Monday, August 31, 2009


I expect this to need fleshing out after this wee entry.
So I ask my brother J. where Savanna's is, Alabama or Mississippi? Without hesitation he says Alabama, which by the way is what I think.

Days later he is relating some of the story connected and says "where was that? Alabama or Mississippi?" as if we didn't just go through that. I guess being a DiCara and past 60 merits some allowances.

Savanna was a rotund black Southern woman with a small eatery a 1/4 mile from a ferry landing on the East side of a river. Not much else nearby. A large open dinning area where you could see what was going on in the kitchen area; a jukebox and a 9 year old daughter helping out. No menu, just whatever was being cooked that day, all you wanted for a reasonable if not cheap price. Catfish, fried yardbird or pork chops, a mess of greens, black-eyed peas, hush puppies etc. good eats. Since when we descend on the place the food demand goes up pretty severely we would spend a pretty long time before completing dinner.

Like any band of misfits who are used to working and playing hard we took full advantage of the jukebox and consumed mass quantities. There was one visit where you could hear the young miss say "Mama, is all white folks that crazy?" I sure don't remember what Savannah answered, I think it was a laugh and a shushhh maybe accompanied by a little swat. But I'm sure she probably answered differently after we left. She sure treated us well and we tried to do the same. I sure could go for some sweet potato pie right now.

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