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As a young man, I seemed to gravitate naturally to folks older than me. Especially those who were of my grandparents’ generation, people to whom faith, duty, and family were especially meaningful. I learned much from these people early on in my life, and so many of those lessons I carry with me to this day.

For me, at least, one of these cherished senior heroes was a lady most everyone knew simply as Miss Rose. She lived a little south of Landrum at the intersection of two sleepy country roads. Her small dwelling was a plain, unadorned, white weatherboard house that really could have used some attention, but Miss Rose didn’t seem to mind. It had safely sheltered her for nearly seventy years and had been a silent witness to some of the most important events of her life.

I was the new preacher in the community, and Miss Rose was one of the first to befriend my wife and me. On our first Sunday, she came through the line at the back of the church to greet us. She was short and walked in halting steps befitting her eighty-plus years, but I could tell she was still, as they say in the country, “right peart.” 

She looked up at me with clear, sky-blue eyes and said, “Why don’t you and Suzanne come by the house tomorrow afternoon for a mule ear and a cup of coffee?” 

I readily agreed, though I had no idea what a mule ear was. That afternoon, Suzanne and I speculated on the subject. Was this some sort of backwoods delicacy made of the ear of a mule? I was bewildered, to say the least.

But the next day, we dutifully showed up at Miss Rose’s. After seating us, she brought our coffee and mule ears. I was relieved to discover they were fried apple pies, much like my own grandmother had made, and they were heavenly! I confess I ate more than one.

From then on, we were regulars at Miss Rose’s table. She would call and invite us down for a “sandwich,” as she called it. When we arrived, we would find a table groaning under the weight of platters of fried chicken, hot, golden-brown biscuits, potatoes, gravy, and a variety of vegetables carefully prepared the old-timey way. And then there were the delectable desserts, decadently sweet, creamy, and flavorsome. What memories! My mouth is watering as I write these words! And yet, along with the feasts of food, there would also be a lot of food for thought served up by a lady who knew what she was talking about. 

Miss Rose had experienced both joy and pain in her long, fruitful life, but her faith in God and people remained unabashed and firm. She was a lady of great wisdom and peace, and I learned so much around that table.

Miss Rose has been gone for decades. Her cozy home at the crossroads has been replaced by a nondescript, viny-covered bungalow, but the memories of those treasured days still flood my mind from time to time. 

And those memories are golden!