You ever forget just how much you miss a person or people until you actually see them? And you think, “Gosh I’ve missed you!” That’s exactly how I felt yesterday at my granddaddy’s house as we gathered to spend time with family. One of my aunts was visiting from Clanton, where my grandmother was born and lived until my daddy was 5 years old. Chilton County was once named “Baker County” after my descendants. The Bakers gave every other plot of land to build this county. Politics or the Bakers’ dealings in politics lead to the county changing its name to Chilton, a judge in the county at one time. So, I guess I was an heir to a county once upon a time.

One of my favorite things to do when our family is together is to get them to tell stories about their childhood. Daddy always tells the story of “The Sack Man”. Stay tuned to another blog about the infamous “Sack Man”. This story never gets old and neither do the reactions from my dad and his sisters.

By now you are wondering what in God’s green earth do peaches and Vanity Fair have to do with each other? To understand, my grandmother, is to know both peaches or Chilton County and Vanity Fair. While going through some of my grandmother’s things, my aunts and I stumbled across an old photo of my grandmother and the ladies that worked at Vanity Fair.

Peaches are a big deal in Clanton, and you know they are a big deal because every year someone is crowned “Peach Queen”. If you’ve been living under a rock in Alabama then you wouldn’t know this fact. Most Alabamians, however, know the best peaches are from Chilton County. Both peaches and Chilton County are both big muses in my writing. Nell, my grandmother’s youngest sister, always said that “May peaches ain’t no good; June and July were”, simply meaning that the best time to pick peaches were in June and July. My grandmother could have been described as a June or July peach.

She had a soft, delicate and beautiful exterior with a hard center from a tough upbringing. She came to Demopolis from Clanton seeking a better life for her children, leaving behind family and all she knew. A young mother, she waited tables until one day a kind gentleman named Mr. Northcutt offered her a job at one of the newest industries in town-Vanity Fair, a sewing factory. Vanity Fair opened the doors for a lot of women back in the day- the ability to provide for family and in hours that corresponded with school hours-7 AM until 3 PM.

Now, I know a lot of the younger people may not remember Vanity Fair. I only remember the bits and pieces from my early childhood and hearing from my grandmother, as well as, the embarrassing bras and panties I got each year for Christmas (God, I would kill to have those as gifts now). What I do remember and sticks out the most was that these women became like family as they worked side by side, every day. They shared grief as some women traveling from a nearby town to work one day were killed in a car wreck. They celebrated birthdays, births of children, grandchildren, life. Two of my great aunts also worked at Vanity Fair and later my mom’s sister and my dad briefly.

You could say that Vanity Fair changed my life. If it had not been for Mr. Northcutt, I’m not sure how my grandmother would have been able to continue to provide for her family. Chilton County also changed my life. It raised some beautiful peaches, my grandmother and her sisters.

Seeing my aunts and my great aunt (93 in September and the only peach still alive) did my heart and soul so good. By spending time with them, my grandmother in a sense is still with us. I know she was proud to see us gathering around, telling the same old stories.

I know she was proud when we found her picture from Vanity Fair. One request my grandmother made as she was passing away was to be buried in a gown from Vanity Fair; that’s how much her time there meant to her. I am going to make copies of that photograph for my aunts and keep a copy for me for my new office. It will serve as a reminder of the real super heroes in this world, the women who work hard to put food on the table and raise their kids.

Aunt Jan brought peaches for the whole family yesterday, and I can’t wait to make a pie, tarts or just take a big old bite out of a cold peach. So next time you bite into a peach, remember to always be a June or July peach; may peaches ain’t no good. Count your blessings and remember a time, when women came together at a special place, a once upon a time type of place, to provide for their family.