In the book “Drama Free”, the author, Nedra Glover Tawwab, describes the differences between “roles” and “relationships” in a family. Some people may be labeled as a cousin, sibling, etc. However, they may fill the role of a parent, uncle, aunt or sibling. Oh how true this is for me. Hence, cousins that are close like siblings and neighborhood friends like extended family.
Family Ties
Moving to Jasper afforded me the opportunity to grow up around my first cousins, the children of my aunts and uncles on my mother’s side of the family. And what was really cool is that the majority of them all lived in the same neighborhood.
Jasper, just like any other town or city is divided up into sections and they all have names. The major divisions that I knew about (and somebody is going to check me on this for sure) were: South Quarters, North Quarters, East Jasper (don’t know why it wasn’t East Quarters), Independent Quarters and Mill Quarters. We lived in Mill Quarters. Mill Quarters was probably called Mill Quarters because there were actually two saw mills located in the vicinity of the neighborhood. There were other areas with special names, but these were the ones that were mostly within the city limits (and that I can remember).
In case you didn’t know, Jasper is in the heart of Southeast Texas. The middle of what is known as The Piney Woods. Or the Big Thicket. Jasper has been nicknamed “The Jewel of the Forest.” Lots of hunting and fishing goes on in and around Jasper, and back in the 1970’s and ‘80s it was such a magical time. Jasper is also a football town. High school football is king. During the 80’s, the town would shut down on game night.
Jasper, like any other place in America, has had its struggles with racism. Everyone remembers the events of 1998 when one of the worst racially motivated hate crimes in modern times was perpetrated. However, with the exception of that major event, when we were in the confines of our own neighborhood, we were oblivious to all the crazy that was going on in the world around us.
I loved going to Jasper on the weekends when Mom and I would go, before we moved. So when we moved, I became immersed into my extended family life. And I loved it all.
Most of my cousins were older by a few years. By the time I moved to Jasper, some were going off to college and some were in high school. However, on the weekends mostly everyone would come home.
Fish Fry
During the Spring and Summer (from what I remember), Friday nights were prime for fish frys. Around the block from my grandmother’s house lived two of my aunts. Their houses were side by side. My aunt Hula Mae, affectionately known as Bae Bae, and my Aunt Leola, aka, Teddy. Everyone had nicknames. More on that later. These two houses and the shared yards combined were aptly nicknamed “The Pocket”. Someone said because the land and boundaries and yard were shaped like a “pocket” (another point I’ll probably be checked on).
Generally what would happen, my cousins and/or Aunt Teddy and maybe her husband, my uncle Howard would go up to the lake and go fishing. After catching a bunch of fish, they would bring them home to “The Pocket”. That’s when the cleaning process would begin. Aunt Bae Bae’s kids, my cousins, would probably get the music going. One of them would make a run to the County Line to purchase all of the “adult beverages” for the evening. Jasper was a dry county. However, Newton County was not. So a quick 15 minute drive up the highway to the liquor store at the county line, which is named, “The County Line” is where everyone went to secure all of their party favorites.
Let the Party Begin
As the fish was being cleaned, fileted and seasoned the grease was being heated. Family would begin to gather. And as the sun would begin to set, you could smell the fish frying in the grease. As the music is playing in the house, some people may begin dancing and laughter could be heard throughout. The adult beverages would be iced down in an ice chest and others would be mixed in to other beverages to create the latest mixed beverage of choice.
The menu was simple. It was fried fish. And sometimes, on the off chance there were french fries, that would be a specialty. Otherwise, a piece of fish, a slice of white bread (to help with ingesting any fish bones you may accidentally swallow and maybe some ketchup would hold you down.
As night set in, and after all the fish was fried, the older folk, usually my aunties and my mom would congregate in the house and sit around and discuss the gossip of the day. Meanwhile, outside, in the front yard, others would have constructed a makeshift table, maybe out of a piece of plywood or something else and set on top of some sort of base for support. This would be for the “bonez”, aka dominoes.
The Game of Kings and Queens
A folding card table was too flimsy for a true domino game in the hood (IYKYK). Lawn chairs, stools, a piece of wood or something sturdy would serve as chairs. There would be a lot of smack talking around the domino table. There would be a lot to prove as people played and crowds gathered around. Games would either be played with individuals or teams.
Sometimes there would be a designated score keeper. This person would usually sit close to the table with pencil and paper in hand ready to tally the score as points are being called out. The scoring system looked like some rudimentary form of a game of Tic Tac Toe, where every mark stood for points. First person or team to reach the agreed upon limit was declared winner. This was usually either 100 or 150 points.
At times, the marker, aka score keeper served a dual role as bartender. This would be because the only available seat may be the ice chest said “adult” beverages were stored in. Now I’m not going to confirm nor deny that there was any underage drinking going on, but this was the 70’s and 80’s. This is when parents sent their kids to the store to buy cigarettes. Anyway, the times that I may have served as score keeper/bartender, I learned what beverages to reach in the cooler for when asked.
The neighborhood is Family
As the evening went on, more people from the neighborhood or elsewhere may stop through. All were invited and welcomed with a smile and of course offered a beverage. This is how we all grew close. This is how friends became family, cousins became siblings and older adults became surrogate parents to all of the kids in the neighborhood. It was an organic form of a neighborhood watch program. Nothing formal. Just the way the neighborhood stayed close.
As younger kids, we would play games in the street in front of the house. This was safe because it would be so many cars parked alongside the street, it was near impossible for cars to drive through, much less speed through. There may be a pick up football game, baseball game, but mostly some form of races. Our family loved speed and loved to race. If it wasn’t racing on foot, it was bikes. As we got older and got cars, well . . .
As kids though we loved to race. Well, I would say the OTHER kids loved to race. Me, I knew my limits and realized I was built for comfort, not for speed. However, I did participate in my fair share of bike races. “The Pocket” was situated on the side of a gradual hill. The starting line for the race was usually at the top of the hill and the finish line was somewhere on the other end. The “track” was the street in front of my auntie’s houses and spectators lined the sides.
Foot races could get very competitive. In the beginning, or first “heat”, there may be several competitors. However, this would be narrowed down to the fastest two or three. Once again, just as in the domino game, there would be a lot of smack talking about who was the fastest. Tons of unrealistic excuses would be given as to why someone lost. The quickest solution to figure out who was the fastest would be a head to head race between those last two or three contestants. And this is when the shoes came off. Yes, shoes made you slower. So naturally, running barefoot on an asphalt street would definitely increase your speed and give you the edge you needed to be the winner. I don’t know if there was any scientific research that was done to back this up, but in the hood, at 9 o’clock pm, when bragging rights were on the line, this was hard-core truth.
Block Party Reunion
Growing up with my extended family and neighborhood family was really special. We shared a lot of memories and good times. I loved when my family got together. There were the fish frys, the holiday gatherings like the Thanksgiving neighborhood football game, Easter egg hunts and any other reason to come together. It didn’t take much. We never needed much of an excuse to get together.
As time has passed and as our parents/family matriarchs and patriarchy have passed on we, the cousins, the descendants are taking those places. Things look different now. We all have our own families and mostly have moved from the old neighborhood to the big cities.
However, in recent years, and through the efforts of some of the neighborhood family members, we have been gathering for reunions to commemorate those years. And during those times, we gather as we used to, in “The Pocket”. There is plenty of food, music, plenty of adult beverages, the sharing of memories, and the honoring of those that have passed on. Not much on the racing now. We’re old and nobody wants to pull a muscle or break a hip. But it is always a great time to share with family and friends. Until next time . . .