During the Christmas season hair flew fast and furious in the beauty shop my mother ran. Situated in a small town at the foothills of the North Carolina Mountains, the place overflowed with chatter.  On Christmas Eve, until I started working in a department store during the holidays, I put the finishing touches on our dinner while she continued to work in the salon. I also received Mother’s gifts, which her customers placed on the back porch.  

All day long they stuck their heads in the kitchen and called out, “I brought your mother a set of embroidered pillow cases. I’m putting them here,” or “I’m leaving your mother a bag of potatoes,” or “I’m putting a pie on the porch.” The presents ran the gamut.

One year I’d placed the casseroles Mother had pre-mixed in the oven and started to prepare  Heavenly Hash, a fruit delicacy. I’d never made the recipe before, so I studied Mother’s directions carefully.

“There’s a mess of green beans out here.”

I flinched. “Thank you,” I said without turning around as I added a jar of sweet cherries to a can of mixed fruit. I needed to cut up two oranges and a fresh pineapple, cook and chill a dressing for the salad, and then chill the entire dish before dinner. My nerves stood on edge.

“I brought your mother chicken.”

Staying focused on my task, I automatically replied, “Thank you” as I picked up the pineapple.

A few seconds later a “Baak, baaak, baaaaak” sound wafted to the sink.

A live chicken? My backbone stiffened, and I bounded to the porch where a pretty, white-feathered chicken scratched and pecked uncontrollably at pies, potatoes, pillow cases and an assortment of other gifts including apples, calendars and cross-stitch pictures. Not knowing what to do, I shook inside. The fruit salad created only minimal stress compared to this.

But all’s well that ends well. I summoned Mother, and we put the gifts in the kitchen and closed the door to that room and the porch.  

I’ve carried the love from those caring, Christian people in that small town with me my entire life. I wanted to bring back that spirit of community in Hair Calamities and Hot Cash, which has its roots (no pun intended) in my mother’s shop.