Pecans and Fireflies

It was a late September autumn evening in Seattle when my husband, daughter, and her partner, Sheri, arrived to hear writer Alice Walker read from her latest children's book entitled Why War Is Never A Good Idea. We arrived early at City Hall downtown so that we could be assured a seat for the event. We took our places dutifully, made small talk with those around us, and waited for the doors to open. We were greatly looking forward to the evening since Alice Walker has been a favorite writer of ours since the wonderful Color Purple was published.

I was surprised when Alice Walker came unto the stage in that she had a quiet, small voice and also that she looked very young and attractive. I guess I had expected her voice to be as strident and booming in person as it is in her activist writing. I also had forgotten that she was my age, not the ancient matriarch I had also imagined in my mind because of her spiritual insight and wisdom.

After the reading, the audience was promised that Alice would sign copies of our books. We could also have a brief time for pictures and/or questions. My question for her as I waited for her to write an unrecognizable signature in my book was, "Do you ever miss anything about the South?" I knew that she was raised in Georgia, had left rather early in her life, and came back only to participate in the civil rights marches of the 1960's. She at first said, "No," but then she revised her answer and added, "No, I take that back. I miss pecans . . . and I miss fireflies."

I guess every child who has been raised in the South could also share Alice Walker's memories. My aunt Elise was blessed with a number of old large pecan trees in her yard. Since she was a widow, she and her son, David, would gather the pecans from the ground every fall, shell them, and put many away for baking in the future. They also sold all the extras in order to get their Christmas money. As for the fireflies, Southern children often have to be coaxed inside at the end of long summer days by mothers who are more threatening than encouraging. Chasing, catching, and bottling fireflies was often a competition to see who could gather the most. It was almost a magical light as the various jars glowed after darkness descended.

The South has so many more attributes, however, than these two. It is sad that--perhaps because of the racial discrimination in her time--Alice Walker remembers only two.