Whistling Girls and Crowing Hens

By Joy Ingram

You may have heard that actions speak louder than words. This is very true, but for myself and for many others, the words and phrases that we grew up with as children have influenced our actions and therefore ring very loudly in our lives. I grew up on a rich diet of words and phrases that shaped and molded me into my adulthood and even until today. You see, I did not grow up influenced by the writings of Voltaire or the paintings of Rembrandt, but I grew up on the words and phrases of a little Southern black woman with a man's middle name""Mamie Floyd. This work is a compilation of stories and sayings from and about Miss Mamie. Many of these sayings were, in some cases, casually spoken. In other cases, they came as strong admonition as a result of or to prevent some undesirable action. Whatever the reasons, these sayings have become internalized as part of a rich family legacy, affecting my life in quiet, unspoken ways. For example, to this day, I cannot whistle. It is certainly not because I am not physically able to whistle, but like many other African American and Southern women I grew up with, I believed that this was not only unladylike but could possibly affect the way I would turn out as an adult. I rarely, if ever, talked back to my parents, especially my mother. If I did not find myself in the "middle of next week" or "wake up dead," I knew I at least wanted to live past that day. It is funny. I don't believe anyone really knows where the place called the "middle of next week" is, but few have dared to do what it took to venture there. I am also very thankful for my taste buds. As a matter of fact, long before I studied science in grade school and found out exactly what and where taste buds are, I knew they had to be very special because Mama frequently threatened to slap them out of my mouth. In an age of jargon and political correctness, they are a refreshing oasis from which to draw.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781645151234

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Whistling Girls and Crowing Hens

Joy E. Ingram

Copyright © 2019 by Joy E. Ingram

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

An Extraordinary Woman

Get In This House

Save a Sip Just for Me

A Hard Day’s Night

What’s for Dinner?

Three Crops of Chiren

The Stored-Up Whuppin’

The White Lady Told Me to Do It

The Day the Schools Integrated

The Sixth Grade Dance

I Wanna Smoke Like Miss Mer (Mary) Kate

The Day I Ruined Christmas

*Fix Yo Face

Yon, My Baby

Louie 32

Mama’s Hands

To my husband, Anthony. I would like to thank him for his love and constant support and gentle prodding to finish this work. To my two children: my daughter, Michelle, and my son, Aaron. It is my sincere desire that they also will keep the legacy of storytelling alive.

Acknowledgements

I have often said, Everyone needs at least one black mama. I am thankful for my black mama. Some people learn their history in school by reading and doing research. Although I have a master’s degree in history, I thank my mother for passing this rich legacy on to me. I also want to thank my Aunt Edna, Grandmamma Georgia, cousin Sandy, Aunt Cora, Sally T., cousin Willie, cousin C. Bose, Miss Tommie, cousin Bessie, cousin Geraldine, Momma Lula Ingram, Charlotte Ingram, and all my other hosts of black mamas and female relatives who have been the source of countless inspiration for this book.

I want to thank my sister Marion DeVelle Contini for always, always being there for me in ways that even she is not aware. I want to thank my sister BJ Patrick for being my biggest cheerleader and constantly keeping a fire under me to write and tell the story of this remarkable human being that gave us life.

My pastors Dr. Ed and Nora King, and my Redemption Church Family.

My niece Keva DeVelle Horry for going before me and publishing a book.

I would like to thank Ronni Chandler and everyone through the years that knew Miss Mamie and shared with me their own mother’s wit.

I would like to thank my friend and colleague Dr. Toni McDaniel for always encouraging me to tell my story.

I want to thank my girls Darleen Weigel, Shiela Whitaker, Kathy Richards, Yvonne Wilson, Lori Lennon, Lisa Leera Orr, Wendy Boyd, and Tiffanny Greenlee.

I want to thank Gabby Wenger for keeping me laughing and encouraging me to finish this book.

I want to thank my good friend Rachel Reed for inspiring me in too many ways to mention.

Introduction

You may have heard that actions speak louder than words. This is very true. But for myself and for many others, the words and phrases that we grew up with as children have influenced our actions and therefore ring very loudly in our lives. I grew up on a rich diet of words and phrases that shaped and molded me into my adulthood and even until today. You see, I did not grow up influenced by the writings of Voltaire or the paintings of Rembrandt, but I grew up on the words and phrases of a little black Southern woman with a man’s middle name—Floyd. She hailed from Elberton, Georgia. She barely had an elementary school education but was one of the wisest women I have ever had the privilege of knowing. She barely stood five feet tall. She flashed a big pretty smile for anyone who came to call on her, and her perfect white teeth (as she proudly proclaimed to anyone she first met, You know I got all my teeth) were a sharp contrast to her coffee-colored skin. As a matter of fact, us kids called her Coffee behind her back. My daddy’s skin color defied the notion that he was a black man as he was as white as any Caucasian around.

Several years ago, I started recording and compiling the sayings of my mother as a sort of hobby. Much to my surprise, when I would use some of my mother’s quips, other people, many of whom are colleagues of mine, would share with me some of the sayings of their mothers, aunts, grandmothers, etc. I began to notice that although many of the sayings were definitely unique, at the same time they had many similar qualities. No matter what city I travel to, especially in the South, I very seldom find another African American or Appalachian woman—at least of the baby-boomer era—that I do not have something in common with. Generally, this bond of commonality