young man who, for a small while, spent many late mornings and early afternoons at the roadhouse having breakfast with me. Together we would sit at the counter. I was always twirling the bar stool I sat on around and around while at the same time biting into my sandwich while at the same time chatting. Without taking a breath I would report about the latest baby bird I found or how many pollywogs I had caught or reveal my plans for lightening bug capture and torment or sometimes I would just humming and twirl and eat. He, my chow companion would be hunched over a cup of coffee with a side of grits and eggs. On a few occasions that man emptied the gumball machine, one penny click and twist at a time, just for me. He arrived at the roadhouse with his pockets full of pennies singing, "got a penny in my pocket, got an angel on my shoulder, found a four leaf clover and I put it in my wallet" while his fingers would play tunes in his pockets using the pennies as his musical backup. After I finished my twirling breakfast is when he would insert into the gumball machine enough pennies to buy up all the gumballs and all the little shinny charms. As each gumball dropped and each charm escaped the machine, this wonderful kind man would hand them to me one by one and I would stuff my mouth until I could not open my jaws and I would stuff my pockets with the reaming gumballs and the charms. I would take the charms out behind the roadhouse, and line them up on the picnic table provided for the customers who were not allowed to use the front entrance. 

 (gumball machine charms)

My breakfast partner was very nice and he and my mom talked and talked and talked about music, and food, and life. I loved all the gumballs but more than the gumballs I loved the man's generosity and kindness he demonstrated toward me. His attention was not in a bad inappropriate way. My breakfast date demonstrated genuine heartfelt kindness. I could feel the kindness and I could feel he sincerely enjoyed my company. Being 4, it was a rare experience to encounter an adult that actually paid attention, listened, and shared their valuable adult time. I learned early on that adults lived in a world where every second was too precious to play and talk with kids. Nope, adults had business to attend to and it was my job to find ways to stay out of the way. Now, today, I find myself wondering about my friend and I feel that the time he and I spent sharing gumballs and trinkets was shortly after his 3 year old son drowned. Of course I knew the kind man sang and played the piano but since he did so late at night at the 331 entertaining the customers,I never got to watch. It was the law that I had to be outside of the roadhouse when evening came and customers filed in. Since we lived in the cabins adjacent to the road house I did hear a lot of his music and wow! I did not really know who this kind man was until years later. Oh, I also met his talented cousin. 

  (Jerry Lee Lewis)

I now believe when I shared my breakfast time with Jerry Lee Lewis, he was doing roadhouse tours because of the slump in his career upon the discovery he had married his cousin's 13 year old daughter. And we all know that that slump soon eased and he went on again to big success and more controversy.

(All stories blogged by me are my property and protected under copyright laws. No part may be used or reproduced in anyway without my permission ~ Maryanne Mesplé) 

Burning My Innocence

Have you ever seen the KKK burn a cross with the intention of deliberately scaring people? Have you ever seen men with white hoods covering their faces? I have. Have you ever heard men wearing white hoods yelling obscenities about ( insert N word pluralized) and threatening to kill said person because of the color of their skin? I have. Have you ever seen a cross, sitting next to gas tanks, torched by men wearing white hoods in hopes of causing an explosion that would destroy structures and people in those structures? I have.

 (photo found on Google no credit given)

And here is my story.

Living in Alabama in the late 1950's for me, was like living in a magical world. I lived in Mobil, and Greenville, and Honorville, all in a short amount of time and each community or woodsy place had a special charm about it. My life in Alabama can be divided into two sections, before my parent's  divorce and after my parent's divorce. While my parents were still married we lived on Maxwell/Gunter AFB in Montgomery Alabama and life for me, was filled with a lot of fantastic fun filled days. I was happy.

It was right after my parent’s divorce that life began to change in bizarre, interesting ways. I use the word interesting because I can't think of another way to describe what I witnessed and experienced. Normal is not a word of choice here. My life became more stimulating because of all the characters that suddenly populated my life. These new people brought with them historical dramas and even my own parent's and siblings began to express themselves explosively and oddly. Everyone suddenly had a problem and everyone suddenly had to share their problem with everyone. I spent a lot of time confused when I was around grown-ups and or my siblings so I tried to spend most my time outside. Outside was normal, and magical.

