A Word Edgewise |
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Last Updated 01/20/06
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FOLKLORE,
A WORLD OF USEFUL INFORMATION
Bluebonnets were nodding their pretty heads at the primroses while the phlox cheered, as we drove southward. Spring was really in evidence down that way.
Our trip to Floresville and on to Victoria gave a refreshingly different
view of the world. The flat lands spotted with mesquite just beginning to show
green, with giant live oak, and other trees I can’t name, reminded me of
history I had recently read. Going through Goliad I realized it would have taken
at least two days for troops on horseback to get to the Alamo, even after they
got the call for help.
The Texas Folklore Society meeting had several interesting speakers. Two
from Lubbock spoke about schoolyard games and songs such as those sang for jump
rope, and ones to teach numbers, words, some just for fun.
The title of the speech by Lucy Fischer, from El Paso was “A Tortilla
is Never Just a Tortilla.” She said when she came to Texas from New Mexico she
was surprised to see Texans tear a freshly made tortilla and eat it in bits. In
New Mexico they would generously butter it, sprinkle a little salt and roll it.
It was in the 1940s that factory made tortillas began to replace the homemade
ones. Lucy had a grandmother who could make the perfectly round thin ones that
were so good hot off the griddle. She remembered when given a lump of dough to
make, it became just a lump in her hands.
I remember trying to shape round tortillas, too. Mine were just a lump
that began to ooze through my fingers before I got it flat. My friend Teresa who
was trying to teach me to make them, finally gave up and bought me a tortilla
press. With that I could do fairly well. (I recently ran across that press still
in my cabinet after various moves. Maybe I’ll try again.) According to Lucy
Fischer, a tortilla is bread, a
fork, a spoon, and even a napkin.
“Five Strands Off the Bottom” was a talk about oil field stories.
Another was about Governor Jim Ferguson, and Governor Ma Ferguson. The speaker
had found access to papers recently released to Rice University that gave new
insight into the couple including a note from President Franklin Roosevelt
saying to bring Mrs. Ferguson next time he visited.
So, my own paper, “Joe Fitzgerald, Pioneer
Nurseryman and Philosopher” was well received. Several asked questions and
commented. It was an interesting meeting.
Occasionally, some friend decides that I should know the answers to all
the old sayings, folklore, that springs up. Maybe because I’m old, too. Wish I
did know. Then I could have answered Jean Tidwell Ross, (we went to school
together at Alexander) when she asked me about digging postholes. She wanted to
know under what phase of the moon one should dig postholes. According to her,
and Ray agreed, if you dig a posthole and put the post in under the wrong moon
time, you won’t have enough dirt to fill the hole back to ground level. Well,
I couldn’t answer that—really didn’t know whether she was serious or
not—especially when it was April first when she asked. I told her I’d do a
little search and get back to her.
Next morning I called to tell of my failure to find posthole information,
but passed on some valuable advice about where to locate an outhouse. Perhaps
the information will be as valuable to you as to her: The outhouse should be
downwind of the home, some place easy to dig, and behind the woodpile so that
you can bring in a load of wood on the way back to the house.
Of course, she had a story about the family outhouse. Seems one time a
visitor was to make the trip to their outhouse. They warned her that an old
goose had chosen to build a nest there. In fact, the goose was then setting on
some eggs and didn’t appreciate being disturbed. The visitor was to be very
careful! Well, she wasn’t careful enough. The goose flogged her—but good.
The visitor came back to the house laughing so hard tears were rolling down her
cheeks. She said she didn’t realize how badly she wanted to go until the goose
scared her so.