It is a Jenkins Family tradition. Practically every holiday we would journey to my grandparent’s home on Johns Island for the family get-together. My immediate family had only a short drive down a dirt road; other family members drove for hours.
The youngins were excited, since we knew that all of us cousins would be sitting together. At first, you are somewhat insulted since you long to be a grown-up and have the honor of sitting with the adults. We did not realize how lucky we were to be sitting at our special table.
At the kid table there was no one to tell you what to eat or how to eat. You could help yourself to a mountain of mac and cheese or red rice coated in bacon grease, and you could nix the collards. You were free to lob a roll across the table or catapult green beans with your spoon.
Cholesterol? No one knew what it was. My speaker friend Charles Petty said, “If we had had cholesterol when I was a child, Momma would have probably fried it.” Plus, in the South, gravy is considered a beverage.
Drumsticks were fried in Crisco and we loved drinking our diabetes-inducing sweet tea. Chocolate delight, pecan pie, and an endless supply of benne seed cookies were displayed on the sideboard all day.
No manners were required. You could laugh out loud at that crazy cousin with your mouth wide open and with co-cola or sweet tea escaping from your nose. You didn’t have to clean your plate or listen to that proverbial lecture on starving children.
We should have known the adults were not happy sitting at the big table. Their conversations were guarded and boring. Some of the relatives did not like each other and fantasized about starting a food fight. Many of the women ate salads that resembled food on the bottom of hamster cages. They talked about the latest diet and slipped in a few condescending remarks about some of the food. Other aunts were quietly praying that their churin’ at the kid table were behaving themselves. The men talked about football, how expensive things were, and who has got what disease. You could practically hear the stress in their voices.
Not us. We did not have a care in the world and had the time of our lives.
The adult table had china; the kids used Chinet. The adult plates were carefully handled. The kids’ plates were frisbees before, after, and sometimes during the meal. The adult table was decorated with heirloom flatware and your great grandmother’s handmade tablecloth. The kid table was a card table with plastic utensils and solo cups. Our napkins were paper towels, perfect for food fights.
The adults could not eat their favorite foods. The cousins felt sorry for our parents, aunts, and uncles. We would slip them the good stuff under the table. Strange how eating turkey made the adults go to sleep while the same meat made us run around the yard.
And here is the absolute truth: don’t complain this holiday season about sitting at the kid table. Be thankful. Maturing into adulthood and earning your way to the adult table has a price; some grown-ups turn into turkeys, chickens, and hams. Lots of them grow rolls and are about as exciting as a cold plate of mashed potatoes. So relish (could not help myself) the carefree days sitting at the wonderful, carefree kid table.
We did not have a care in the world and had the time of our lives.
Jane Jenkins Herlong is a Southern humorist, Sirius XM comedian, member of the Speaker Hall of Fame, and the best-selling author of four books.
Jane travels the country sharing her sweet tea wisdom and Southern fried humor.
For information on how to contact Jane for speaking engagements or to purchase her books, CD’s or MP3’s, visit www.janeherlong.com
