If there is one thing I look forward to when I go back home - other than being with my family and having unlimited access to fried catfish - it is a music circle. Mama pulled one together a few weeks ago at The Woolworth in Selma. Originally we were hoping to open the event to the public, but once I got down there, things started moving too fast for us to get it all organized. We decided to keep the evening to family and close friends.
Before everyone arrived, I warmed up a big pot of chili and set out a platter of pimento cheese and tortilla chips for scooping. We don’t usually serve dessert at something like this, but I had a spare banana cream pie leftover from that day’s lunch. Out to the table it went.
We set up a circle of chairs in the middle of the dining room and in walked some of the finest people I know with their guitar cases, hey y’alls, and hugs. I noticed a stranger with a backpack near the front door - I went over to let him know we were setting up for an event, but he would be welcome to look at the art in the space. He mentioned he was traveling the southern states by way of Germany. I asked if he had ever been to a real music circle, in the same way that my mother will ask random strangers in New York City if they know her daughter. His answer was no, as I knew it would be. I told him to stay for as long as he liked, have a bowl of chili and listen to the sounds of the south.
The circle moves clockwise, every picker has something ready to play on their next round. Sometimes there’s a solo performance, but most often this group plays crowd pleasing favorites that everyone can play or sing along with. My Aunt Linda (top left) croons a two part harmony with my sister. Willie. Haggard. Marty Robbins. Hot bowls of chili, in between. John Prine. Patti Griffin. Cash. Hank Sr. Old Crow Medicine Show. Occasionally, we will get a new song from an old timer - and Louis Flournoy (bottom left with the Alabama hat) gives us that new song this time around- Elvis’ Baby What You Want Me To Do. Lewis is in his 80’s and his voice sounds like something from another era. Another one to add to my Bama playlist. From anywhere in the world, I can press play and hear the sound of home.
My aunt plays Give My Love to Rose, a song my grandpa always sang to us, and when it comes around to her again she plays Columbus Stockade Blues. If I had to pick an all-time favorite, it would be this one. I watch as the magic of that rhythm hits Jack Bearden (bottom right, age 14, switching between a banjo and acoustic guitar). Another song preserved. Mama plays Jackson Browne’s These Days, for my Uncle Bobby who passed away two years ago. Daddy is quietly strumming along with Bobby’s red guitar pick. Nancy Z, a guitar player with incredible rhythm, somehow keeps the beat on the side of her guitar while she sings some old blues from Mississippi John Hurt. My dad plays mostly Skynard, Prine and Haggard songs, but everyone loves it when he plays Will the Circle Be Unbroken. Jerry, my mom’s best friend for over 30 years plays banjo and sings so quietly we can hardly hear him. A long time ago, Jerry lost his wife and two kids in a terrible car crash. He plays mostly old gospel hymns. Aunt Linda’s turn again - All My Tears by Ane Brun which she says she would like for someone to sing at her funeral. No, I tell her, we’ll be too much of a mess for any singing when that day comes. When they start up with Wagon Wheel, the German sings along.
When Doc arrived, my dad’s best friend since high school (top right, next to Aunt Linda), he put a pile of old pictures in my hands. The first one in the stack was a photo of my parents on their wedding day. Maybe it was the stress of the past few months, combined with a recent family loss, but I felt tears burn my face. I am not much of a crier, so this surprised even me.
Papa Allen (bottom right) taught my mama (top right) how to play guitar when she was 16. They married young and divorced when I was ten, but for all of these years my parents have set aside whatever issues they had with each other to make sure I would have both parents present - and together - in my life. Somehow my parents have maintained this same circle of friends as well. I realize as I type this, how incredibly fortunate I am.
Now that I’ve had some time to reflect on my recent trip to Alabama, I think my tears came out of deep admiration for all of these people. They have known each other longer than I have been alive. They came up before folks started living on phones. My dad and Doc pick guitars every Wednesday night. They sit under a screened in porch, rain or shine. Sometimes my mama joins. On Thursdays, I get the run down on what Doc cooked for supper. Cornbread, three bean soup, meatloaf, sometimes steak chili. In the summer, it’s usually chicken salad. If I am home on a Wednesday, I sit on that porch like I never left.
I have been observing this group for 42 years. Heard all of their stories, celebrated the births of their grandchildren, grieved the losses of their gone-to-soon loved ones and listened to them sing these same songs countless times. In this day and age, friendships like this are a straight up rarity.
Dad’s turn again, he’s telling how he remembers walking by Rive’s department store, not far from here, on Broad Street with my Grandpa. He saw the new Beatle’s album in the window - Yesterday and Today - said he went right in and bought it with his lawn money. It is rounds and rounds of this sort of thing. When the music stops, a story starts. A slice of pie, another memory, a smoke break, a joke….a hey, did y’all ever hear this one…?
When it was all over, Alex, our new German friend put this sketch in my hands. Said it was the most moving experience he has ever had in America.
Buttermilk & Tahini Dressing
Everyone in Selma, even the good ole’ boys liked this buttermilk tahini dressing. I’ll give you two recipes, just in case you are not sure about mixing tahini and buttermilk. I love to serve this dressing over a salad of chopped kale, golden raisins, sunflower seeds and croutons. It is also very good with roast chicken.