BUCKING THE SYSTEM: REAL ROLE MODELS ARE IMPORTANT TO YOUNGSTERS ON THE WAY TO ADULTHOOD

There is no greater feeling than sitting in the shadows and listening to the conversation of "Momma 'N'em."

I've always had a healthy respect for my elders. That whole "Honor thy father and mother ..." thing was drummed into my head at an early age, and so was the "Respect thy elders" mantra so popular back in those days.

What I didn't learn from the Gospel scripture and homegrown phrases came to me in a hurry after a few well-placed strokes from a fruit tree switch.

As a child, I loved to sit on the floor near my mother's knee while she and the other adults talked "Grown Folks Talk," and I always pouted when they finally realized I was still in the room.

I wasn't listening so I could go back and tell the other kids what we weren't supposed to know -- that was just one of the perks. I was listening because I wanted TO KNOW: Exactly what, I wasn't sure, but I knew they knew it, whatever IT was.

Usually if I hung around them enough, one of the older grown-ups would pull me aside and start a conversation with me. They wanted to know what I knew (or thought I knew), and they would teach me how to do things and about life in general.

Grandma M'Dear (pronounced Muh Deah) told me how to bake a scratch cake. Ma Mable taught me how to pray aloud and love Bible stories. Momma Sue taught me how to sit with my legs closed when I was the candle-lighter at church. Each one of these ladies was my grandmother, my confidant.

My guardian angel.

Because of them, I learned to hold my head up and to be proud of who I am. From them I learned valuable lessons about integrity, spirituality, humility and countless other important human lessons.

They all helped me develop from a big girl, to a nice young lady -- to a woman.

I think a lot of people have forgotten what it was like to listen to folks like Big Momma and M'Dear talking about how things used to be. They don't remember the quicksilver emotions and throaty laughter that threaded their conversations of shared memories and true understanding. It's slipped their minds how those older adults could look both threatening and comforting at the same time.

It's an odd feeling to realize the adults you grew up with are human. Although some of my guardian angels have become real angels since I sat at Mom's knee, they still have that supernatural quality about them that I have never forgotten. It's like those that have died are not really gone, and those still with me will never leave.

I can still hear them passing those sage words of wisdom to me in the hoarse whispers they always used. I'm trying to remember what they've taught me so I can pass them on to all of my children, real and adopted.

I've noticed I mimic my mentors a lot in my conversations with my friends. Now we're the adults -- or Momma 'N'em, depending upon your vernacular -- and we're starting to send our kids out of the room.

You never forget the heroes and heroines that helped you through childhood. They're the role models that count, because if you're lucky, their roles are the ones you will adopt when you grow up.

I am beginning to know now what knowledge I was trying to gain as I sat in the shadows listening to the grown folks talk: They knew how to be an adult. Life for them hadn't been a crystal stair, but that hadn't kept them from climbing.

Thanks to them, now I'm climbing, too.

~Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.