Wrapped In Rain

by Charles Martin

Without batting an eye, Dixie looked over each shoulder, leaned on the table, and whispered as if telling a well-kept secret, “It’s really pretty simple. Years ago, somewhere down here, some corn farmer lost all his teeth and with them the ability to eat corn. So he just dried the corn, ground it into bits, boiled it into a soft, gummable mash, sprinkled it with salt and pepper, stirred in two table-spoons of butter, and called that ‘grits.’ Minus butter, it’s actually quite healthy. Now, truth is, there’s nothing wrong with grits. They won’t hurt you. And if you don’t like them, that’s fine with most Southerners. Just means more for us.” She smiled and gently bumped Rocco in the shoulder with her hip. She wrinkled her nose, waved her hand across the table, and said, “But, honey, don’t turn your nose up before you’ve had a plate. Most of us are eating sushi now and liking it, so anything’s possible.”