|
Hi Rudy
On Saturday, I
just happened to be googling myself . . . just for fun .
. . and I found that a previously published poem of
mine, “Artichoke Pickle Passion” had been printed in
the Washington Post on April 17th.
I was surprised and
thrilled!!!! This was a poem that I had written about
10+ yrs. ago, and it was a memory poem about a time in
the 1950s in Rocky Mount, NC, when my sister and I went
with our aunt to dig up something called "artichokes."
The yard we went
into belonged to a soft spoken elderly lady named Miz
Olivia...who lived up the street. Miz Olivia always sat
on the front porch of her duplex wood frame
apartment...or could be found leaning over the banister
on her back porch watching people and traffic. She
usually wore a "stocking cap" on her head, a faded
flowered dress, reddish-toned stocking that were
rolled at the top of the calf of her leg, and knotted
just below her knee,...and she always had her lip full
of snuff!
I recall not
wanting to go dig in that yard, because all day long,
she was spitting . . . spitting out her ever-present
snuff . . . spitting out that "tobacco juice!" But, as
children, we followed instructions, and we went and dug
anyway. When we'd dug up those artichokes, and after
they were transformed into a wonderful pickle, I could
NOT get enough of them! (Smile)
One Saturday
afternoon in 1972, when I was pregnant with my first
child, I asked my husband to drive me to Rocky
Mount (120 miles round trip from our home in Kinston) so
that I could buy some artichoke pickle from a
local gourmet grocery store. He said "no", as he didn't
realize how badly I craved those pickles. Therefore, I
called my mother in Rocky Mount, and asked her if she
would go to the store and buy two quarts of artichoke
pickle for me, and then send them to me on a Trailways
Bus that afternoon. She readily agreed ....and about 4
hrs later, I went down to the bus station and picked up
my pickle package. Needless to say, I pigged out all
weekend, until I was sick, yet happy!
Years later, as I
researched the origin of artichokes for this poem,
I learned that this vegetable was not a "true"
artichoke, but was the root of sunflowers. There is a
whole farm for growing and processing them in Hamilton,
NC and I'm still a consumer, no pun intended!
See Note:
From NC State Dept. of Horticultural Science. The
Jerusalem artichoke grows in most areas of North
Carolina and is often used for pickling purposes. The
fresh tuber tastes like a water chestnut and is used in
salads. Tubers can also be cooked like potatoes. The
edible portion of this member of the sunflower family is
the tuber or swollen end of an underground stem, which
in some respects resembles a potato.
Thanks for letting
me share this poem and memory with you. The article that
was in the Washington Post [04/17/2008]
last Thursday is shown below.
Sincerely yours,
Beverly Fields Burnette,
Poet
/ Storyteller / School Social Worker/ Rocky Mount
native
North Carolina Arts Council | Beverly Fields Burnette
*
* * * *
posted 26 April 2008 |
