On 29 Jan 2006 03:52:59 +0100, Wayne Boatwright
<wayneboatwright_at_gmail.com> wrote:

>Exactly so. I remember clearly when my grandfather died. I was seven
>years old. My grandparents lived in rural MS. He was "laid out in the
>parlor", as was typical of that day. I have never seen so much food, all
>homemade by neighbors, friends, and family, and never so many people in
>one house in my life, even to this day. I remember, too, that it was the
>first time I had ever seen or eaten egg custard pie. It is still one of
>my favorites, and always reminds me of my grandfather.

my gawd Wayne, your post flashed me back to three years old when I
traveled to my Great Grandfather's funeral in rural North Carolina.
They had him layed out on display in one of the bedrooms of the house
and there were lots of people milling around the house. I especially
remember wandering through the kitchen, past the "wood stove" where
someone was cooking and raising lids over the burner area with flames
jumping out of that stove. My Great Grandmother was used to turning
out huge meals of country ham, scrambled eggs, grits, bisquits and red
eye gravy for her huge family of eight kids.

Bill