"We were too little to know when hard times were hard times, but we never felt like they were."
- Joselyn Foote
Joselyn Foote and Vivian May own the Main Course, a preschool and day care on the corner of 51st Ave S. and S. Orcas St. They also run a catering business, and they are accomplished singers. They have lived in the Rainier Valley since the mid-1980s. Foote was interviewed in April 2003 for the Rainier Valley Historical Society's Rainier Valley Food Stories project.
She grew up in a military family and therefore lived in many different places as a child. But Foote always came back to her grandmother's house in Mississippi, which is where she first got interested in food. Here follows an excerpt from Foote's life story as chronicled in "The Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook: A Culinary History of the Rainier Valley Going Back 100 Years, with Recipes and Stories from our Multicultural Community":
When my dad would go overseas, we would go back to Grandmother's house.
Grandma's house was so little, [with] us five, and then my mother's sister also lived there, and she had three [kids]. To us it seemed like a big place, but when we went back for the funeral, it was like, "Lord, Jesus! How did all of us fit in this little old tiny place?"
There was an outhouse. The roads were dirt back then. It's just a whole different life all together. You didn't have a lot of toys or games - we'd run up and down the street, that was fun to us. But I stayed wherever the cooking was going on, most of the time, 'cause I was always fascinated.
When it was time to eat fried chicken, my grandfather would go out back and kill the chickens alive, which was kind of hard on us kids. We were so used to going out there, feeding the chickens and becoming friends with them. Then the next thing you know, we're eating [them]. [Laughs]
I remember Grandmother saying to [Grandad] many times, "Maltese, go out and get me a couple of chickens," and we would run and hide. But then when it was time to sit down and eat that food, you didn't think about it then because it smelled so [good]. Grandmother's house always smelled good.
I imagine there were times when we were little when there wasn't a lot of food, but we didn't know that. [My mom] could come up with something, and boy, you'd swear you were at the White House. We were too little to know when hard times were hard times, but we never felt like they were. She was just a very creative person-and she still is today.
I call her on the phone and say, "Mother, I can't remember how do you do duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh?" And she runs me back. I can call her whenever something slips my mind. "Mother, how did you make the water bread?" That was one of those, when you couldn't afford the corn meal, and you would fry it in oil and it was like little pancakes. But we didn't know it was-"Okay. We're running out of money until payday."
We didn't know that was what it was for. We ate, we were little pigs.
We ate good.
Holidays were important. It was always big meals. Easter and Christmas and Thanksgiving. There are always certain things that you cooked.
There was always a ham, there was always a turkey, there was always a pot roast, there was always mashed potatoes. There were certain foods that you always had on the table, and there was always too much. And always take something to somebody who may not have as much as you.
Whoever was in the neighborhood, we would take something over to them to help them out.
That was always a tradition in our house. Whenever you fix something, my mom taught me, I always fix too much. And then I pick someone to take that [extra one] to. It's a nice way to let people know that you care about them, because a lot of people don't have anybody. I just was raised that way, so I do it all the time.
[My mother] always taught us to give back. Even if you don't think you have a lot in life, sometimes you have way more than somebody else does. She always made us define what rich was: rich to somebody else may be money.
But they may have no love in their life. Or friends.
So my mom always taught me, "Well, if you can pay your mortgage and you have a good friend and you can put food on your table, then you're richer than you think you are." Whereas, other people feel like if they don't have a fat bank account then they haven't achieved a lot in life.
I'm not saying I wouldn't want to win the Lotto. I'm not saying I wouldn't want to be rich. But I feel very blessed and very rich, for being able to live my life the way I want to live it.
The second printing of "The Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook: A Culinary History of the Rainier Valley Going Back 100 Years, with Recipes and Stories from our Multicultural Community" is now available directly from the Rainier Valley Historical Society and at the Bookworm Exchange in Columbia City. Call 722-2838 or rvhsoffice@aol.com for more information.
Mikala Woodward may be reached via editor@sdistrictjournal.com.
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