20 Sep 2016 ‘Flat bread’ sandwiches and chasing fireflies

by Vivian Lawson Hogue

I liked walking to school during my public school days. Mother would roust us out of bed, lay out school clothes and set before us a breakfast of either corn flakes, cooked cereal, grits with milk, butter and sugar, or eggs and toast. Milk prevailed, of course, as coffee stunted your growth. 

Our journey to school was by walking the four blocks, but sometimes in inclement weather we rode in our now-famous 1939 Buick, chauffeured by our mother who was likely still wearing her robe. Only students in areas outside the then-small Conway city limits rode buses. School began at 8:30, at which time I would make my way to the first grade building which was built in 1929. While I relished spelling, mimeographed worksheets, reading and drawing, I didn’t have to worry at any time in all my public school years that anyone would want to copy off of my math papers. My anthem for all those years was, “And no, Mrs. Teacher, I’m not as ‘smart’ as my brothers.”

For lunch we went to the separate “lunch room” which somehow, along the way, became a “cafeteria.”  Hot lunches were a new offering, and those ladies cooked like they would at home. Wonderful food including rolls, vegetables and tasty blueberry cobblers. Chocolate or white milk was served for 5 cents each. Some still preferred to bring bologna or egg sandwiches and a cookie from home, which I did if Mother didn’t have 25 cents for my lunch. Meanwhile, my brother, Noel, and his friends were bartering and trading with whichever kid had the better lunch sack.

We had recess after lunch and I opted for the monkey bars, an unwise decision considering we girls wore dresses. As one who grew up with four boys, I never chose graceful activities. Otherwise, sitting cross-legged playing with jacks and Pick-Up Stix couldn’t be beat for the day’s noon break. 

With books over for the day, it was time for the walk back home. I so enjoyed the scenery on the way — trees, old houses and people sitting on their porches. Some called me by name and said to tell my mother they said “hello.” If I got into a persimmon or chinaberry fight on the way, so much the better. 

By the time I arrived home, I was famished for a snack. Mother objected, as she would have supper ready in a couple of hours. (Yes, I said “supper,” not “dinner,” which was and still is at noon if you were raised in the South.) When she relented, I would have a peanut butter sandwich or one of my other favorite snacks. It was our version of “flat bread.” This was a piece of sandwich bread smashed flat, spread with butter then rolled up. Sometimes I sprinkled it with sugar and cinnamon. 

Mother would then serve supper that might include vegetables, pasta dishes, chicken, scalloped tomatoes, roast beef, chicken and dumplings and sometimes dessert. On a busy day of sewing or near payday, we might have bacon and tomato or perhaps cottage cheese and black olive sandwiches with homemade vegetable or potato soup. On really lean days, we enjoyed an acceptable glass of milk with cornbread crumbled into it. On summer days we dragged the kitchen table out on the back screened porch where the honeysuckle on the lattice was as aromatic as the bread pudding. The evening would be topped off with more playtime outside chasing fireflies or each other. 

We kids were not overweight and only became tired from playing outside. We ate well even though for years Mother cooked with lard. There were no preservatives in foods or drinks; Mother cooked almost all the food including desserts, and never bought candy, chips or sodas. The latter were not in the budget and we didn’t suffer from their absence. Whatever type of calories we ate, we burned off with exercise. No TV commercials for fattening foods were seen until the early 1950s and those were relatively non-threatening.

In their youth, my parents had an even simpler diet and rigorous activity level and lived into their early and late 90s. In the 1920s, dietician Victor Lindlahr said, “Ninety percent of the diseases known to man are caused by cheap foodstuffs. You are what you eat.” Historically he was not the first to say it, but by the shape we are in today, it would seem that he and the others were right!

A native of Conway, Vivian Lawson Hogue graduated from the University of Central Arkansas with a degree in art education. A retired teacher, she worked in the Conway School District for 23 years. She is editor of the Faulkner County Historical Society’s semi-annual publication, “Faulkner Facts and Fiddlings.” She can be reached at [email protected].