Growing up on hallowed ground

Building a vacation/retirement house in the small community of Sutton, Arkansas, has been a very rewarding experience for me and my family. To many of us, the land we all walked as kids is sacred ground. I've never felt closer to Sutton, Daddy George, Nannie, Uncle, Worth, Martha ... and all of my relatives ... that I have in the past eight months or so.


One of my favorite songs is "Paradise," a song about a special place that has been ruined by civilization and progress. Not Sutton. It was special when my cousin Gary and I were building unfloatable rafts on the pond, when Jackie and an unnamed cousin peed on cousins Betsy and Baby Ann from the magnolia tree, when sister Andi Dale was called T-Ninesy, when we played baseball in CarnaLee Garrett's field, when we all -- at one time or another -- followed our grandfather Daddy George to the Sand Field or Duncan Field and walked every inch of fence line.


Special memories include watching our grandmother Nannie water her flowers from a pail in her little print dresses and Uncle France spending all morning get dressed up for homecoming. Everyone cousin of the Andres Clan can still see Aunt Martha sitting on the floor, making her books, and Uncle Worth talking cars till we all could just throw up.


It is still a special place today.


This little ditty is not supposed to be anything special ... just a little walk in the past to help me keep fresh in my mind the images that linger still. I know it helped make all Andres kin the folks we grew up to be.



Written as a song to tune of Paradise, a song written and recorded by John Prine and also recorded by Johnny Cash, Dwight Yoakam, John Denver, Tom T. Hall, Everly Brothers, John Fogerty, Jackie DeShannon

Chorus

Cousins, won’t you go down to the home place

With Daddy George and Nannie, we walked the woods

Where we all grew up, loving our history

And the lessons they taught us did us much good.



There’s the old pond where Uncle France took us

Where we learned how to spit, fish, whittle and cuss

We’d come home wet covered with chiggers

And our mommas would gather and raise such a fuss



See the magnolia where we all learned to climb

And we all put our initials way up at the top.

And Butch and Jackie peed on girl cousins

We can still hear them all beggin’ us to stop



Uncle was swingin’ and Martha was fussin’

About cigarette smoke getting in her eyes,

Daddy George was sittin’ on front porch

Teachin’ his grandsons how to catch flies.



Uncle was sittin’ and pitchin’ big washers

And teaching dog Penny how to catch snuff

Nieces and nephews told him to stop it

And all the young ones couldn’t see it enough



Worth was a-hollerin’ to give him a big hug,

Thompson Boys wanted supper on Sunday night.

Nobody liked ‘em, but Nannie still fed ‘em

‘cause their mama had once treated her right.



And, Cousins, won’t you go on down to the home place

With Daddy George and Nannie, we walked the woods

Where we all grew up, loving our history

And the lessons they taught us did us some good.



On Sundays we marched to the Nazarene Church

In a big long line like a herd of wild ducks,

Squirming and fidgeting all during the sermon

Then headed back home for Sunday pot luck.



Smitty and Martha would eat green hot peppers

‘Til Smitty cried “Uncle” and Martha would grin,

Worth shoveled peas in his mouth with a shovel

And emptied his plate and start fillin’ it again.



Wild cousins would scuffle out in the front yard

While daddys and uncles egged them on,

Martha made books sittin’ cross-legged,

Worth tinkered with his car under the hot sun.



Chorus



We’d walk Memory Lane to go see the peddler,

We’d walk it again to pick up the paper and mail,

We’d visit Lambert’s store to get us a soda,

The smell of the outhouse sticks with us still.



Suuukkk, Cow! You could hear Daddy George holler

When time came to check on the small herd,

The grandkids would try and mock his loud call

The cows all ignored us, never hearing a word.



Cousins, you know we can walk with them still,

Go down to Sutton, walk hallowed ground

You can conjure up your own special memories

They’re all right there just waitin’ to be found.