Repass

The repass wasn't so new to me, as I was pretty sure it would be much like the way white people do it. The biggest difference is in the name. For white people in the South, or at least in the Delta, there is no one-word name to the event.

"There will be a meal at the church afterwards." If the deceased was a church member, it is probably held at their church. If not, then some significant family member's church may offer to host on behalf of their bereaved member. There's usually no shortage of ladies who take great pride in laying out all the food. Some of it may be gathered from relatives homes, other dishes delivered by church ladies who are on "the bereavement committee."

But, new to me, black culture has a word for the event: Repass.

In either case, this event is about LIFE, not death, where family and friends gather and share stories...they catch up with each other, they point to their significant others, they yell at their children to slow down running in the building, and they decide just what dish is worth breaking their diet.

I was one of two white Mike's, with another cousin who also chose to bring along a White Mike for the day. I think we both found it slightly humorous. His lady friend was as lovely as mine, though cut from a completely different cloth. And with a personality that would not be stopped. Formidable, strong, and hungry. I caught her at one point standing over a garbage can eating a ham hock with her fingers. I can't even tell you exactly what a hamhock is, but she had it. My lovely would laugh and tell me "She stood in line saying "I've got to have that hamhock!"

Fried chicken, chicken wings, a big pan of homemade cornbread dressing with chicken in it, baked macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, black eyed peas with pork and green beans in it, pork chops. . . just to name a few. One of the ladies working the table asked me, "Would you like anything else?" I replied, "Yes, ma'am. But I'm gonna come back after everyone else has come through." Because I had a plate full of fried chicken, dressing, black eyed peas and macaroni and cheese. I also had a saucer with yellow cake topped with caramel icing. It tasted handmade, but from a mix. And to me, that's fine too. I ate every bite and scraped up the caramel icing. *

Relatives hugged me. Me? As if I were one of them, gentlemen would hug me and thank me for coming. I suppose, for just that afternoon, I had been one of them. I had seen the beauty and mystery of their family, and briefly shared in their sorrow and their joy.

I pointed to a lady that I had determined was responsible for the preacher, and my Lovely went to speak to her about his use of the term "hooker."

"Oh," she said, "there were some hookers in the audience. He couldn't call them out, but he wanted them to know that he knew they are hookers."

We were both stunned.

She said that their aunt had asked for him specifically, and she just carried out the wishes, didn't judge them. She knew somewhat how he would be, by reputation, so she wasn't really surprised.

I told her that I wasn't surprised by the tone of the service, having grown up in the Delta, but I had been surprised by his use of the word hooker. I said, and pointed to Lovely, "She started shifting on her butt cheeks and I knew she was ticked off."

Family members were changing clothes, either close enough to home to have done it on the way, or changing for their inevitable drives home. Pictures were being taken. Women gathered at one table near the now-matriarch of the family. Men of a certain age gathered like a herd in another portion of the room. And in between groups clicked and pulled metal folding chairs and held babies . . . and went back for the hamhock. . . or in my case the real cheesecake.

It's a very natural order of life, not at all specific to blacks or whites. It's one of the things that defines us as humans, as all the same, even when we seem different. Life went on, just a few minutes later, it was all over, and life went on.



* I purposely spooned my dressing to get some of the golden brown crust. I love the crust portion, when done right. And this full of flavor, crunchy and moist. It was amazing.