Dramn Biscuits and Sunday Reverence

If this old house could talk,
it would tell passionate,
crazy stories of love transpiring
around the dining room table:

Daddy, as a young man, feigning his favorite
rendition of some Athens old-timer, for us kids:

“My wife Corrie (pause)

makes the best dramn biscuits (pause)

you ever et,”

which inevitably resulted in Mother being
goaded into her sanctimonious “Now, Marion!”
for Daddy virtually saying damn during Sunday dinner.

It seemed to be rehearsed each and every time:
we children giggled, the fit of laughter beginning at the first pause
and then peaking just in-between dramn and Now, Marion!
yet it always revitalized and renewed the family bond,
every bit as much as drawing straws for who would get the
coveted chicken breast on Sundays, another family tradition.

You could just feel the reverence for family when
Daddy said, “My wife Corrie makes the best dramn biscuits
you ever et,” as we sat around the dinner table on Sundays.

©2013 Diane Landy

Is it just my imagination, or isn't Mother looking a lot like Jackie O. and Daddy, like Sinatra?
Is it just my imagination, or isn’t Mother looking a lot like Jackie O. and Daddy, like Sinatra?

from If This Old House Could Talk
(A collection of poems I’m presently writing about growing up in Southern WV)

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