Phyllis Mata

Since Mama passed away in 2012 my home is the meeting place, especially for the holidays, and I love it.

I Lyle Lovett. I’m happy to report our old stories jumped from Mama’s island to mine and still bring us belly laughs until we can hardly breathe. We’re also known to cry tears of joy and melancholy and that’s when I haul out Sister Cindy’s Nanny Pudding.

My children and I prefer “not a lot of bananas,” so for years we’ve been digging under the roof where the wafers like to live and they still have no idea who’s doing that. So proud of my children.

We serve ourselves from my Grandmother’s cast iron skillet that’s as shiny and smooth as the skating rink at Rockefeller Center or the bathroom at The Teenage Center. We also use Mama’s old Magnalites that I hear will one day certainly kill us, or something along those lines, but I do find it worth a lil sickbay in order to have a beautiful dark gravy, and speaking of, when exactly is that illness supposed to appear? My theory is that the stainless steel people from Vintage Stainless Steel Lustre Craft 5 Ply Multi Core 10 Inch Skillet- Cookware made that up. I mean, how many obituaries have you seen that says, “She fought a long and courageous battle with her Magnalite Pots?”

I’d tell you some stories that originated from the best story- teller ever, my Daddy, but I could very possibly be run out of town on a rail.. The good ole days when we had parents and grandmothers and grandfathers and aunts and uncles and small children, and oleo.

But that’s not what I really wanna talk about, although I sure did. I wanna talk more about observations Brother Bo and I recently talked about on the phone in two separate cars at red lights.

As far as the holidays go, I set the table about two weeks before because I’ve been collecting stuff for years and I want that stuff to be on my table. I also make sure everyone who is not with us anymore are well-represented in the form of china, silverware, glassware, and bourbon and coke. I still cook the same food as they did and it still brings comfort and joy to us all. Our meals, since the Wayne Street days, are still brown and white.

My table sits twelve souls and takes a village to pull out the leaves because it’s an antique I bought at the infamous Acadiana Mall of Lafayette Antique Show when they still had the Puppet Show and the clown at Greenwoods.

Once I get the table set, without any village help with those leaves, I set the darn thing for the amount of darn family who said I’m darn coming or I’m not darn coming, and it never fails that a few days before the big day, or the actual day, when someone brings an unexpected guest. ‘I hope you don’t mind,” is always said with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile that takes the place, they think, of bringing a guest.

So then that even number of twelve souls need to be adjusted for that one darn family member who decided they’re coming or not coming, or the family member who brings a darn guest without letting me know so I can prepare to switch every darn thing around. “I hope you don’t mind.”

When I get close to my eighties I’m gonna say, “Yes, I mind,” because I hear you can say anything you want in your eighties. My grandmother, Mom, who was in her eighties, told someone on the Chapel Steps at Mt. Carmel, “Mais you fat.” She said it right under Neon Jesus we had just genuflected in front of but that was okay because Mom had holy metals and scapulas pinned to her brassiere. She also played bouree’ at night and caught a cab to bring her home, and she loved us so very much.

So now I have to find a space at my Acadiana Mall antique table with the heaviest ever leaves that’s been set as though I channelled Queen Elizabeth’s staff. I too have a yard stick and two crowns. But I now have to bring in the awkward chair that doesn’t fit or match, and this is where Brother Bo and I shared our observations and opinions in separate cars at red lights.

So now I have to bring in some awkward chair that’s an eyesore in that lil corner of the Acadiana Mall antique table that doesn’t match the other 12, like a lawn chair or a white plastic chair we use for parades or a chair that’s been in the attic that should be hosed off, or a counter stool that makes them appear to be the height of Lou Alcindor, or better yet, a high beach chair pretending it’s a chair or a low chair where the darn guest’s chin practically scales the Acadiana Mall antique table.

We also discovered the awkward chair sitter looks as though he or she doesn’t even belong at the table. They look like they meant to go next door or something.

The awkward chair sitter’s conversation from the salad to the dessert is muted, but Bo and I figured it out by pretending we’re concentrating on the cornbread dressing ingredients which makes us appear as though we’re not listening. “Is that my glass or your glass?” Sorry, thought that was my fork. Darn I just used your napkin. Do I have one? Look on the floor. Excuse me, may I have a knife? May I have a glass of water? A small glass that’ll sit comfortably on my side of the plate, please? Do you mind pushing over so I can get out of my chair and back in after I use the bathroom?”

And then the inevitable always happens … the chair breaks a leg because the person sitting in that chair that doesn’t match should not be sitting there but they are because they said they weren’t coming.

And, I almost forgot, the awkward miss-matched chair is always stuck in those corners of the Acadiana Mall antique table where there is little to no room because the person who set the table without a village is trying her best to keep the integrity of the row of chairs that match and should be there.

She also tries her best to pretend it blends, but she knows deep down it’s an eyesore that upsets the entire Acadiana Mall antique table’s vibe.

Can’t wait for my eighties, Mom, and thanks for teaching me how to iron and cook and work and speak French and play cards and be loved by you!

PHYLLIS BELANGER MATA was born at the old Dauterive Hospital and grew up on Wayne Street. She is a 1974 graduate of Mt. Carmel Academy and is a chili dog “without the wiener” aficionado.