This weekend I had the pleasure of traveling two hours south of Richmond to Rocky Mount North Carolina. I and my three sons traveled with my cousin and his three sons. We went there to celebrate my uncles sixty-somethinth birthday the best way we know how - eating. There was house full of food, people, and most importantly, love. There was only one small wrinkle in the festive occasion. That was the one I call Bessie Lou.
On Friday, Bessie Lou got delivered to the back yard of the farm style house and was immediately tied up and placed in the dog house. When my aunt arrived home, she called her son, my cousin in Richmond, and asked him to speak to his father about sparing the precious little Bessie Lou. Unfortunately for her and Bessie Lou, my cousin did not oblige, and my uncle followed through with his plans.
By the time we arrived Saturday, the house was full of family, friends, and people I have yet to categorize. We gathered around the table and my uncle asked me to bless the food. I did as I was asked, and did so quickly, knowing that I can't stand it when somebody prays a looooooonnnngggg time when I'm ready to eat. I waited about twenty-five minutes before I made my plate. And my first question was, "Where is Bessie Lou?" My uncle pointed to the foil pan in the middle of the table and said right there. For some reason, I could not bring myself to take a bite of Bessie Lou (goat) barbecue.
Growing up in Jersey I had a number of friends who served goat. But just like I don't visualize the chicken running around the yard before it's fried, my New Jersey friends didn't show me the goat before they shot it.
Fortunately, food was not the focus for the gathering, but family. Sorry Bessie Lou.
Before and After
On Friday, Bessie Lou got delivered to the back yard of the farm style house and was immediately tied up and placed in the dog house. When my aunt arrived home, she called her son, my cousin in Richmond, and asked him to speak to his father about sparing the precious little Bessie Lou. Unfortunately for her and Bessie Lou, my cousin did not oblige, and my uncle followed through with his plans.
By the time we arrived Saturday, the house was full of family, friends, and people I have yet to categorize. We gathered around the table and my uncle asked me to bless the food. I did as I was asked, and did so quickly, knowing that I can't stand it when somebody prays a looooooonnnngggg time when I'm ready to eat. I waited about twenty-five minutes before I made my plate. And my first question was, "Where is Bessie Lou?" My uncle pointed to the foil pan in the middle of the table and said right there. For some reason, I could not bring myself to take a bite of Bessie Lou (goat) barbecue.
Growing up in Jersey I had a number of friends who served goat. But just like I don't visualize the chicken running around the yard before it's fried, my New Jersey friends didn't show me the goat before they shot it.
Fortunately, food was not the focus for the gathering, but family. Sorry Bessie Lou.
Before and After
Comments
When I read about you eating, I think about how you said that you take a plate and go hide so you can enjoy your food. I guess it didn't happen on this visit uh?
I love to click on my post and not only see what you've said, but also to see what pictured you've posted. You're turning into America's next Top Male model (smile)
See "You" soon!
Love.
A cousin of mine took this picture the day before. Apparently they ordered a goat like it was Chinese Food or Pizza. Tammy I'm with you on the meat. I had a plate full after I was sure I knew what was what. Fortunately Free Spirit, there was so much food, I didn't have to hide, but I did have to force myself to stop since I'm trying to drop about 10 pounds. When we all get together for that cookout, I'll put it all back on.
Love you both.
SLC
Ok, I'm back...I think I am going to wait for SLC's bar-b-queeee!
See ya,
Stacye
I am just floating through blog world.
I grew up in Maryland and went to school at UNC and am very familiar with Richmond and Rocky Mount.