We were brought up hand to mouth
Not rich, by any means
Daddy worked hard to buy the grub
For the bowl that held the beans

It was full of gravy for breakfast
Then carefully washed and put away
For supper, it held a poor man's staple
Pinto beans that were cooked all day

Sometimes, we had chicken on Sunday
But the bowl wasn't just set aside
It held Mother's pudding or dumplings
That she always served with pride

The distance between breakfast and supper
Seemed so long on a cold winter day
Mother filled that old bowl with leftovers
And homemade chow-chow she had put away

Each of us kids would grab a spoon
Then line up around that bowl
We must have looked a pitiful sight
It was so good, bless my soul

Every so often, Daddy fixed us a treat
Of sliced bananas and sugar and milk
The spoons flew fast and furiously
As they slid down our throats like silk

Mother also had a big old spoon
For serving everything that bowl held
Like the strawberry flavored gelatin
Left on the cold back porch 'till it jelled

At times, the beans were accompanied by
Green onions and a big batch of flitters
With a big glob of butter on the top
Just remembering it gives me the jitters

Not only was it used for serving
That old bowl was good for mixing
Batter for cakes and pudding for pies
Homemade biscuits with all the fixings

Those really were the "good old days"
That I still think of now and then
Tasting all the goodies served in that bowl
Makes a good game of "Remember when..?"

Kathleen McCoy Eldridge
© March 3, 2011
All Rights Reserved