Word: mama
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Southern cuisine is an imprecise, ad hoc art that relies largely on instinct (a little of this, a little of that), memory (Mama said "Salt later") and the availability of ingredients (okra, salad greens, fresh shrimp). It is further complicated by the fact that many great Southern cooks have traditionally been black women who spurned the written word or, for that matter, any kind of regulation. The celebrated Mme. Bouligny, one of the last grandes dames of New Orleans society, had a Haitian cook who seasoned her gumbo with a voodoo prayer. "Getting directions from colored cooks," Harriet Ross Colquitt...
Honky-tonk songs, like Pistol Packin ' Mama, came out of Texas in the late 1930s and early '40s. Elvis and Jerry Lee Lewis adapted the style to rock 'n' roll in the '50s. Sometimes called rockabilly, it celebrates booze, gambling, fighting, steppin' out, temptation and, like all country music, love. Honkin' is the word for having a good time. In the olden days the distinctive instrumental sound of honky-tonk was tinny guitar and pianoplunk. Today the new rockabilly is a country-and-western/rhythm-and-blues mix, and its dominant sound is a heavily...
Marital dry rot in suburbia. A clinging mama and her growing-up boy. An alcoholic advertising salesman in search of himself. These are three of the whitest elephants in the attic of contemporary fiction-and Author Richard Yates, 50, has devoted a tight, pellucid novel to each one. An odd but not inconsiderable literary achievement, particularly in an age so helplessly smitten with the new. Yates' work brands him as a traditionalist in the strictest sense: he is a writer who feels dutybound to tell familiar stories in conventional ways...
Cries for Mama. The men gave Ray a flashlight, then sealed off the entry hole with two steel plates. The air quickly grew fetid and hot, and suffocation became a real possibility. "There was a lot of crying and calling for Mama," Ray recalled afterward. Desperate, Ray and the seven boys piled up mattresses and, with great effort, pushed away the steel plates. Sixteen hours after first entering the pit, they squeezed out. Two hundred yards away they found the watchman, who alerted the police...
...those more surrealistic fantasies still lurk in the Stones' repertoire, and as the final "Crazy Mama" testifies, they still can master the portrayal. "Crazy Mama" is a rambunctious rocker whose lyrics are garbled just enough so that you never know exactly what the song is about. But the tone is plenty menacing, as are the words and lyrics which can be made out. Such intriguing bits as: "Well you crazy mama/With your ball on a chain/And you sawed off shotgun/ Blood all on your brains, yeah," and "You can scandalize me/Scar all over my name/ You can steal my money...