To forget one’s ancestors is to be a brook without a source, a tree without a root. (Chinese Proverb)
During the time I lived in south Louisiana, this day, November 1st, was a day I came to love. The above-ground cemeteries and tombs were decorated with masses of flowers, and the colors and aromas were amazing and beautiful — I can smell the sweet, cool freshness still. This celebration (All Saints’ Day today and All Souls’ Day tomorrow) was not a familiar tradition to me, but one which I appreciate enormously, a day set aside to think of and honor those who made our lives possible.
And in that spirit, let me tell you something I just learned about my great grandmother Mattie. As you will see from the above picture, she was a “sweeper of yards.” Since I am by no means a neatnik, (I am more of the type who wanders through the house plucking cat and dog hair from the floor in clumps), this was impressive to me. What I learned was that this was a custom throughout the South, and almost everybody had swept yards, including the plantations, which were swept by slaves or servants. Especially for slaves and poor whites, the swept yard was the most important “room” of the household, the heart of the home. Again, as you can see from the above picture, the house was very small and cramped and likely hot — plus several kids were being raised here —- so you washed and cooked outside, where everything could be easily swept away.
But it also turns out there was another (very) important practical reason for that swept yard: with heavy populations of venomous snakes in the Appalachian Mountains, and poorly sealed up homes, not being invaded by a nasty snake was a priority that was right up there on the list. In fact, one of my other grandmothers was actually killed by a snake that had crawled into her home, so it must have been a real fear. By sweeping their yards down to the dirt, a perimeter of some safety could be established around the house. According to Appalachian Magazine, it was the job of children in the morning to go outside and check for snake tracks — if some led under the house, everything was put on hold until the snake was discovered and disposed of. I can still remember my own mother, normally a gentle woman who would harm nothing, being utterly vicious where snakes were concerned — perhaps very understandable in light of this history!
So, at this time set aside in our calendar to remember and honor those who have gone on before and made our lives possible, I salute you, Grandma Mattie!! I’ve heard a lot of stories about you, some of ’em good and some of ’em kinda shocking, but none more worthy of respect than knowing what you did out of love to keep your family safe and protected..