Darrel and I being such opposites, really makes for some interesting living. My Darrel is a handful.   There have been times when our differences run so high, I question the bizarre concept of marriage.  Why would any intelligent human being choose to share close and intimate quarters with a stranger? When I get over myself, and think about what I must put him through, I am back up to the challenge.  You see, Darrel is from a foreign region called Memphis, Tennessee.  In his hometown, there is a glass pyramid in the middle of downtown.  Cotton Row is being gentrified into lavish housing, history covered but not forgotten. He grew up watching BB King and all the great blues musicians on Beal Street.  Darrel says Beal Street had a pulse back then.  Barbeque is king, people are ‘fitna’ do things, and ‘mane,’ which replaces the word ‘man,’ is used in every sentence.  To add to his strangeness, my husband sounds nothing like his family.  He has no hint of a Memphis dialect.  I have asked how he came to lose his accent and talk so ‘proper,’ he has no answer.

 I, on the other hand come from the sophisticated state of Delaware.:-)  Birthplace to many educators, artists, musicians, and civil rights leaders, greatly impacting our communities. My dad’s childhood friend and fellow musician “Brownie,” aka Clifford Brown is honored with a Jazz festival each year. Our annual Pow Wows are legendary. We say we are neighbors to NYC and Washington DC, but they are our outer neighbors.  We are actually smack dab next to Philadelphia, Maryland, and New Jersey. Philly Cheesesteaks and Maryland crab cakes were my staples. We are known for our Subs (submarine sandwiches).  Capriotti’s and Yatz are my go to sub shops. Darrel says you can get everywhere in five minutes, but I love the smallness of our town.   Not having professional sports teams or a commercial airport, we brag about being so close to Philadelphia and lay claim to theirs.

In our beginning years, Darrel and I were truly strange beings to each other. We had our share of passionate debates, come on Cledis moments, and taking time away to breathe. Thank goodness, God created man caves and she sheds!   I tried to sue Darrel when I fell into the porcelain bowl one too many times but, no one would take my case.  It seems leaving a toilet seat in the up position is not a crime.  There were times I could see Darrel’s brain working, calculating, (count dem kids too honey.) He is a smart guy, soon realizing it really is ‘cheaper to keep her.’ I knew no matter how deep I dug that hole in the back yard, either Von, Guy, Curt, Bern, or Mike would come looking for him and blow my cover.

Our differences are varied.  Darrel is a middle-of-the road type of person not easily rattled. He is also not easily impressed with people, their money, or their possessions.  Which is in contrast to my high and low personality.  I go from being a social butterfly, in love with everyone, to being a complete hermit.  Thoroughly enjoying my time in solitude.  I find most things funny.  Where he might chuckle, I am screaming and falling over with laughter. Darrel is a realist I am a dreamer. When I try to pull him into my ‘what if’ or ‘just imagine’ scenarios, it drives him bonkers. 

Darrel is not afraid of any critter that creeps, crawls, hops or flies and will stand up to any man. Me, if it moves, I am running. Darrel likes to watch storms. He will stand on the porch or in the garage doorway, mesmerized.  The wind could be whipping, hail coming down or thundering and lighting; he will be out there for hours.  I, on the other hand, am hiding somewhere in the house. Hollering at him to come inside and take cover. 

Our biggest differences are around food.  Darrel prefers the supper hour, eating at 7pm. Give me a good ole fashioned 4pm dinner, and I am happy.  No matter how late it is, Darrel wants his first meal of the day to be breakfast food.  His favorite is eggs and bacon or sausage with his homemade biscuits and rice topped with sugar.  I prefer left over dinner for breakfast, and I want it first thing in the morning. Darrel makes the best lemonade I have ever tasted.  His sweet tea could win awards.  He ruins tea by putting lemon in it. Give me lemonade or iced tea but please, never ever mix the two.

Darrel likes meat and potatoes and I like seafood and veggies.  He likes cola and I will choose green smoothies.  He indulges in Hostess cakes, my choice would be Tasty-cake. When it comes to crackers, he favors Saltine, and I am partial to Ritz. Darrel enjoys tater-tots and I like baked sweet potatoes.  He feasts on cornbread stuffing and I like fancy bread stuffing.  Actually, my dad’s bread stuffing is my favorite but, Darrel’s cornbread stuffing is about to pull me over to the other side.

With all our differences, we had to learn to grow around each other.  Older and wiser now, we stopped taking ourselves so seriously and relaxed.  We still have our moments when Cledis and Cledileene will act the slap fool. We have proven that storming off in a huff, slow’ Mo and trying not to limp is more comical then it is intimidating.  Now we lean more towards just letting each other be.

There is one thing that I just cannot seem to let go.  Darrel believes that spaghetti is a side dish best served with fried chicken, green beans and cornbread. We all know spaghetti is a main dish served with garlic bread and salad. What is wrong with that Memphis mane of mine?

 Amanda

 (Note:  We are in Memphis spending Mother’s Day with Darrel’s ‘Ma.’  See yawl when we get back.)

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