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T' Mater Gravy Seven Days A Week & Twice On Sunday
By Jacob O. Smith, Sr.   
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
Last edited: Saturday, August 25, 2007
Posted: Saturday, June 17, 2006

Jacob O. Smith's classic novel 'T' Mater Gravy Seven Days A Week and Twice on Sunday is a one of a kind novel based on a mixture of fiction and non fiction. An excerpt may help explain the title.

He was totally preoccupied with his own thoughts.  He enjoyed sitting under the big Magnolia tree, and spitting snuff at crickets hopping around in the grass. For the sake of posterity, it might be said here that ole Gus Lukers was considered to be the champion distance snuff spitter in all Claritan County, Alabama.    It was also a known fact; he could spit smack dab between the eyes of a cricket fifteen feet away.

There was the usual watermelon seed, and snuff spitting Festival which took place every year on the 4th of July among the giant Magnolias on the Court House square. People from miles around, and neighboring counties would come and watch the contestants do their thing.  In the snuff spitting contest, a six-inch circle was drawn fifteen feet from a base line drawn in the dirt with a stick. A quarter was placed in the center of the circle.  The contestants would place the toes of their shoes on the base line, and spit snuff at a quarter in the circle. That was if they were fortunate to own shoes at the time, being Hoover days and all.  Bets were quickly placed between contestants who could spit a mouth full of snuff at the quarter in the circle. The one coming the closest would be declared the winner. In the very first contest ever held in Claritan County, Grandpa Lukers created quite a stir. He let it be known outright, he could spit and hit the eagle on at quarter in at circle, sittin in a rocking chair at the base line.

Now this really got folks attention when ole Gus Lukers put out the word, he could do a fool thing like that.  Most agreed it was an impossible feat. Some were only too eager in their willingness to bet against Grandpa.   I've got twenty-five bushels of coan (corn) at says you can't do at, bragged one man. I've got a fifty pound can of lard at says you can't do it neither, boasted another.  At jes ain't anuff to waste my time on, Grandpa told them.  Well now!   Jest whut would it take not to waste yore time Gus, they asked? I want ya'll to bet something worthwhile. Like maybe a few hogs, and a cow or two. Ya'll might want to throw in to an acre of corn or an acre of cotton, he told them. Ya'll either put up or shut up, he added. You willing to bet all at on trying to hit a quarter frum a dam rockin chair, asked a man?  Shore as hell am, replied Grandpa.

Grandpa Lukers took pride in the fact that he was very good at this sort of thing.  Especially aiming his snuff spit at moving insects namely crickets. He also knew another thing which would prove most valuable in helping him win the contest. Before the event began, he would have Grandma Lukers prepare him a big plate of T'Mater Gravy and hot biscuits. He stated in private and among family members, about how powerful T'Mater Gravy was.  It’s not only the good taste he said.  But there's something in em maters at makes people accomplish what they set their minds to, he added.  I had a very bad skin infection one time.  I eat T' Mater gravy three times a day for seven days a week and twice on Sunday I'm telling ya'll, that infection disappeared real fast, added Grandpa.  I began to wonder if eating T' Mater Gravy made me as smart as my Grandpa Lukers

Now Grandma Lukers became real upset at this set about Grandpa's betting in the contest.    She didn't waste any time at all,  in letting her thoughts known about this troubling  situation regarding what Grandpa Lukers was about to undertake.  She snatched Grandpa by the collar, and pulled him off to the side.   "Aire you tetched in at old feeble brain of yorn ole man?"  You tell me you gonna squabble away everythang we-un's got to our name, doing such a foolish thang as yore gonna do?  No wonder all em folks willing to bet against you, cause yore crazy. We-uns can't afoad to go to no pore house, cause you yore tetched in the head an off yore rocker.  I can hit ater quarter right smack dab in the middle of at circle.  You outta know at, he told her.  Ole man, I'm telling you is. If'n you lose everythang we-uns got to our names.  I'm a gonna pack yore duds, and yore gonna hit the road. I always said you'd cause me to leave you, and I'd wind up living with Buford and Lucy. Well now! Ya'll made yoreself pretty clear. Now I'm gonna make myself jest as clear. You jest go and do what you dam please. Cause I’m gonna hit at quotah, and win this contest come hell or high water, Grandpa told her.

