Cookie

Cookie does not refer to female genitalia.

Cookie is a real person.  Corinne, a Nanticoke indian from Maryland.  She has African-American blood.  People only see a black woman when they see her, but she is "tribal."

She isn't like the Seminoles of Florida.  We went to camp with Seminoles a few Thanksgivings ago.  It was me and my father's family, and Cookie (who invited herself along) and her man-friend, Lee and his grandson, Cornelius.

The Seminoles have something to do with you or they have nothing to do with you.  You do as they do.  Don't be annoying.  That's the way to be with them.

Not Cookie.  At the table, loaded with samp and all kinds of foods, she stopped everyone and requested a blessing.  That stopped the Seminole families in their tracks.  That was just plain rude.

My father obliged when one of the women asked him.  He prayed to the great father.  The indians seemed to appreciate what he said.

The indians do not celebrate this day.  Would you? 

Instead it is a time to be together with family, sit quietly in the woods, tell stories, laugh, smoke dope, go care for cattle, ride ATVs, maybe hunt.  But there is food.  Traditional and modern food.  And it's back in the woods, so anything goes. 

I'm off track!  I'm talking about Cookie.  Sorry... I really liked hanging out on Brighton Reservation.  And no, I did not go to the casino.  But I do wish I was a member of the tribe.  Each registered member of the tribe, even the babies, gets a monthly dividend from the casino.  Last I heard it was $4,000 a month.  Sweet!

It is unfortunate that the tribe has gone from extreme poverty to extreme wealth.  There is little incentive to work or to get an education.  Some do.  And the Seminole have a high-tech cattle operation as well.  They sell cattle by satellite!

Anyway...  Cookie... has helped my step-mother for some 18 or 19 years.  She cooks the best collard greens you have ever had.  And her fried chicken is to die for.  Colonel Sanders has nothing on Cookie.

But Cookie, though actually quite successful, is depressed, self-centered, annoying.  She wants praise, attention and sympathy and let's you know about it all day long. She is loveable.  She is straight-forward and I love that in anybody.  Cookie has a field day when someone misbehaves.  She's a riot.

On Tuesdays, when I go to Dad's to help around the house Cookie is there, washing and mopping and ordering me around when I'm trying to do what my step-mom wants me to.  Everything takes a lot longer to get done that way. But the suffering is worth it because Cookie makes dinner and eats with us before she leaves.

Cookie took in Lee's grandson after his mother was murdered by his father.  He was just a baby then.  She is raising him to be smart and strong.  He is very handsome.  Cornelius' mother had three children.  An older brother, a sister "Nene," and Cornelius.  Sorry... the poor kid.  I would not name a child "Cornelius."  It can be a distinguished name, I suppose.  It can also make you think about "The Planet of the Apes." (Please, I have Roddy McDowell damage.  The full-grown pixie thing... eeesh.  And who was Tony Randall trying to fool?)  But I digress.

Cookie's brother lost his family in a fire that claimed ... how many? 14? of his family members including his children.  It was in the national news.  How you keep from going insane after that, I don't know.  Cookie was a wreck.

Cookie's sister, Bert, is a nurse in Palm Beach County.  Bert has survived two rounds of brain surgery.  She's a walking miracle.

Sometimes Cookie has cook-outs in her backyard in Fort Pierce.  Everyone around is invited, probably even people she doesn't like.  Fried fish, smoked turkey, once there was even goat. (I think I missed that one.)  Her company includes all kinds of people. 

But me, I go for the greens.  There is nothing like them in the world.  Southern cooking, "soul food"... and it is good for the soul and the body, too.

Cookie's house is full of cast-offs of her employers and of things she bought because her employers had one like it.  It's a nice house, a little over-stuffed for it's size.  And in her garage is an old two-seater Cadillac.  A real pimp-mobile.  She just can't part with it.

She drives a trusty Ford Taurus wagon she calls the Green Hornet, but she keeps saying she's going to get a new car.  I kept telling her that it runs great so there's no reason to get rid of it.  But when people who can afford a new car WANT a new car, what can you do?

Me, I keepmy cars until I can't anymore. Then I get a good used one and start all over again.  I've had the Saturn for six years.  That's 110,000 plus miles.  It's cheaper to keep her.

So that's Miss Cookie. "Cook-Cook."  "Cookie-mama."  Any questions?

 

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