08/25/2024
Here you go friends. If you know my sweet momma and daddy you can hear this in their own voices. And daddy’s right they are not idle people. And momma said it best, somebody is always coming by to eat. Yep that would be us. That is their love language. Enjoy this beautiful love story this morning and know they miss you but are enjoying their new busy life.
Irene: “My family has been on this land in Baldwin County for generations. Out here, you were either a fisherman or a farmer. Everything was water and farmland. There was no traffic, and we rode our horses to the bay. That’s not doable now. It’s hard watching things change.
My dad would plant at least 500 acres of potatoes, corn, and all kinds of crops. We all worked on the farm: picking watermelons, pulling corn, and loading trucks. Mom ran the country store next door–my Grandpa and his family had started it as a fruit stand. I helped Mom make lunches for the fishermen and farmers, putting sandwiches and cookies in brown paper bags.
A lot of these farmers didn't have much money; they put their fertilizer and seed on credit until the crops came in. They also put their groceries on a ticket. Once they sold their crops, they paid their bills and Mama for the groceries.
We lived in the back of the store; Mama would run back and cook dinner in our kitchen. Customers smelled the fried chicken or whatever she was cooking. They would go back to the stove, lift the lid of the pot, and ask, ‘Watcha cookin’ today?’ Then sat down to eat. A nurse from Foley stopped by and fixed herself a plate every day. It was nothing to have ten people in the back eating dinner with us. Mama always made enough. I got that from her.
We told Mama she should open a restaurant in this place. Since she fed half the people in Barnwell, she might as well charge them. Mama opened the Blue Marlin restaurant in 1981. Later, she got sick and had a stroke. My husband, Robert, and I took over the restaurant in 1999.
I met Robert in first grade at Point Clear School. He was in the second grade, and I liked him from the beginning. I thought he was the coolest dude there ever was, but he didn’t like girls. His family moved away. I didn't see Robert again until tenth grade at Fairhope High School. He ran into me, knocking my books out of my hands. I thought, ‘Oh my gosh.’ Soon after that, I read about him in the newspaper. He had been in a car wreck that tore his heart loose; he wasn’t supposed to live. My sister-in-law took me to the hospital in Mobile to see him one more time; they wouldn't let me in.”
Robert: “That was 1968. I had a Mustang. I was coming home early one morning, fell asleep, and hit a telephone pole. I was in a wheelchair for about six months.
On September 5, 1969, I pulled up to the teenage hangout in Fairhope called the Elbow Room. It’s where the Fairhope Civic Center is now. Irene walked out with a friend. I called her to the car and took her home. That was it.”
Irene: “We didn't go right home. We went to the Fairhope pier and went swimming.”
Robert: “We married May 23, 1970.”
Irene: “Dad didn't want us moving anywhere, so he built a service station up the road for our wedding present. I ran the station, and Robert worked construction: building piers, boardwalks, and new houses. Later, I went back to college at night to become a teacher. I taught first grade in Fairhope for twenty-five years. When I got home from school on Fridays, Robert and the kids washed and packed the car, and we took off for the weekend. We went everywhere. That ended when we took over the Blue Marlin.”
Robert: “Irene was still teaching school, and I was still doing construction work. We would run home, shower, and go to the restaurant. Got home at about eleven or twelve at night. We worked every Saturday and Sunday at the restaurant.”
Irene: “I was always prepping, cooking, and washing dishes. Making sure the front was clean. Robert made seventeen gallons of gumbo at a time–we’d use it up by the weekend. We battered everything ourselves. Apparently, I made good coleslaw.”
Robert: “Sometimes I got up before daylight and took the boat to catch mullet. I would catch 400-500 mullet and clean them before we opened. It was the freshest mullet you could get.”
Irene: “We helped the kids get into college with the restaurant. They all worked there and learned good work ethics. We tried to do the same for our grandkids so they can take care of themselves when we’re gone.
The restaurant was also a chance to do good for others. Our grandson played football for Fairhope High School, and we cooked for the football boys and cheerleaders every Friday. They were the best kids and came to the restaurant to see us.”
Robert: “We know everyone in our community in Barnwell; when somebody passed away, they called Irene and asked to come by the restaurant after the funeral and eat. We never charged them.”
Irene: “Giving families time to come together was a blessing. Who knows when they would do that again?”
Robert. “It was my idea to retire. I'm almost in my mid-seventies, and we don’t have to work anymore. We both love to fish and have a bass boat and motor home ready to go. I want to do everything I haven't done yet. I've made beer, wine, and moonshine. I've made hogshead cheese and sauerkraut. Last year, somebody said, ‘Well, you ain't made pastrami.’ Hell, I started making pastrami; it turned out really good. Pretzels is next on my bucket list
We retired, but we haven't slowed down. We’re not idle people.”
Irene: “There is a lot we want to do; we just never had time to do it. I’m still cooking–still don't know how to cook a little. Someone is always over here eating. We don't know who's coming to eat tonight, but we'll have plenty. We'll put the leftovers in the refrigerator for tomorrow.
I still think about my mama running the store and restaurant. Towards the end, I saw her writing in a book, listing all of the people who came in the store. I didn’t pay attention to that note until after she passed away. The bottom of it said ‘paid in full.’ All of those tickets are now paid in full. That’s peace.”
