Me An’ Cornbread

Written by Stumblin’ Jimmy Watermelon

ow on this tiny back-creek island where my family had our home an’ modest farm, there lived a handful of other folk. Like most all places, big or small, there was what Daddy called, ‘The good, the bad an’ the simple-crazy’. Daddy used to say that over the course of a year I managed to cover all three. Momma would laugh an’ tell him that just meant I was a well rounded child. She always tried to see the better picture in me, as she tried in everyone. Daddy grumbled, but for the most part (in this matter anyway) he followed her lead.

When not in school or doin’ chores, my time was passed roamin’ an’ rompin’ from marsh edge, wood an’ field, to the opposite reeded shore. There were few other children among the families on our little paradise, but as luck would have it one of them was my best buddy. His given name was Nathaniel Vespers, but early on in our friendship I started callin’ him “Cornbread” cause he enjoyed it so much. It was he that in turn dubbed me “Stumblin’ Jimmy”, my life of youthful adventure bein’ one calamity after the next. We was good buddies an’ tighter than our Bluffton doctor’s best stitches. When there was mischief, you can bet we was both neck deep in it. When there was Saturday dinner, we was eatin’ at his house or mine. If we found a particularly active frog or lizard, it got packed in a box to curl the hair an’ raise fitful screams from his sister or mine. Often our Daddies would meet, takin’ each of us to “the woodshed”. I could write a book on our many exploits and bit by bit I’m sure that I will.

About this time you may be askin’ yourself what all this has to do with the first month of the year. Well, I’ll tell ya’. For “Cornbread” an’ me, in our childhood innocence, there was four special times of the year: Easter, ‘cause Jesus brought back with him the spring an’ summer fishin’; Halloween, cause we could eat candy ‘til we was sick an’ get away with scarin’ the girls; Christmas, no explanation needed there; an’ then there was January an’ NewYear’s Day. Now that time was really important for me an’ “Cornbread”. It set the tone you might say for the whol’ year to follow.

You see my momma, in all her infinite wisdom, had developed this custom that, as long as it hadn’t been a jailin’ offense, on the first of the year my “slate”(so to speak) would be wiped clean an’ I got to start fresh all over again. The idea was that each year I’d try to do better. Each year Daddy would roll his eyes at the moment of absolvement. He’d shake his head, I guess givin’ in to the resolvement that every now an’ then he had to give in to Momma’s ever hopeful optimism. It all sounded so good that Cornbread’s folks even adopted the tradition. An’ though over the years we did both grow into honorable men, in our youth it was our savin’ grace.

So in the course of helpin’ your children along in life maybe you can find yourself adoptin’ our tradition. Most everyone deserves a chance to grow to be better. Given the grace of forgivness, some will. May the coming months fill our lives with joy, love and understanding. Take care Cornbread, where ever you are.

Going Coastal —
Twelve Months And Then Some of
Stumblin’ Jimmy Watermelon

James Lynah Palmer Jr.
Sea Oats Publishing LLC

A collection of short stories straight from the heart of the Lowcountry. Stumblin’ Jimmy shares adventures from his life that include many colorful characters. His tales have such wit and drip with so much southern charm that he has been called the twenieth century Mark Twain. Jimmy is a monthly contributer to the Bluffton Breeze Magazine and his work is in syndication. To purchase “Going Coastal” email to: seaoatspublishing@yahoo.com or call (843)762-2606.