Book Review: Don't Sit Under the Grits Tree with Anyone Else but Me

Book Review: Don’t Sit Under the Grits Tree with Anyone Else but Me

Author: Lewis Grizzard

Date: 1981

Publisher: Warner Books

ISBN: none

Length: 289 pages

Quote: “First, go out to your grits tree arnd pick a peck of grits.”

Grits are the peeled inner hearts of corn kernels. (Ever tried to peel a corn kernel? Traditionally it was done by soaking the corn in wood-ash lye.) Lewis Grizzard wrote many fact-based columns, some of which are reprinted in Don’t Sit Under the Grits Tree, but his “True Grits” column (page 83) is pure nonsense. There are other silly columns scattered through this book, like the advice from “Dr. Feelbad” for hypochondriacs, or the “Drinkin’ Wine” column, which seems intended to sound as if Grizzard had drunk a lot of wine before writing.

Then there are the serious reactions to actual news, like the column Grizzard, who otherwise couldn’t quite forgive Ronald Reagan for having run against Jimmy Carter, wrote after President Reagan was shot. Some people thought Grizzard did “goofy” better than he did sincere columns about people he admired or missed, but he wrote plenty of sincere columns. This book contains columns on behalf of dog owners who ran afoul of new leash laws, people who were out of jobs and money, writers whose books Grizzard wanted to launch, and several tributes to athletes and local celebrities.

Knowing that Grizzard was suffering from the hereditary condition that killed him, and refused to try to buy time by practicing better health habits, lends a special poignancy to the articles he wrote in defense of unhealthy pleasures. “Take This Salad Bar and Shove It.” “White Bread or Bust.” “Refill Time in Heaven.” These are the essays of a thirty-year-old man who, at forty, would be writing that a good bowel movement had become more satisfying and memorable to him than sex was; in his early fifties he would be dead. He always knew it. Like P.J. O’Rourke’s eco-hog persona, Grizzard’s junkfood-hog persona is best appreciated as a way of whistling in the dark.

The fact that many of these columns are more than thirty years old, by now, lends a touch of nostalgia to the cover of my copy, which identifies the book as “The New Bestseller.” It’s a nostalgia trip for all who ever voted for Jimmy Carter, drove a 1957 Chevy or wanted to, yelled “How’bout them Dawgs” in a crowd or wanted to, thought “nekkid” deserved to be considered a separate word from “naked,” copied Richard Petty’s mustache and glasses or dated a man who did, doubted that any word processor would ever work as well as a Royal Standard typewriter, or found it necessary to tell someone what Slim Jims are.

If you have not had these Southern-Preppie-baby-boomer experiences, but would like to grow up to avoid foot-in-mouth moments like Joe Biden’s claim that FDR did press conferences on television, reading Grizzard’s books will help. For many people in cyberspace, books like Don’t Sit Under the Grits Tree may provide the same sort of pleasure that reading Dorothy Parker, Will Rogers, and “Pogo” cartoons give me. And until time machines become reality, there’ll never be a more enjoyable way to study history. Therefore, this book is warmly recommended, not only to those who get all the references, but perhaps especially to those who don’t.