James Lawrence Wilson - my dad when he was 3

I love this photo of our dad when he was a little boy, 3 years old. It must have been taken in the spring or summer since he is barefoot and there are leaves on the bush behind him. Notice the clean-swept yard. And it was probably Sunday since he has on a "dressy" white shirt.


James Lawrence Wilson was born November 23, 1914. His parents were James Arthur Wilson and Fannie Melissa Grimes. He was 4 years old when his sister, Mattie Lena was born. She was named for her Aunt Mattie Wilson Danley (Papa Wilson's sister) and Aunt Lena (Uncle Frank Wilson's wife). I guess daddy was named for Papa Wilson (James) but I don't know anybody in the family that was named Lawrence. Maybe they just liked that name. In olden days children were usually named after someone.


My daddy could do anything he set his mind to do. He was a first class "shade tree" mechanic. He continued to work on cars until he died at age 67 from cancer. He was a farmer, carpenter, mechanic, and pretty good cook after our mother died at age 48 in 1963. He married again to Frances Mock Watson from Opp in the summer of 1967.


Daddy could make delicious peanut brittle, using an old iron skillet. He was pretty good at making jelly, jam, and preserves. And of course frying fish outdoors in a big fryer. I don't remember him ever cooking when I was living at home. I do remember that he would buy a burlap (croker) sack of fresh oysters and shuck them for us to eat with crackers. We would sit outside under the big pecan tree and he would open the oysters with his pocket knife and place them on a board near the ground. Chris, Sue and I would "lap them up". I couldn't swallow one of those slimy things now, even if I was starving!


On Sunday mornings I remember trudging to Pond Creekin the "back 40" with him, before daylight sometimes, to check his "trot lines" to see if he had caught any mudcats. And usually he would have several of those ugly, dark slimy fish with whiskers. We would bring them back home and he would skin them and we'd have them for breakfast. All of this took place before time to get dressed to go to Sunday School at 10 a.m. Other times we would get salt fish from a truck that would stop by selling them. You had to soak them first to remove some of the pickling salt before you fried them. I would love to have some salt fish again and my favorite, even to this day, the strong, dark meat mullet from the gulf or bay. Maybe it's time to go to Ft Walton, FL and eat some good mullet (which Jim does NOT like).


Other Sat. or Sun. mornings, he would shoot the squirrels in the pecan trees (stealing our pecans) and skin them and Mama Wilson would fry them (like chicken) and make gravy and biscuits to eat with them. I remember that we would eat anything that our daddy ate. I don't remember mother eating squirrels and oysters.


Other things we ate were quail, rabbits, opossums (a yearly ritual for Mama Wilson to cook for her brothers) and I don't remember what else. Once I grew up and left home, I never had these "delicious meals" again.


When I grew up and got married and moved away, it was always so special to come home and eat "good food". Daddy planted things late in the summer to have at Thanksgiving, i.e., peas and tomatoes. He always planted too much so he could share with his neighbors, even picking the vegetables for them and taking them to friends and neighbors.


I miss his pear and fig preserves which he cooked until they were dark and almost candied and his peanut brittle made with cane syrup. And his watermelons and sweet corn. And corn bread made from extra fine cornmeal, water and salt and cooked in pones in a black skillet with lots of hot oil, until there was a crust around the bread and soft inside. Sometimes we would eat the cornbread with buttermilk for supper at night.