As a young child do you remember how an hour could feel like a day? And a day could contain enough adventure to fill an entire year of an adult’s life? My life was like that. I lived my days filled with Huck Finn type adventure in the backwoods crawling with all the characters the backwoods of Alabama could sustain. I lived in a world of natures magic that created amazing beautiful adventures between me and birds and bugs and trees. I also lived in the confusion of being a small child living with my mother and sister post parental divorce at a road house. The 331 Roadhouse was owned for an instant in this life by my mom, Ellie, and the 331 sat alongside HWY 331 in Alabama. While living at the Roadhouse I gathered in my little head enough memories to last my lifetime. Memory collecting was part of my magical child experience, to this day I can tell you about the feel and smell of moments I lived through with my imagination as my guide. I lived life innocently, I breathed in without fear and I knew I was loved and that my mom and sister would always be with me. I had no fears, no worries. Not even my parent's divorce bothered me because I was not used to my father being around anyway, so his absence was normal to me. 
My lens of innocence was burned when I witnessed a horrific event that caused within me a fear I had never known before and I begin to see that not all people were nice; I began to see people like fractured pieces of glass that made it hard to know the whole person.

One beautiful night in the early spring of 1961 the 331 was hopping to great sounds of music and ladies and their gents were waxing their shoes as they slid into and out of their dance moves across the Roadhouse’s waxed dance floor. Being a place where one could legally buy alcohol it was not uncommon for there to be at least one person who could not hold their drink. This particular night that one person was an Officer’s wife from Montgomery AL and she did not want to drive her car; being that she was a bit tipsy. This lady, not versed in the ways of the Deep South thought she would ask for a ride home. This drunken lady leaned over the food counter and yelled at the Roadhouse cook, asking if he could drive her home when he was done with his work. Oh my.
Remember this is Alabama. This happened in 1961. The lady was asking “a man of color” she was asking a man who was referred to as “N” to give her, a “white” lady a ride home where they would be alone in a car together. No No No No.

The cook came to my mom and told her what had happened and told my mom that he was scared and wanted to slip out the back and go home to his family to protect them and himself if needed. My mom agreed, not really understanding the gravity of the situation, she went back to work tending to the fry cook position herself. There was an ABC Board man in the Roadhouse that evening, because he was one of my mom’s good friends. Ed was the ABC Board man’s name. Ed called for back up because he had a feeling and sure enough, Ed was right. Ed suggested to my mom that she make sure her children were not in the restaurant. Mom came to the back where the “Coloreds” were served because it was in "the back" that my sister and I hung out. My mom told us to go to the cabin. Now. We did so quickly because we could sense the anxiety in her voice.

Within an hour there were screeching tires and revving engines with several vehicles surrounding the 331 Roadhouse. In those vehicles there were men with their heads covered with white sacks and those men were yelling and shouting awful obscenities. People were scattering everywhere as we watched from the cabin. Several of those hooded men got out of their trucks and erected a cross right next to the gas tanks and set it on fire. Lucky for us, and many other people Ed from the ABC Board ran out and began yelling that other ABC officers were on the way and the hooded men, yelling back, got in their cars and trucks and sped away. Ed put out the burning cross and it felt like there was no air for any of us to breathe!

 (Google image no credit found)

My mom came to the cabin to check on us and took us back to the Roadhouse with her for a bit to keep an eye on us while she and others cleaned up. The clean up involved taking down the partially burned cross in addition to gathering what was left of any nerve they may have had. I was filled with confusion and fear and a huge lack of understanding. I could not understand why anyone would want to burn Jesus’ cross. I could not understand why anyone would want to dress up like it was Halloween and scare my mom and other people. None of anything I saw or thought I saw made any sense and you know what? To this day, none of what happened that night makes sense. Hatred and racism and bigotry never makes sense.  

That night opened up a window I had never looked through and that was the window into a world where people could be deliberately hateful and harmful to one another based on nothing but the color of skin. I began to worry about my moles because my moles where the same color as my friends who used the back entrance of the Roadhouse. My moles were the same color as my friends who played in the backwoods with me. I lived a life of fear after that. Fear that at any moment someone could take something good away and make it bad.
Life was a bit different around the Roadhouse after that night. The ABC officers posted someone there everyday for awhile because of what had happened and also because the Freedom Riders were on their way to Montgomery. 

The Freedom Riders caused a lot of much needed commotion that I am grateful for. I am grateful for the Freedom Riders and their the bravery  to step out in harms way and change the world for the better, or at least try.The world needed to change from the world I witnessed to a world where a person is accepted for the simply fact that they are human and that has nothing to do with the color of skin.

And as a side note ~ My older sister who was with me that night married one of the KKK member’s sons.


(All stories blogged by me are my property and protected under copyright laws. No part may be used or reproduced in anyway without my permission ~ Maryanne Mesplé)