My favorite dessert growing up was "black bottom pie." It took two days to make, and my mother typically made it for Christmas. She got the recipe from Weidman's restaurant in Meridian. (It was unique--ginger snap crust, thin dark chocolate layer, custard layer flavored with bourbon, fresh whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles.) As the woman at the restaurant said: "If there is pie in heaven, it's black bottom pie.
Meridian was about 40 miles from Butler, which was 15 miles from Nanafalia, where my mother lived for many years. Since our firm has an office in Jackson now, I have driven through Meridian a couple of times in the past year. Each time, I thought about stopping to buy one of the pies, but each time I was headed back to Bham at a late hour, so no pie.
Friday, I drove James to NOLA for a soccer tournament. Due to torrential rains, it was cancelled Saturday morning. James was disappointed, his teammates were disappointed (they won the tournament last year), and several parents were mad--the tournament organizers had known all week that heavy rains were coming, but didn't cancel until we all drove to NOLA. Personally, I think the soccer organizers were in a tough spot. Several hotels were banking their entire weekends on the soccer tournament, and you never know how the weather may change. In any event, about 45 minutes out of NOLA, I thought of "black bottom pie."
James checked the Internet, and found the phone number for Weidman's. It was founded in 1870, apparently was closed for some time, but recently reopened. The lady at Weidman's told me that they still made the pie, and I could get one to go. So, I did.
It turned out that they had changed the recipe slightly, not so many ginger snaps, thicker chocolate layer, and no bourbon flavor--but it still tasted wonderful. We obviously took a piece to my mother. Since they had changed the recipe, and since my mother taught foods and nutrition, and since she is a perfectionist, we weren't certain how she would receive the pie. Would it be as good as the one that she used to make? I didn't think so--it had lost some of the unique flavors. But my mother loved it! She was able to enjoy it without being critical or disappointed. This reflects a huge breakthrough for my mother. She and I are much alike. We want things done with excellence, and we hate to see things change. What a joy it was to see her enjoy it without having to judge it!
Things only got better when I visited with her last nite. For some time, I have wanted to ask her about how she had persevered given the loss of so many loved ones in her family. Finally, we were able to talk about that--it started with the "black bottom pie." She told me about Sam Dozier vowing to eat two pieces of the pie when they drove to Meridian one night. She told me how Weidman's was the only restaurant in the vicinity with fresh fish from the Gulf. Her father always got broiled flounder, and so did she because he did (she so loved her father).
I then asked her how Sam Dozier was related to Creagh Dozier. Creagh was my aunt's second husband. She had been married to my mother's oldest brother, Jack, who was killed during WWII at age 21. My mother told me that Sam was Creagh's brother and that allowed me to ask about Jack. My mother told me that she was 18 when Jack died. She said that it was quite a shock. They sent everyone off to the war with fanfare, and wrote so many letters, and said so many prayers--it was hard to believe that he wasn't coming back. She said that it was surreal. Then, she began telling herself that he might not be dead. The War Dept had been known to make mistakes, but he never came back.
I then began talking to my mother about when her other family members died. So, Jack died in 1942 (he was 21--my mother was 18). Then, her mother died of breast cancer in 1947 or 1948 (she was around 50--my mother was 23 or 24). Then, her father died eight years later. Then, her sister Violet died in 1968 (she was 40 and my mother was 44). So, between 18 and 44, my mother lost four close family members. Yet, she persevered. She invested so much time in raising my sister and me. She even had a slight stroke at age 45 or so, but she persevered. Most importantly, she persevered in her faith.
I have told many people that my friend Danny is a person of great faith. He lost his brother when he was 13, then his mother when he was in graduate school. Yet, Danny believes that God is good. Now, my mother is 89, and I finally know the whole story. Like Danny, she believes that God is good. My mother is one of my heroes. She has maintained her faith through devastating losses; she has persevered for the good of those around her; and she will receive her due reward (not due to anything she has done) because of God's inestimable mercy. God is for us, not against us. God died so that we might live eternally and in the here and now. God died to save us--not from his wrath--but from our unwillingness to accept His providence and forgiveness. My mother accepts God's providence, and she knows that He is good!
So, thank you God for your providence in the rained-out soccer tournament, which allowed me time to buy the black bottom pie, and have a memorable, life-giving conversation with my mother!
