BUCKING THE SYSTEM: EMBALMING FLUID AND OTHER REMEMBRANCES

In a book of remembrances my mother and grandmother prepared several years ago, Ma Dear said the biggest development of this century was embalming fluid.

She wasn't impressed by computers, refrigeration or the space program. Oh, yes, they were nice, but they were just a flash in a pan next to embalming fluid.

I spoke with a number of women who agreed with Ma Dear this week. As I listened to them relate dozens of country cures for everyday ailments, I realized things like antibiotic ointment and embalming fluid are big news to them because they were things regular people could relate to.

Earlier this century, people didn't have all the over-the-counter medicines we now enjoy. Nor did they go to a clinic, doctor or emergency room for just any old ailment. You had to be just about dying and out of castor oil, Father John's and baking soda before a doctor could be called in.

Despite the many medical developments in the 1970s, I can remember my grandmother giving us all kinds of crazy concoctions or nasty brews to cure what ailed her grandchildren. Ma Dear relied on grapes and weeds and flowers and lots of household staples.

What didn't kill us generally made us better. I know we didn't get any worse.

For example, not many people can identify muscadine grapes when they see them, but I can. I also know they have a very recognizable taste, whether they are being used in a jelly, jam, tea or even a paste.

Some people like them, but to me, they tasted like what they were supposed to be: medicine.

I remember with horror Ma Dear sharing the details of 13 natural births in her home (her 14th and final child was delivered in a hospital). She also spoke of walking several miles to get to a specific hill that had just the right type of clay for a specific ailment.

Every time we had one of those discussions, I'd thank God for all the medical advancements we now have.

Like Ma Dear, the women I interviewed this week spoke with authority about the various uses for vinegar, sweet oil, chamomile tea and even cigarette smoke. I also must thank the woman who called Friday to give me the correct spelling for Lydia Pinkham, a cure-all for those "28-day blues" many women experience.

The one thing these women had in common was a belief in their cures, despite the fact they now go to the doctor regularly and take prescription medications.

Like Ma Dear, they are willing to use modern advances, but they take pleasure in the simpler remedies that they can relate to.

I, too, value the simpler remedies. A pill is not always the answer, and sometimes a tea will negate the need for a doctor's visit.

I must confess, I have been known to make a baking soda paste for a bee sting and a good, old-fashioned hot toddy to break up a cold. I am still the first person to go to the doctor if I think it's necessary, but why spend the money when one of Ma Dear's remedies will do?

I like to think I'm preserving some of Ma Dear's heritage each time I take one of her country cures. Maybe one day I'll write a remembrance book for my grandchildren. I'll probably marvel at something a little more technical than embalming fluid, but maybe I'll also pass along some of Ma Dear's remedies as well, just for old time's sake.