Ms. Georgia Folk & Farm Life (And Maybe Mr. Too)

GEORGIA FOLK AND FARM LIFE - I read something a while back about a young lady being crowned Miss Fried Pie somewhere here in West Georgia. Now if you’re not from around here, you might think that sounds like a joke. But if you are from around here, you understand perfectly well that being entrusted with representing fried pies is no small responsibility. That’s serious business.

It got me to thinking the other day: what if we had a Ms. Georgia Folk & Farm Life?

Now before anybody gets wound up, I figure we’d better be modern about it and open the whole thing up to men too. After all, I know plenty of fellas who can make a pan of cornbread that’ll make you weak in the knees, and more than a few ladies who can change a tire faster than most NASCAR pit crews. Fair is fair. If we were going to do it right, there’d have to be categories. Not the kind you see on those big television pageants with evening gowns and choreographed walks. No sir. These would be categories that matter.

First off, there’d have to be a cornbread and biscuit round. Not theoretical, mind you. No written tests. Aprons on, flour on the counter, and a hot oven waiting. Judges would be looking for proper crumb, good rise, and whether or not the contestant knows better than to put sugar in cornbread without asking what county they’re in first.

Next, I believe there ought to be a tire-changing challenge. Nothing fancy. Just a pickup truck, a stubborn lug nut, and a clock ticking somewhere in the background. Bonus points if the contestant can do it without saying anything that would make their grandmother frown.

Then we’d move along to classic country karaoke. I’m not talking about the new stuff. I mean the kind of songs that sound better with a little gravel in your voice and maybe a story behind them. If someone can sing a George Jones or a Loretta Lynn tune and make half the room quiet down to listen, well, that ought to count for something.

Of course, every pageant has a question-and-answer portion. I’d most definitely let Wade come up with those questions, which might be a mistake—but it would certainly be entertaining. I imagine things like:

• What’s the proper way to grease a cast-iron skillet?

• How long should you wait before mowing after a good rain?

• If your neighbor’s cows get out at supper time, what’s the right thing to do?

There’s a lot you can learn about a person by how they answer questions like that.

Now as for the venue, I’d probably let Wade pick that too, which means we’d likely end up in the party room of one of those all-you-can-eat buffets. And honestly, that might be just about perfect.

The judges could have their own table somewhere near the dessert bar—close enough to keep morale high—and instead of complicated scoring systems, the whole place could vote. Each table would get a bucket with contestants’ names written on it in grease pencil, and folks could cast their ballots by dropping in their spent spare ribs or chicken wings. Democracy, the way it was meant to be practiced.

You might laugh, but I’ll tell you something: it actually sounds like a pretty good time. Not because of the title or the crown or whatever we’d come up with—but because it would bring people together.

That’s really what Georgia Folk & Farm Life has always been about anyway. Not perfection. Not polish. Just people. People who know how to laugh, how to cook, how to help a neighbor, and how to sit around a table long enough to remember what matters.

And who knows… if we ever do crown a Ms. —or Mr. —Georgia Folk & Farm Life, I suspect the real winner will be everybody in the room.

Because any evening spent laughing over biscuits, country songs, and a bucket full of rib bones sounds like a mighty fine way to pass the time.

~Matt

#GeorgiaFolkAndFarmLife