Embarrassing Moments
by: Gail lang

Have you ever found yourself in one of those embarrassing moments, caught up in some activity that you would have never imagined being part of even in your dreams? Yet, somehow, perhaps you opened your mouth too much or stuck your foot in it one time to many. Who knows for sure what you did, but there you are, about to experience life to the fullest, in its most embarrassing aspects.

That's where I found myself one sunny day in April. Excited by all the local festivals I thought to try to go to as many as possible, experiencing a bit of each, seeing what sets one off from another. I was particularly intrigued by the annual "Grits Festival" hosted by Quaker Instant Grits and the city of St. George, South Carolina.

The highlight of this festival is the famous "Rolling in the Grits". As you might imagine it is exactly what it sounds like, lots of people taking turns rolling in a huge pool of grits for some unfathomable reason. This seemed so crazy to me, and I just had to find out what was behind it. Did people really roll around in a huge pool of grits and if so, WHY? What could provoke such behavior I wondered? Grits, for those of you who do not know, is a mushy, grainy food, served with breakfast and other meals in the south. It's actually a favorite staple item in many Southern homes.

I arrived at the festival, a huge smile on my face, anxious to see all that the St. George festival had to offer. I do love festivals! I walked round and round, talking to numerous vendors, photographing them and their wares, and interviewing some for future magazine articles. The morning was pretty much the same as any other spent at a festival: music, street dancing, artisans all around, and plenty of choices in food. It was all there. Somewhere in there I ended up at the "Grits" booth and, of course, had to put in for the drawing for the t-shirts. It seemed innocent enough and a souvenir t-shirt could be fun to take home. I filled out the entry form and dropped it in the box without another thought. Then I went on to look at more vendor booths.

The afternoon approached, and the time grew near for the "Rolling". I hurried back down the street eager to see the foolishness. Everyone gathered round, some honestly caught up in the excitement of this annual event, and others, like myself, just curious and somewhat unsure as to just what would happen. I thought it would be great fun to capture someone on film, and if I were really lucky enough, to get his or her permission and signature to use the photo online with the article. It seemed a fun way to show the diversity of festivals in the southeastern states. Many have a particular focus, with some special activity or event supporting the focus. St. George celebrates this festival for grits with some down home Southern zaniness!

These Southern ladies and gents reveled in the opportunity for fun and excitement, and they all stood excitedly awaiting the names to be called out. Who would be the lucky ones? Who would win the honor of rolling in the grits for the chance of winning the prize money? They started calling out the names, the names of the children for the group under 14. Then the names for the adults. Seems like they drew about 10 of each. Gee, 20 lucky individuals to roll around in a 6 foot wide x 18 inches deep pool of grits. Hmmm... one has to wonder what could possibly possess them?

Then it happened...... I paused for a moment and thought, "No, it couldn't be....", but it was. It was my own name called out over the speaker. I cringed at first thinking, "No bloody way am I going to roll around in a huge pool of grits! But I wouldn't be a bad sport, I'd take the t-shirt!" I went on behind the booth with the other "winners". I was surprised though by their excitement. This really was a thrill to them. It was all new to me, and I had no intention of rolling around in grits. It didn't matter how much money they were giving away. The whole idea was ridiculous! The moments went on; and I talked with the others, passing the moments ‘til the man would get to me. Somehow in those few moments I found myself trapped. I realized that this was not going to be something I could shirk from. My husband was no help, coming back to remove my camera, tape recorder and purse, as if he was sure I would do this. I saw such a wicked gleam in his eyes as he smiled and returned to the children.

The other women, children, and men were eager and excited to do this. What harm could it cause? A bit of embarrassment? What the heck, I'd done worse. Can't remember what, but surely there must have been something. Besides that, my husband and children were in the audience, tickled to death that mom was going to do something really stupid. Far be it from me to disappoint them. Actually, I was trying to reason with myself trying to find some sanity in my decision to accept my fate and live life to the fullest. Who knows, it could be fun, right?

I watched the children, one at a time, going up, rolling around, getting weighed, and giggling all the while. They really did have fun. As silly as the whole thing was, it seemed fun. The audience was laughing. Everyone on stage was having fun, and the contestants had the biggest smiles of all. I realized they were not participating in this for the money. It was just something strange, unusual and fun, something different that was only done here and only came once a year, and only a small handful of people got the chance to "roll". It was a great thrill for each of them! You could see it in their eyes after their roll (after all the grits were washed off their face of course).

My turn approached. Still I was unsure, could I do this? Could I really get on a stage in front of hundreds of people and roll around in a pool of grits to see how much would stick to me? Ewwwww... what a horrid thought! I slowly climbed the stairway, my hand landing on a small pile of grits dropped by a previous contestant descending the slippery, wet stairs. I quickly lifted my hand in disgust trying to shake off the grits, carefully flecking the last speck from my hand. About then the man behind me started to laugh and said "And YOU'RE going to ROLL in it?!?" All I could do was laugh and shrug. I had serious doubts now about my ability to really muster the guts to do this. But here I was, only one turn away and on the back of the stage already. Hardly a time to turn tail and run. I sighed, took a deep breath, tried to smile bravely and pretended to be as excited as the others, not wanting to detract from their fun. Surely, it couldn't be too bad.

The moment came. I walked onto the stage and smiled as I saw my children down below grinning from ear to ear. I knew I was in for it now. There was no turning back. I bravely smiled, realizing at this point that I not only had to embarrass myself publicly but had to proclaim my identity to the world first! It would have been so much easier to do this anonymously. I somehow found my voice and spoke my name and hometown into the microphone. Then I went on to be weighed. I did chicken out here. No reason for the whole world to know what I weighed. They left me some dignity and just giggled quietly. Then the man, ever so gallantly, took my hand to help me into the pool.

"God!", I cringed as I stepped, fully clothed, into that pool of grits. "How on earth did I get here?", I thought. "WHY?" Oh well, I was there, so I figured to make the most of it. As the count began (I had 10 seconds to totally embarrass myself), I knelt down into the muck and tried real hard to put my heart and soul into the event. Don't think I did too well though. I couldn't even bear it for the full 10 seconds. I think about 5 seconds into the "fun" I was ready to get out! I began to rise and slipped in the muck, falling in again, my mouth filling with grits. Gross! I came up gagging on grits. A lady laughed and asked, "Are they good?" Best I could respond was that they needed butter and salt.


I carefully waddled back to the scales once again to be weighed in front of everyone like a side of beef. They proudly announced that 17 pounds of grits were clinging to my body! I smiled graciously and waddled off to be hosed down like a pig in a "waller". They hosed us down after the rolling but those grits just refused to be washed off. Ended up taking a pound or two with me. I'm sure I'll be finding grits in places that I do not wish to think about for some time to come. One man claimed that last year it took him three weeks to get the last of the grits out of his ear!

Oh, the things into which we get caught up. I guess sometimes in life, you just have to "grit" and bear it.