Fancy Fixins

Paula at her piano. 

Photo by

  
LeRoy Walls  

Written by 
LeRoy Walls 
CEO 

Katie responded to my question of "What is Handel’s Messiah?" with a long music history lesson plus she mentioned several times that Paula was one of the rare freshmen to be a featured soloist. I was sure the weekend would be an overdose of culture for this farm boy who was looking forward to spending most of it alone with Paula.

Paula and I planned to be married the following June. This weekend trip with Paula’s Mom was the second leg of my trip which for me included going from Springfield, Missouri, where I attended college, to Cabool, and then with Katie on to Jonesboro, Arkansas. Paula attended Arkansas State University there. She lived with Jean, Katie’s sister and a professor of English at the University. (Dr. Walker may now not only be reading this little story but also grading it as well.)

I usually met Paula each weekend in Cabool. Often Jean came back to Cabool, where her Mother lived, and sometimes Paula rode the Trailways bus home spending her $10 weekly allowance. We were "hopelessly in love" and wrote letters to each other daily through the week.

The University Choir with Paula soloing performed Handel’s Messiah. With her big soprano voice Paula didn’t sound much like a 17-year old freshman. We celebrated Paula’s first college performance with a fancy meal that Paula prepared at Jean’s home. From the white table cloth, best china and cloth napkins, I knew I was in for some fancy fixins.

For this special dinner Paula had steamed some shrimp. Being a junior in college, I was in my third year of being off the farm and had learned about many of the world’s exotic food choices. The most notable to me was "What-a-burgers" and "pizza." Having grown up eating mostly chicken, pork, potatoes, gravy and farm fresh vegetables, I was definitely learning and had at least heard of eating shrimp.

I was on my best behavior - which at family gatherings on the farm had generally meant: keeping my elbows off the table, not slurping, not kicking any cousins, brothers or sisters under the table and all the other stuff I couldn’t do in church. Fortunately I was only given one fork so it was clear sailing there.

We started out with some dainty little sandwiches which were fine for about two good bites. I considered it thoughtful that they provided me with a toothpick. Just when I was about to rock my chair back on its back legs and check my teeth, they brought in the real food.

Paula’s rolls, potatoes and green beans, as usual, were wonderful. I wasn’t so sure about the shrimp but dived right in. I really liked the red sauce that I dipped the shrimp in but just wasn’t that impressed with the shrimp. I drank lots of water and lemonade and ate enough of the shrimp to be polite to my future bride. All in all I just couldn’t understand why everyone was so fond of shrimp.

After I had finished and was making polite conversation until the rest finished their meal, the moment of truth arrived. I was mentally debating on how big of a lie to tell in saying, the shrimp was "good," "fine" or "great" when my future mother-in-law asked, "LeRoy, where are your shells?"

12/31/1999