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The 12th of January marked the 119th anniversary of my grandmother's birth. Some of you remember "Mamanier" as a loving individual who was always looking for opportunities to help others. She did a great deal of sacrificing making banquets out of butterbeans, cornbread and buttermilk. She made feasts out of fried chicken and ho cake. Ho cake? Never heard of it? It is a biscuit the size of a Lodge frying pan. Ho cake means something all together different on Metropolitan Boulevard in Atlanta. I am forever indebted to my grandmother for making me go to Sunday school at the Tallapoosa First Baptist Church and listen to Bud Jones tell us about why we should do the right things in life. She made me go to church and hear Reverend S. T. Skaggs preach hell so hot you wouldn't need the furnace on in the church in the chill of winter. My grandmother wanted me to make something out of my life. When I was in high school her dream for me was to either be a Baptist preacher if called, or United States Senator from Georgia, or the drummer on "Hee Haw". She listened to every radio program I ever did while at WWCC in Bremen. I recall her favorite song was Bill Wither's "Lean On Me". Kind of ironic that she loved that song because I leaned on her until her passing almost 26 years ago. She wasn't quite 5 feet tall and weighed maybe 90 pounds but inspite of her small stature she was a giant in my eyes.
The 13th of January marked the 20 year passing of my mother. Mary Frances Meunier Jones loved people too. She loved her morning coffee and her Winston. She taught me about people from her experiences as a waitress at various truck stops and cafes. How many of you can remember the chili spreads at Smith's Cafe or the meat loaf at Lillie's Truck Stop? My mother served up thousands of those meals. She said that axiom that the customer is always right not only works in the food service industry but in the broadcasting field as well. My mother also watched who I ran with back in high school. When I started dating my mother wanted me to have a girl's resume and recent blood work. Curfew was 11 p.m. If I was going to be late, I better find a pay phone somewhere and call her. I didn't call one time thinking an hour would not make much difference. That summer night I got to sleep on the front porch on a wooden glider. Rule of thumb, never test mama. You will never win. My mother preached education to me over and over. I struggled with algebra and chemistry at ole Tally High. She stayed on me like a fly at a church picnic. Mother would have made a great drill instructor at Parris Island for the Marines. My mother was tough, but tender. When a girl would dump me and I was dumped more times than Billy Bob Thornton, mama would always remind me that there were a lot of fish in the sea. I explained to her that I didn't have any bait. She hugged me and said hold your head high and march on. I am sure glad I listened to her advice way back when. My mother had flaws as most of us do but her personality always shined like a new silver dollar. I remember my mother scrimping and saving for my first set of drums when I was in the 9th grade. She gave me a set of Ludwig drums for finishing high school. I still have those drums and they are treasured. Mother was always encouraging the down and out. She helped some people even though she didn't have the resources. She told me to remember what Jesus said to "love ye one another" and to not to judge a person because of their appearance or what they had or didn't have. I have had a couple of good cries this week remembering my mother and grandmother. Recalling Coach Paul "Bear" Bryant's television commercials of 30 years ago for South Central Bell urging people to use long distance service. He closed the spot with an adlibed "call your mama, cause I sure wish I could call mine." Some of you are fortunate enough to do that. I envy you.

Rhubarb Jones is a Distinguished Lecturer in the Department of Communication and is Director of Special Projects at Kennesaw State University. He can be contacted at Rhubarbjones@aol.com or at P.O. Box 1001, Tallapoosa, Ga. 30176