We had a place on the lake a small camper back then, it was beside my great aunt and uncles place, they had a house. On Fridays my Aint Beatrice (that is pronounced B at trice, in the south) would pick me up from school and take me on to the lake and my parents would come later that evening.
I LOVED Aint Beatrice and Uncle JC. She taught me to play cards and would play cards for hours with me. From rummy to old maid and go fish any card game. Mind you they were in their 50's then and hadn't had little kids around for ages. But they both had the patience of Job with me. Uncle JC would take me to the bank to fish with a cane pole and he taught me to skip rocks, to bait my own hook and to take the fish off. Perhaps this is all where my camping and fishing craziness came from. He and I would go out in the boat and check his trot lines each morning and evening, and in the heat of the day we'd check the tires over on "Red Bank". Aint Beatrice, cooked the best food I don't ever remember not eating something she fixed except once. LOL
She fixed us eggs one morning and I was small maybe 7, and the pan had gotten to hot after she fried up the side meat, but when she put my eggs on my plate they had that fringie brown stuff on em I always called it "lace" I said Aint Bea I don't like lace. She said honey I wouldn't make you wear lace for nothin in the world. I said I don't like it on my eggs neither. Well needless to say, that was the story of the day. They laughed about that for years to come. I think everybody at the Marina and on that cove knew about my lacey eggs that morning.
As she lay dying, I went to see her when I was 17. I sat on the bed beside her and she said, "Bub" ya want me to go fix ya some fatback and lacey eggs? Made for a great last memory, me and her son laughed and then left the room and cried together knowing that was probably our last laugh with her. But it is sweet to remember today, thanks for the thread.
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