To hear my grandmother she has saved more marriages than an expert with what she called "mother wit".
"Mother what!"
"Mother wit. It’s what some people are born wit’. They just know how to handle things by instinct."
"Is that good, Grandma?" I said my mouth stuffed with chitterlings and cole slaw. If you don’t know it, chitterlins is the intestines of a pig that gets boiled until tender then eaten with hot sauce, cornbread and cole slaw. It stinks something awful but they taste good. Let’s put it this way, white folks eat kidneys and colored folks eat chitt’lins. I blinked at Grandmother’s conversation.
"Of course, it’s good! Without mother wit you get into more trouble than good thinkin’ can keep you out."
"Oh," I said, but I didn’t know what she meant. I never did. She always talked about being a woman and I had a chest flat as a Pepsi after it ran out of fizz. I liked boys but I didn’t have much hair so all I could do is look at most boys and wish. Besides everytime I got close to one I’d start sweatin’ like a pig who smells a Negro holiday.
"The reason I keep tryin’ to school you is because I don’t want you to grow up to be no foolish woman."
"What?" I said pushing my plate forward for more of everything. I watched her go to the pot and put a small strand of chit’lin in my plate and cut a finger tip of cornbread. I frowned when Grandmother started rationing the food cause I could eat ‘til the Rapture come.
"Baby, one day you gone start likin’ boys, and they gone start liking you, sso you better get smart good. Cause if you don’t watch it, they’ll be tryin’ to get into yo’ pocketbook."
"Huh!"
"Child, cain’t nobody teach you nothing! Yo’ pocketbook," she said and pointing to my kooshi.
"Oh!" I said as she slapped a hunk of butter on my cornbread and I was in heaven. Let her tell her story. I didn’t mind one bit."Yes, you can teach me, Gran, only I don’t get you too good bein’ as I am ain’t got the woman’s call."
"Just cause you ain’t had yo’ period don’t mean you got to be no fool!"
"No, ma’am."
"Well, listen about when you get and marry a good man."
"Grandma! I’ll be a hundred before then."
"Shush up and listen. One day you gone get married and I don’t want you to be no foolish woman especially if you got the kind of man that works hard, comes home and ain’t stingy wit’cha."
I licked butter from between my fingers and listened to Granny like she was tee vee.
"There was this woman worked on my job. Foolish woman. Had a man-a good man-didn’t do nothin’ but work, come home, take off his shoes, eat and go to bed. She complained that his feet stank something awful."
"His feet be so loud the people next door knock on the door with foot spray," she'd say. "Now, baby, I had to laugh at that."