Chapter Twenty-Nine

Dear Clementine,

I can’t believe that you finally have a name. After so long of just thinking of you as “Baby,” it’s strange to have something else to write out. Your father was so excited when he told me his idea for giving you that name, and it immediately just seemed so perfect. I’m guessing that about eighteen years from now when I give you the scrapbook that I’ve been making for you that you will hate how you came to have that name and I will hear all sorts of complaints about it and declarations that I absolutely must let you change it, but for now I love it, so I’m not going to worry about that.

I’m sorry that it’s been so long since I wrote to you. These last few weeks since you were born have been pretty hectic. You coming into the world marked a little bit of a renaissance for Whiskey Hollow. Your papa has been scurrying around helping everybody he can. I’ll be the first to admit it hasn’t been easy for all of them to accept. You’ll learn soon enough that we are proud people here and accustomed to getting everything that we need in life through hard work. Some people see what he’s doing as charity or like he’s trying to buy his way into their good graces, but I’ve been following around behind him doing my very best to convince them that that is not the case. Instead, he just wants to thank the people who mean so much to me and make sure that the home that you know is as prosperous and wonderful as it can be.

I’m not so sure that Whiskey Hollow is going to be the only place that you know. As much as I love it here and as much as your father has settled in, I know that there is so much more out there to discover. I didn’t have the chances that are available to you, and I want you to take all of them. I remember being younger and wondering why anyone would want to stay here when they grew up and had opportunities. It took until I was grown up and left that I realized that not everybody has those opportunities. For some, life is where they are born and that is simply the way it is. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Never be ashamed of where you were born, Clementine. Now, I don’t necessarily mean that you need to share with everybody that your mama went into labor with you in the back of a beaten up, broken down pickup truck. You could probably go ahead and take some creative license with that. What I mean is that I never want you to feel like you are limited. I want you to love Whiskey Hollow for what it is, but also be able to go out and explore all that this world has to offer you. When you do come home, I want it to be because your heart is here, not because you feel obligated to.

Anyway, I was telling you about the ways Papa has been changing things around the Hollow. Well, maybe “changing” isn’t quite the right word for it. That makes it sound like he doesn’t like it here and is trying to make it something that it’s not. That is certainly not the case. Your papa has taken to this place even better than I hoped he ever would. There are times when I wonder if his family has some Hollow in the woodpile. Truth be told, I don’t really think that it would matter if he was trying to change it into something else. I don’t think that there is anything that he could do to make it any different than it is. The Hollow is just as resistant as the people in it and will keep on going no matter what. With the little sprinklings of good cheer that Papa has been spreading around, though, it will just keep on keeping on a little bit easier.

The first thing that he did was buy Bubba Ray Ramirez a food truck and fund supplies for him for goodness knows how long. That way he can bring his food to anyone he can drive to rather than only subjecting the Hollow to it. He says that he’s been watching that food TV channel like a religion recently and that with all of the fusion restaurants popping up everywhere, he’s going to be the next hot thing. And you know what? I believe him. I wouldn’t put anything past the man who can make an entire population of an area believe that little bitty triangles of white bread toast are nachos. Papa also says that he’s been talking to a friend of his in the city who does publishing. He might be able to get Bubba Ray his own cookbook. He and his wife Marge sent me a couple of recipes to include in here for you. They figure one day you’ll need to be able to cook for yourself and you should get started collecting recipes now. I’ve put them in along with one of Bubba Ray’s delivery menus from the night you were born. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll be famous, and you’ll be able to show it off. I’ll just leave it up to you whether you actually follow the recipes, though. Just remember what I told your Papa…you’ve got to deconstruct.

Oh, and as for Cletus’s Clementine Moonshine…it turns out it has amazing disinfectant properties. Some samples have been sent off for testing and he might get to start marketing it in the next year or so. He sent me a recipe for that, too.

I’m going to go ahead and go now, Baby. The weather is gorgeous today and Papa and I are bringing you up to the old Crozet orchards to pick some apples. I’ll put pictures in here for you to see.

I love you more than the moon and the sun and all the stars in space.

Mama