Macon Traditions

Both my mama and my daddy always worked, which left them at my mercy during the summer months. After we moved to our house on the Lake Emory Road, when I was 10 years old, my childhood summer days did not include any type of supervision from the time I woke up until 5 p.m., when my mama got off work. I was footloose and fancy free to get into any kind of situation that appealed to me.

Bless my parents! We had no extra money at all, but they managed to send me to a week-long camp each summer. I went to 4-H camp, Camp Tekoa, which was a Methodist Church camp; Girl Scout camp, and even Camp Rainbow for those who belonged to the Masonic Order of Rainbow Girls. You know, I was never going to be a Rainbow Girl, even if I did spend a week with them one summer. Anything to keep me entertained and out of trouble.

But, the very best summer of my life was spent in Nantahala with my grandparents, George and Maude Bateman. How it all came about, well, I don’t know. But I guess my parents begged for relief, and my grandparents offered it.

The plan was that Mammaw, Grandaddy, and I were going to spend the summer and raise a garden in the rich black dirt in Nantahala, which was so much different than the red clay found on their farm on the Lake Emory Road. The black dirt was loose and fertile, while the red clay was chunky with clods. I knew nothing about gardening, other than I didn’t want to do it, so I was as useless, and I’m sure, as aggravating as I could be.

That summer, my parents drove my grandparents and me to Nantahala and dropped us off with our supplies. We moved into a little three-roomed shack that had no running water and no electricity. It was just like camping out! Mammaw and Granddaddy had a bed, and I had a cot. The kitchen had a wood cookstove. The outhouse we used hung out over the creek, which I thought was a great improvement to an ordinary outhouse, since it had continual flushing. 

My regular job was to carry water from the spring in a five-gallon bucket. “Don’t stir up the spring bottom.” “Don’t put more in than you can carry.” “Don’t get off the path because there’s likely to be snakes in the tall weeds.” I can’t think of any more rules I had that summer, so I was free to visit, play, and explore with my cousin, Penny, who was the voice of reason, since she could get into trouble if we misbehaved. I was mostly beyond correction, since I was a spoiled grandchild.

My days were filled with doing whatever I could think to do. I walked to the little store for treats; I played with newborn pups and kittens; I saw my uncles, aunts, and cousins on a regular basis; I read; I ate my Mammaw’s delicious cooking; I sat on the little porch in the evening and rested or broke beans while the adults told stories; and, I had my grandparents all to myself. It was glorious!

There was only once that Mammaw fussed at me that I can remember. The bright spot in that fussing was that she was angrier with Granddaddy than she was with me. He and I had both left the house to waste time soon after breakfast when there was work to be done, which she had done all by herself after giving up on us coming back to help. After our scolding, we both slunk around with our ears pinned back. I don’t know about Granddaddy, but she made a real impression on me.

No car, no television, no electricity, no entertainment – other than what I could dig up for myself – and yet it was the best summer ever!