Home. For some folks, it is a place where they were born and grew up, and then moved away from. But for others, like me, it is a place where your navel cord was cut, and your heart often wanders to the good and bad times you lived there. You have memories of being young and free, with few or no worries. My sisters and brothers and I had no concerns about where our next meal, the shoes on our feet, or the clothes on our back were coming from. Pop and Momma kept us close, and we did not take things for granted. Good behavior and manners ruled in all things that were said and done. Meals were cooked and ready mostly on time, as we all pulled together to get the work done. Later we would happily gather at the dinner table to break bread over Momma’s fixin’ and mixin’. No one ever left the table without a bellyful.
Home. For years I had no clue that the small island called Daufuskie where I grew up would have such a powerful impact on my life long after I had moved away. People move away from home for all sorts of reasons, but for me it wasn’t about choice. Very few natives live on Daufuskie nowadays; many live over on the mainland just a boat ride away.
Pop and Momma had strict rules but very little education. Even so, they have lived life with big hearts.
Living on Daufuskie when I was young wasn’t about the color of people’s skin or whether they were rich or poor. Giving and being there for one another kept the community together. Pop was a wise man who believed that “nuttin’ gets done when ya lyin’ in bed.” We were not allowed to judge another without cleaning up our own mess first. One thing is sure: we didn’t let not having hinder us. We were happy with our unique southern way of life, a way that made us strong because we earned all that we achieved in both good times and bad. We were hard working, independent, and responsible for all we had to do. We always had high standards, pride, and respect for others. Our soil was rich and natural, and we grew many fresh organic vegetables in our gardens. The woods were filled with adventure and a variety of wild game, berries, nuts, and herbs. We learned of both their goodness and danger. God gave us the stars, the moon, the sun, and the tides, as well as our changing seasons. We gave our time and labor and made it all work for us. I have memories of many moments of joy, pain, spirituality, and love, but, most of all, memories of blessings. It is the blessings that have guided me this far.
I give many thanks to all who share with me this walk down memory lane. A wonderful friend who helped with the editing of this cookbook, Gloria Underwood, deserves thanks for her patience and dedication. Special thanks to my new family members, Clinton (a poet), Karen (a photographer/poet), and Momma Peggy Campbell. I enjoy their warm and charming ways. Karen took the photographs that appear in the book. We had a lot of fun putting this together.
This book is for many special people in my life, starting with my wonderful mom, Mrs. Albertha R. Stafford, who lies on her sickbed. She loves to join in with stories and laughter as I comb and braid her hair while I pick her brain in conversations. We have enjoyed many memories as we’ve talked about the good times on ’Fuskie with our families and friends. It is also for my loving children: Jermaine Adonuise Robinson and his wife Kecia Renee Polite Robinson, Rakenya Niccole Robinson, Isiah Lamar Coleman and Deidre Moore, and Thomas Morris Bush.
I am so grateful for Nana’s loving grands: Jaquasha, Jermaine, Charmaine, Janaesha, Tanashia, Dijana, and Isiah Lamar Coleman Jr. I offer this book in appreciation of my mother’s sisters and of my 32 first cousins; many, many second and third cousins; and cousins to the end, wherever it stops. A very special thanks to my grandaunt, one of my grandfather’s sisters, Amelia Jones. For the many more family members not mentioned, especially for all my siblings, with whom I had the best of times growing up on and off Daufuskie Island, and their families—I love you all. Special thanks to all the Daufuskie Island families and friends still here and those now gone; to girlfriends Cynthia Murray, from day one, and Lauretta Chisholm, to the end; and to all of those, near and far, who have become my friends as we travel through life.
Many special thanks also to my favorite author and famous teacher, Pat Conroy, and his wife, Cassandra King Conroy. I am proud to have been one of your 18 students on Daufuskie. You have touched and inspired people the world over.
I met a wonderful lady about 20 years ago, shortly after the birth of my youngest son, Thomas Bush. Many got to know of her, but I got a lesson in knowing her. Heartfelt thanks, Sarah Bush.