Mama Missy

A heartfelt story about Mama Missy, the woman who helped raise me and taught me kindness, courage, and the joy of simple days fishing, cooking, and growing up in Goose Creek.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:02):
Hey, so Chilli, I'm back and it's a nice being
with you. I have a little bit different type of story.
This is a very serious one about a person who
meant so much to me and was one of the
most important and is one of the most important people

(00:24):
in my life. It's called Mama Missy. Annie Morgan and
her husband Alexander moved from Morgan City, Louisiana, to Goose Creek,
Texas in the maiden nineteen thirties. Sadly, that's all the
history I have or will ever have on this very

(00:47):
important figure in my life. Annie, or Mama Missy as
she was known, was the beloved housekeeper, cook, nanny, daily
companion of my grandmother, my mom. The two of them laughed, cooked, traveled,
and tended family with observed kindness and respect. Between the

(01:10):
age of five and eight, Missy and I were constance
summer companions. I obeyed her every directive and morning without
question or response other than yes, ma'am, she said, missus Drew,
if you don't mind, Mama Missy, I'll get that belt
with nails in it and whoop you the belt with

(01:33):
nails and it hung on a faceted glass door knob
on the wall facing side of the kitchen door. I
never saw that door close to expose the belt. I
did know by her instruction that if I ever looked
behind the door, I faced a whooping with that belt.

(01:56):
Years went by, and I summoned the courage, and I
peered behind the door. I knew the belt had joined
the ranks of Santa Claus, the tooth Fairy, and the
Easter Bunny. But I benefited from the from the experience, Lord, yes,
I did now. Devil's Elbow was a local fishing spot

(02:18):
at the confluence of Cedar Bough and Galveston Bay. The
water was salty and messy, and I crab for blue
point crabs all summer. We also caught speckled trout, redfish,
and croakers what localists called an ocean perch. On occasion,

(02:39):
I hooked a saltwater catfish or gaff top, as Messy
would call them. The catfish had a horny spike on
their dorsal fin that burned like fire if it pierced
your skin. Missy always took these fishes off my hook
as she was stung by their fin. She rubbed the

(03:01):
fish's tail on the wound, relieving the pain. Immediately now
our trip home. After Missy and I were fishing, we
were both sitting in the back seat of my grandmother's plymouth,
being driven safely away from Devil's elbow. Our cane fishing

(03:24):
poles hung out the window went back, bending like reeds
in the brisk Gulf of Mexico wind. After we had drive.
After we arrived at my mom's house, I helped Missy
clean our and ice our catch. It was a good

(03:44):
I was a good crab cleaner, and I knew within
twenty four hours wonderful crab and oakrah gumbo would be
steaming on the stove. Homemade wheat bread freshly churned butter
were close behind a gumbo. I went with my mum
daily to the Baytown Woods to pick Missy up. I

(04:06):
tagged along with her home as well. I begged to
be able to spend the night at missus and occasionally
got my wish. The Morgan's house was a frame on
cypress stumps. The chicken wire fence surrounded the property, keeping
all the chickens off safer, in soundin within reach. The

(04:29):
chickens were everywhere. They were on the roof, under the house,
and in the hen house. I loved all the exciting
smells and movement of all these living creatures at Missy's.
When I got to stay there, I slept on a beautiful,
well worn but delightfully delightfully comfortable place souf in her

(04:50):
living room. I woke up early, eager to make the
short chip through the chickens to the outhouse. On my
I returned to the house, I was greeted by the
Aroma's woodfire stove, bacon frying, and biscuits bacon in their
journey from Doe to Dunn. I treasure that memory. On

(05:13):
Saturday night, I joined Missy walking down the inner urban
tracks to her house to her church. We set back
in from the front to be able to catch all
the glory that was bounced around the church. The spontaneous
joy that erupted into song, dance, and praise made me
feel wonderfully whole. These were real people dressed in their

(05:38):
finest garments. The spirit was everywhere. I sure didn't get
the same feeling from the parishioner sitting and kneeling and
dozing at Trinity Episcopal Church. Trinity was located across the
tracks from the Baytown Woods and was where my family remembers.

(05:59):
I remember how Ken I felt to the black glass
eyed fox stole of Missus Jarvis, who wore it every Sunday.
The fox and I work for decoration and silence. I
accepted that responsibility. The summer of nineteen fifty seven was approaching.

(06:23):
I was eleven years old. On May twenty fourth, my
dear grandmother Mama had a heart attack and died. It
is prophetic that the biggest part of her was also
the most vulnerable. Before I knew of her death, that
he took me to Any Budge and Uncle Bunk's house

(06:45):
across Goose Creek from my mom's house. They were loved
ken of the first order. Their home was built in
eighteen forty two by Colonel Duke, a member of the
Army of General Sam Houston and grandfather of Any Budge.
The yard was coastal Bermuda grass on rich sandy loam soil.

(07:10):
There were several large cypress trees and two oil When
I was bumping in the front yard, I stood between
the two trees, knowing something big was happening. There were
people I knew and some I did not know, that
came through the yard into the house. Their mood was sad.

(07:31):
I remember my dad walking across the yard towards me.
He stopped directly in front of me, took my face
in his hands, and said, drew your grandmother's dead. I
fell to my knees and then my chest, trying to
escape the terrible news by burrowing into the soft soil

(07:52):
and grass. My life would never be the same. It
was not. Missy worked for my grandfather that summer. We
did not gorf gold fishing, nor did I visit her home.
I played Little League baseball most of the summer and
stared beyond the outfield fence at the homes of the

(08:15):
Baytown Woods. I knew Missy was as heartbroken as I was.
As the school year started in September, I heard that
Missy had moved to California to live with her daughter
toach as with my grandmother. I did not get to
tell her goodbye. The Bielstein House at nineteen sixteen, dear

(08:39):
Rainferry Road was occupied by my grandfather, but for me
it was empty. The heroines had departed. But as I
write these words or speak these words, my love and
gratitude for those two women is a live and deeply

(09:01):
ordered my soul. I learned how to be kindness and
accepting from these gracious, gracious, beautiful women. That's all for
this this little chapter. Chill out, peace, watch those intersections,
and for God's sakes love one another. Can