By: Angela Gillaspie © 2002-2003

We all know that if Momma ain't happy - ain't nobody happy.

The last time I wasn't happy the dog ran away, my husband slept in his truck, and a democrat was elected governor. The family has since taken major pains to keep this from happening again, but they can't do it all. There are times that I must make myself happy, and the way I do this is Pie Therapy.

As a child, I learned all about Pie Therapy by watching Momma and Granny Polly. Pies were made for funerals, church socials, holidays, barbecues, because Uncle Booger got out of jail (again), and for Aunt Bertie's seventh (or was it ninth?) wedding.

In the summer, Momma used Pie Therapy to keep us in line; she knew that if we were eating pie we weren't fussing, fighting, or trying to give Cousin Peanut a permanent wave using Momma's rollers and molasses. When Momma pulled her pie out of the oven, the aroma crept through the house and across the yard where it grabbed us by the nose. We sat up and took notice like a preacher watching the offering plate on Easter Sunday, because we knew if we were good, Momma would let us have first dibs on the pie.

Later in life, I discovered this kind of pie was called "Hush-up Pie."

Pie Therapy extended to the masses. Pie cooled your mouth after eating sizzling barbecue, calmed you down after being on fire for the Lord, and gave you a sugar rush while listening to the local politician's blather about sewer funding. Pies of this sort were called "Fellowship Pies."

Strict rules must be obeyed when making Fellowship Pie. Granny Polly introduced me to the Pie Pecking Order where young women brought the easy pies like custard, pudding, or fresh fruit pies topped with whipped cream. Middle-aged women brought cobblers, double-crusted fruit pies, and nut pies like pecan, peanut, and walnut. And only the older women could bring the meringue-topped pies. Why? "It takes years of experience to make a meringue that ain't like calf slobber," she'd say.

She warned me that any disruption to the Pie Pecking Order would cause pie pandemonium and plenty of pouting.

Another way to share goodwill through the pie arts was a "Funeral Pie" which was made to help the dearly departed pass on to paradise or perdition. If the funeral was for the pearly gates bound, fluffy and light pies like Chocolate Chip Pie, Lemon Chiffon, and Strawberry Cream were the best kind to make. It's uplifting to wrap your lips around something creamy, cool, and sweet, plus we hoped our loved one was resting on a cloud that was as soft and billowy like the pie during the trip to meet Jesus.

Now, if the deceased was on his way to see Beelzebub, then plain pies like Pumpkin, Chess, or Caramel were usually made. Granny Polly couldn't stand her neighbor George, but when he expired, she made two Mock Apple Pies using crackers saying, "I ain't gonna waste my good apples on that meaner'n a striped snake heathen George OR his dog beatin' family, God Bless 'em."

Many Southern women have a Funeral Pie in the freezer right now at this very moment - just in case Grandpaw Elbert's pacemaker stops keeping pace. Of course, if there's no funeral after a month or two, we use the pie for our PMS or Manic Mom Moments. That reminds me of another kind of pie that I make a lot, the "Momma Ain't Happy Pie." This is the main kind of pie that I make to keep me happy. When I'm feeling down, stressed, or out of sorts, I'll bake something that makes my loved ones groan in pie-eating ecstasy as they sway back and forth in their chairs doing the oh-my-gosh-this-is-so-good pie dance, which never fails to raise my spirits!

When performed correctly, Pie Therapy makes sure Momma stays happy. And we all know this is for our own good because there isn't much difference between a Funeral Pie and a Momma Ain't Happy Pie.

Wanna keep Momma happy? Try these pie recipes: Pie Recipes

Stay tuned for more SouthernAngel's psychological pie humor!