Miss Nell - Pimento Cheese and Culture

We all probably have someone in our lives we remember as being one that helped make us who we are today.  It could have been a teacher, preacher, extended family member or a friend.  In my case, it was Miss Nell.  Oh, what a piece of divine work this lady was.

Miss Nell can best be described as the epitome of a refined Christian lady with dyed carrot red hair.  She wore powder blue and lace dresses with pearls, white stockings and shoes in the summer, and black wool suits, white blouses and pearls,  and black wool tams in the winter.  She attended the movies almost every weekday and sat in the last row in the back, hat and all, winter or summer.  Mr. Harry, her husband passed away not long after we moved to town,  so she lived alone in her lovely early 20th century home on West Main Street.   Ms. Nell rarely, if ever, cooked.  She ate all of her meals at local restaurants, always vigorously wiping the eating utensils with her cloth napkins. 

Now, my Momma was a lover of music.  She started her “career” when she was three years old tip toeing up to somebody’s piano picking out the beloved hymn, “O Holy Day”.  She never had money for music lessons, but her fingers didn’t need lessons.  She continued to pick and play until she formed chords and could play for anybody to sing.   The Scott family loved to sing, so there was always somebody to sing to her music.   Occasionally, she would fill in for the church pianist.   Enter Miss Nell.

Miss Nell was a skilled musician and knew her stuff.  Sometimes she would gently take Momma aside and show her the correct notes in places where Momma might need help.  Momma didn’t mess up much, mind you, but she might need some help playing the notes accurately according to the music.  Or, she would help Momma with the correct time, which is always important to music.  So, Miss Nell became a mentor of sorts for Momma and helped her immensely through the years.  They became life long friends.

I guess it was natural for Miss Nell to take me under her wing early on.  She decided I needed some “culture” training, I guess, so she asked if I would come over after school every Thursday after school to her house.  She lived just a block from my elementary school so I could walk through her neighbor’s backyard right to her house.  

When I arrived at Miss Nell’s house, she would always have waiting for me, a homemade pimento cheese sandwich and a glass of Coca Cola.  She invited me into her living room where I balanced the plate with the sandwich on my lap and sat my glass on the marble top table and gracefully as I could, managed to gulp that delicious sandwich down.  After polite conversation, Miss Nell would then proceed to read from her Bible to me passages she had previously marked for the day’s reading.  She would explain the meanings, ask me if I understood, and answer any questions I might have.  We’d talk a little and I’d look at the beautiful colorful pictures in her huge King James Version Bible.  I remember looking around her beautiful home at the beautiful furnishing and feeling so special to be there.   

My Momma had made sure that I had the opportunity to take the piano lessons that she never was able to have.  So I began music at the age and practiced daily the finger exercises and runs that were imperative to be the concert pianist that I was no doubt destined to be.  Well, Miss Nell was going to pitch in and help in that area too.  After the Bible reading, she ushered me over to her upright, and for twenty minutes, we did some practice runs and exercises and major and minor chords until she thought I had the hang of it for the week.  By that time, Momma was there to pick me up and off I go after thanking Miss Nell for the pimento and cheese and coke.

After I grew up, so many little things would flash in my mind that Miss Nell would gently remind me about social graces or “lady-like” little things that I should or should not do.  I remember thinking at the time, how foolish they were, and sometimes I would be silently critical of some of her quirky little social rules.  Oh, how I wish my little eleven year old granddaughter could be Miss Nell’s protégé.  I wish every little girl could grow up with the kind of love and attention that a stranger, basically, gave me and my Momma  just because she had the knowledge and the love for us.  Wouldn’t that be grand?  We need more Miss Nell’s in this world!