When I first met Jane, she was in her late fifties, already a grandmother, with most of her life behind her. She lived at the end of a dirt road in Choctaw County, Alabama in a small frame house. I remember like it was yesterday driving up to her house for the first time. It was late Spring, and her yard was in full bloom with shrubs and flowers of every color and fragrance. There were about a million honeybees swarming around, drinking nectar and pollinating everything, and I was pretty nervous about getting stung by them. Jane was out in her yard working in one of her many flower beds, wearing this huge straw hat, in a pair of faded blue jeans and gardener's gloves, smiling the biggest smile I had ever seen. It is this picture I see in my mind whenever I think of her now. She always had a smile, and she loved working in her yard. She waved to me to get out, said, "Don't mind the bees, they won't sting you if you don't bother them. They're just doing their job," and she invited me to "come on in out of the sun and cool off." I guess this was the first, and best, advice she ever gave me... not to bother things that aren't bothering you. I followed her to a huge porch on the back of her house and sat down beside her on the porch swing. I had only been dating her son for a few days, but she made me feel like I had known her all of my life. Over time, I learned that Jane's back porch was the social hub of her house, where problems were discussed and wonderful home cooked food was consumed in large quantities. While we talked there on her porch that day, several of her children and grandchildren came in and out to visit, to borrow something, or just to check me out. I was struck by how obviously happy she was to see each and every one of them, and it was very apparent that her family was her world. That is the first real thing I learned from Jane ... family is everything. I ended up marrying and later divorcing her son, but I can say this... Jane always made me feel like part of her family, and she always greeted me with a big smile whenever I saw her in the years that followed. I will cherish that forever.
As I got to know this gentle southern lady, I was impressed by her work ethic. She didn't have a job that she went to every day. In fact, she did not work at a job the entire time I knew her. She was on disability when I met her due to health issues and pain that she lived with on a daily basis, but she was never idle. From early in the morning until the sun set every evening, Jane was busy. She kept a spotless house in spite of a multitude of children and adults who passed through every day. She didn't own a dishwasher or a microwave when I first knew her, and she didn't have central air or heat. She swept her bare wood floors with an old straw broom, and mopped using an old-fashioned string mop. Most of her possessions were quaint and out-dated, and her clothes were mainly old and faded , but I never heard her complain or wish for more. Jane Carter knew the meaning of being content, and she was truly at peace with her simple way of life. That is not to say that she was untidy or sloppy in any way, she was very neat, clean, and one of the most orderly people I knew. She kept herself to a scheduled routine, and she got more done in eight hours than I could do in a week.
In the very early Spring, Jane would begin her garden preparations, and she toiled in the hot southern sun nearly every day through the summer, growing vegetables in one of her gardens. The first year I knew her, she decided to break up the "new ground." When I volunteered to help, I had no idea the amount of work I was getting into. That ground started out covered in weeds, bushes, thorns, and rocks. By the time she planted the first seeds, it was a beautifully cleared, nicely rowed garden patch, and she didn't use a tractor or any other machinery to do it. I am still amazed when I consider the back-breaking work she did at her age using just a hoe, a shovel, a rake, and an ax. That was the second thing I learned from Jane... hard work wins every time. Throughout the growing season, she could be found either in the garden working, on her back porch shelling peas and butter beans, or in her kitchen canning and freezing the many vegetables she had grown. She made jellies and jams by the cases, and she was always giving me jars of preserves or some other treat she had made. Her chow-chow was famous among her family members, and my children to this day love some of her recipes that she shared with me. I am forever grateful I took the time to learn how to make her "spiced cucumber rings", as these are an absolute favorite of my kids.
I remember there was an old car in Jane's yard that she had inherited upon her sister's death. It sat like an ornament, rusty and unused, and I couldn't understand why she didn't drive it. I asked her about it one day not long after I first met her, and she replied, "Oh, I don't know how to drive. I never got my license." I was amazed. I didn't know Anyone else who couldn't drive, and it blew my mind that she didn't feel the need to drive. Her children would come and take her wherever she needed to go, or pick up things she needed in town. She did eventually try to learn, at the urging of some of her family, but she gave it up after a few times. I asked her why, and she just smiled and shrugged. I never fully understood her reluctance in this matter. Maybe her world was just complete enough, or maybe she felt everything moved too fast already. Whatever the reason, she was never unhappy about not driving, and she always had everything she needed. I learned the meaning of real contentment from Jane... and that true happiness comes not from external sources, but from inside of you.
As I got to know her through the years, I learned a lot about what made Jane the strong woman she was. She had a hard life as a child growing up in North Alabama. (It seemed when she talked about living there that it was a completely different and foreign country, and I always capitalize North Alabama in my mind, the way she did when she spoke of it.) She married a man named Leon Carter as a young woman, and moved to Choctaw County, where she raised nine children successfully, and mostly by herself. Her husband was a difficult man who made her life hard in the earlier years of their marriage. They separated but never divorced, and when I met her, he was living down the road in a small shack house he built. They had a very different type of relationship, one I never fully understood, or liked. But Jane had her own ideas of right and wrong, fair and unfair. Almost every morning, he would come over with a dozen eggs and a slab of bacon, and she would cook breakfast for him. She would say, "Cooking for him doesn't cost me anything but time, and I have plenty of that." I could tell they still cared for each other in their own way, in spite of their many disagreements and differences. This was another thing I learned from Jane... to find a way to get along with people and make the best of situations and relationships instead of throwing them away completely, and to live by your own rules if you feel they are right.
