Simple traditions can be comforting
Many folks in our community didn’t grow up here. One thing the comments on this column have taught me is this. Most of those people of my generation grew up in a similar small town. They grew up with much the same morals and values those from around here treasure. Our memories are their memories. They just experienced them in a different place.
Some may think I remember the past with rose colored glasses. This couldn’t be further from the truth. There were bad times as well as many of the good times we had. Though I was raised right, I didn’t always act like it. My bad behavior almost always occurred at home. I knew better than to act out in public.
Mama was always the voice of reason when I misbehaved. Daddy wasn’t always so gentle when handing out discipline. I told myself when I became a parent, I would be easier on my child. I would never be like my Daddy. In time, I have become very much like him. Looking back, I believe he parented the best he knew how. Every decision he made; I believe he made to make me better.
Traditions are very much a part of small-town life. For example, Granddaddy Collett always mowed his grass on Thursday. If it rained on Thursday, he would mow it on Friday. The only reason he ever gave me for this was that he wanted it to look good for the weekend.
When I became old enough to mow the grass, it became my job. Daddy wanted it mowed on Thursday just like he had seen Granddaddy do all his life. He would tell me he wanted it to look good for the weekend. At the time, it made no sense to me why grass had to be mown on a certain day.
This changed when I became an adult. I have always wanted my grass mowed on Thursday. When it rains on Thursday, it drives me nuts. I want the yard to look good for the weekend. And it’s not like I’m having visitors. It just seems to be an important tradition passed down from my kin.
There came a time when Granddaddy Collett was no longer able to mow his grass. When Daddy would go over there to mow it, on Thursday of course, Granddaddy would follow behind him the entire time. He would interject often when he felt like the grass wasn’t being cut to his standards. It drove Daddy crazy. And it took twice as long to mow.
There came a day when Daddy was no longer able to mow the grass. When that day came, it became my job. I didn’t mind doing it. If we begrudge helping our parents, there ain’t much to us. Every step I took with that mower, Daddy was right there to tell me how I wasn’t doing it right. I couldn’t help but laugh on the inside. He had become just like Granddaddy without even knowing it.
I’m not sure traditions are as important to younger generations. Maybe they are but it just doesn’t seem like it. The tradition of mowing the grass on Thursday may seem silly to some. If it does, that’s OK. It’s not silly at all to me. Following the tradition brings me a comfort I really can’t explain. Other than to say, it makes me feel close to Daddy and Granddaddy. Even if someone else mows it, it’s on Thursday.
The older I get, the more I pursue being like my parents and grandparents. They have given me some great examples to follow. A lot of the traditions are no longer being carried on.
That makes me sad. At the same time, new traditions have taken their place. As an adult, I can only hope my daughter adopts some of our new traditions after I am long gone.
Some things in my life will always remain the same. America will always be my country. Georgia will always be my state. Cherokee will always be my county. Canton will always be my city. Keithsburg will always be my community. Chalcedonia Baptist Church will always be the place where I got saved.
To end on a lighter note. Win or lose, the Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets will always be the college football team I cheer for. And not to beat a dead horse. But I will always want my grass mowed on Thursday. Just like my Daddy, Bobby Lee “Cotton” Collett, and my Granddaddy, Joe Brown Collet did.
I hope you have some simple traditions which bring you comfort.