While we talked, the fans overhead whirred and birds sang. It was twilight and around us conversations hummed, we watched as other tables were served their food. With the setting down of each dish we wondered out loud what other diners were getting, practically tapping our neighbors on the shoulders to ask. During the wait, we all ordered more drinks and Keith told a story. Now, the beauty of living in the south, with southerners, is their flair for storytelling. Keith is not from Texas, he is from Mississippi, which to me is even better. So with hands batting about and a sweet southern drawl, he lit into the story of Big Mac and Miss Kitty.
Big Mac was an Irish Brawler who drank, smoked and gambled. Miss Kitty was a southern "Lady". She had been the queen of her debutante ball and a great beauty. Miss Kitty had dated a number of suitable, respectable men but Mac-daddy (as his girls--all five of them--called him), was different. She wouldn't date him. In fact, she would have nothing to do with him. For two years Mac-daddy called on her. For two years she turned down all of his advances, telling him firmly that "no", she wouldn't marry him. Finally, the day came when he packed a suitcase and arrived on her front porch. It was a very gracious, large front porch mind you and when he knocked she came to the door, but would not let him in. "What do you want Mr. MacGregor?" she asked him. "Kitty, I'm here to marry you. If you don't marry me I'm going to join up in the church and become a priest." Now, the true exchange will never be known, but they say that on that day Miss Kitty saved the Catholic Church. You see, she ended up marrying Big Mac not long after that and recently, they celebrated their sixty-third wedding anniversary.
We laughed at the story. Thought it was great. Talked about the birds and the food (as it arrived). We ate more, drank after-dinner coffee and shared desserts. Everyone asked about Dorcas. I haven't met her, but should this week.
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