One of the highlights of the week in Jane's world was Sunday dinner. She would plan the menu all week, and one or more of her children usually provided the meat for the big family meal. She would start preparing on Saturday afternoon, and she would cook until dark, then start again bright and early Sunday morning. Her kitchen was small, but she really put out a spread for everyone. The family would gather on her back porch on Sunday at noon for fellowship and good food. My mouth still waters when I think of her fried chicken, crispy and juicy with just the right amount of browning. Nobody before or since have I met who could fry chicken like Jane, it was an art form for her. My other favorite was her chocolate cake. She made it from scratch, with real cocoa, and she made this white frosting to go on top that was absolutely divine. I am not a big cake lover, but that chocolate cake with white frosting won me over every time. Jane's cornbread was another treat. Sometimes she would add different ingredients to it, and I was never disappointed. My all time favorite was when she would add home made pork cracklins to it... man, was that stuff good. I remember when I was pregnant with my son, she would call me up and say, "I made some of that cracklin cornbread you love, come and get you a piece." I never passed up the opportunity to walk over and share in that goodness with her, sitting on the porch swing talking about the little things that were important to us. I treasure some of the talks we had then, and I truly miss that in my life now. At the time, I didn't realize how special that was, or how important that lesson would be later on... to always make time for the little things, because it's the little things that matter most. Thank you, Jane, for always making time for me, and forgive me for not making more time for you.
Whenever I think of times I spent with Jane, one of the things that always stands out in my memory is that she almost always had a small child with her. Part of this was because she had nine children of her own, and most of them had at least two or more kids, which she babysat for at one time or another. "Granny" as they called her, had a huge part in the raising of many of her grandchildren, and she truly loved being a part of their lives. Whether it was a newborn baby or a five year old, she had the gentle patience of Job. I never recall her raising her voice or getting angry, but all of her children and grandchildren respected and adored her. She was the type of grandmother who would cuddle the babies, play with the toddlers, and listen intently to the teenagers, giving advice when needed, or just a shoulder to cry on. I remember when I was first dating her son, my little girl was a little over a year old. I was nervous about how she would treat her, since she wasn't her flesh and blood grandchild. I needn't have worried, there was enough room in Jane's heart and world for my daughter to be loved plenty, and that big heart of hers just took her in. Later, when my son was born, she welcomed him into the fold with those same open arms that she embraced all of her family with. Being a Granny was one of the pure joys of her life, and she always had some kind of special treat for the little ones when they came to see her. I remember she told me onetime, "Babies and little kids just want to be loved. If you love them, they will always love you back." Wow, how profound that is! How wise she was to understand that simple truth, that love is always the answer. This was the greatest lesson I ever learned from Jane, and I pray my children and grandchildren will always know that same kind of unconditional love from me.
I mentioned at the beginning of this how much she loved to work in her yard, and I want to say more now. Jane's yard was a horticultural showcase. She gave new meaning to the phrase "green thumb", and I never knew her to plant anything that didn't thrive. Her flowering shrubs, trees, and plants were beautiful to behold, and she was happiest when she was among them. She toiled in the hot sun or in the drizzling rain, whatever it took, and it was an absolute labor of love. I guess it was this love of flowering things that made me feel so at home with her, because my own mother shares that same love. In fact, back then, when my mother visited, she often went over to Jane's house to chat and admire her flower beds, and most times she came away with a sprig or a cutting of something to plant in her own yard. Jane was a self-taught expert on most flowering plants and nearly all trees. If I needed to know the name of something, I just called her up and she would tell me anything I wanted to know about it. Even years later, when I happened to drop by one day, I was telling her how much I wanted to find a Scaly Bark Hickory Tree. Jane proceeded to describe exactly to me what one looked like, what kind of leaf it had, and where in the woods near her house I could find one. I ventured out there in those woods, and sure enough, there were little Hickory saplings right where she said they would be. This from a lady who had not been able to go into those woods for several years due to health problems! I was so impressed, but when I said something about it, she just brushed it off like it was nothing. We spent a few minutes on her porch that day talking over old times, discussing children and grandchildren and a hundred other important little things. She was still the same quiet, gentle lady that I had met over 20 years before, and she still made me feel like I had come home. I guess that was the last time I saw Jane, standing on her porch on a Spring morning, with her big straw hat on, wearing her faded jeans, smiling and waving to me, with her yard in full bloom, and the bees buzzing all around.... she was a lady out of time, timeless in her own way. I drove away feeling blessed, and I was... blessed to have had this wonderful, kind lady be a part of my life.
When my daughter called me to tell me of Jane's passing, it was this picture that came to my mind. I thought how much I would miss her, miss knowing she was there, at the end of a dirt road, tending her flowers. She never owned a computer, had no idea of Facebook, the internet, or email. She still had an old timey land line phone, she never had a driver's license or a passport, and her world was lived mostly within a 10 mile radius of her home. In so many of the ways that we measure success today, she didn't add up. This I can say from the bottom of my heart, though.... Sarah Jane Carter was a successful woman in every way that mattered. She was a rare and special lady, a dying breed of true Southern Gentlewomen, and the world seems a little colder, a little emptier without her. Always, I will remember Jane and the lessons I learned from her, and always I will miss her...
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| Jane, doing what she loved best, holding a baby... here with my newborn son in August, 1988. |
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