The contest got underway. Someone fetched a rocking chair for Grandpa Lucas to sit in.  The front tips of the legs of the rocker was placed on the straight base line drawn in the dirt. Someone with a tape measured exactly fifteen feet from the center of the six-inch circle containing the quarter, to the base line drawn in the dirt. People began to gather in a huge circle around Grandpa. Those in the crowd who wanted to get a much better view, began climbing the Magnolia trees in the Courthouse Square. They didn't waste any time fighting among themselves for a choice space on the limbs.  The limbs became so laden with the weight of people, they began breaking off.  That day Doc Weathers treated 16 people with bruises.  Two with broken arms, and three  with  broken legs. Ya'll shore ya'll don't need to take a few practice shots at tat circle, fo you begin asked a man?  Only folks at ain't shore of emselves would do a crazy thang lack at, replied Grandpa with a chuckle.

People also stood on their cars to witness what everyone thought was the impossible.   Not a single person present, had much faith in what Grandpa Lukers bragged he could do.  That of course was an exception.   I had absolute faith that Grandpa could pull this thing off. All bets were quickly placed. Of course, Grandpa had agreed to match all their bets to begin with.    This was what had upset Grandma Lukers.   Bets placed against Grandpa included two fine Holstein milk cows, six hogs, three billy goats.  Even a Hoover cart, and a crib of corn, was bet against Grandpa.  One man was foolish enough to bet his next year's sugar cane crop. Another bet 2 acres of corn.  Finally an old 1929 Model A Ford coupe without an engine and transmission was bet at the last second.  The rules were!  Grandpa would begin his rocking when the clock in the Courthouse Tower struck the first bong for twelve o'clock noon. On the 12th bong he would do his thing.  He was well aware his timing had to be absolutely perfect, if he had any chance at all of accomplishing what he was attempting to do. 
         
The time had now arrived for Grandpa to either put up or shut up. It was now five minutes before twelve noon. He sat down in the rocking chair, and Grandma Lukers fetched him his big steaming plate of hot ‘T Mater Gravy and biscuits.  Look! The old man's got to eat damn ‘T Mater Gravy before he starts, shouted a man in the crowd.   The crowd really laughed at this.  Now I've seen it all, shouted another.  You think at fartin ‘T Mater Gravy's gonna help you win, shouted a woman in the crowd.  Grandpa didn't respond to what she said.    We can't wait all day Gus, reminded the judge of the contest.  We gotta get going he added.  

 
Grandpa quickly gulped down his plate of steaming ‘T Mater Gravy and hot biscuits.  He finished that off by drinking a big Nehi Orange, Grandma had placed beside his rocking chair.  He was now fully prepared to do his thing.  He reached in the top pocket of his overalls, and pulled out his can of Rooster Snuff.  He twisted off the lid of the can and filled it with snuff.  He looked up at the huge clock above the Courthouse, the crowd following his gaze.  The second hand began ticking down toward 12 noon. With the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, Grandpa pulled down his bottom lip, and emptied the contents of the lid of snuff into it.   The first bong of 12 sounded on the old clock.   That would be followed with 11 bongs finishing the hour. Grandpa began to rock slowly, back and forth, and working the snuff in his mouth.  He was now almost ready as he began to pick up the pace of his rocking as the clock chimed down.  The crowd was deathly silent.  The only sound was the old clock ticking away, and the crunching of the chair's rockers grinding in the dirt as Grandpa rocked back and forth. Suddenly people began to oooh and aaah.  Most thought surely he would rock over backward, because he was rocking so hard.   When the clock reached the tenth bong, the crowd began counting down.  10, 9, 8, 7, 6.    When they reached 5, Grandpa placed the first and middle finger of his right hand up to his lips.  The forefinger on his right hand above his lip and the middle finger under his lip.  This was his aiming technique.  It was also the sign he was fixing to let it fly.  The 12th bong chimed.  Grandpa Lucas thrust himself forward with all the strength he had in his frail old body, and out flew a spit full of snuff.  It looked as if it was traveling in slow motion. The crowd was mesmerized as they watched it splatter the eagle on the quarter smack dab in the middle of the six-inch circle. I'm rich shouted a few who had bet on Grandpa I don't know whut I'm a gonna do to keep from starving, moaned others who had lost everything they had. I guess it's ‘T Mater Gravy for me, seven days a week and twice on Sunday, from now on said another.  
 
 
 

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