FOOD FOR THE FOURTH: PITS. PORK. PRIDE.

JUST LIKE IT DOES WITH JUNETEENTH - THE FEDERAL holiday marking the end of slavery in the United States - barbeque and the Fourth of July go hand in hand in the Black community. And so it was for me growing up in the 1960s in Marshall, Texas.

My earliest memories of those big community cookouts on the Fourth of July originated at a place we knew as Cole's farm. People from all parts of East Texas and beyond would come to this cookout for the best barbecue, best liquor, and overall good time.

If you wanted to commit a crime in the Marshall area, the Fourth of July would have been the best day to do it because all the law enforcement officers in the surrounding area would be chowing down at Cole’s.

A family affair

The man behind this annual gathering was Big Cole. At least that's how most people knew Clifford Cole, a big, towering, bellowing, no-nonsense, workhorse of a man who owned and operated Cole’s Garage and Wrecker Service.

Big Cole and his wife, Miss Pearlie, the parents of one of my best friends, monitored area police scanners 24/7 for accidents and people in distress. If you saw him, usually it was when he was headed in his signature army green tow truck to a call to save someone in distress. Rescuing people from ditches and car wrecks was part of their life’s work. And it enabled them to build a thriving enterprise.

If it made sense for anyone among us to celebrate by barbecuing on Independence Day, it made sense for Big Cole and Miss Pearlie, who were truly independent thanks to their business.

But they weren't arrogant about it. They knew their business thrived only because of the automotive mishaps and misfortunes suffered by people in the community. And so every Fourth of July, Big Cole would turn his farm into a place of celebration to show his gratitude and appreciation for the many customers who enabled his business to flourish and grow.

Growth, gorging, and gluttony

As his business grew, so did his annual Fourth of July cookout. Year after year, more and more people showed up — family, friends, and folks who became friends because of a common experience: Big Cole had saved them. It was a truly joyous occasion – one that still resonates with me to this day.

But as much as the annual Fourth of July barbecue at Big Cole's farm represented a celebration of friendship and family, good times, gratitude, generosity, and hospitality, there was another side to it that – at least looking back with the wisdom that comes with age – was not so great, even though I thought it was at the time.

The cold fact of the matter is that even though each Fourth of July we all got to enjoy a fantastic cookout, I – and others who attended this annual feast – treated it more like a pig-out. It was a time when you could eat all the food you wanted for as long as you wanted – and that's what most of us did.

On the one hand, perhaps our gluttony could be forgiven. You see, you haven't had barbecue until you've had the kind that comes from East Texas. And of all the barbecue in East Texas, none was better than what rolled off the custom-built barbecue pit at Cole's farm.

This is something for which I have firsthand knowledge. My Aunt Dorothy and Miss Pearlie, the best of friends, would work on that giant-sized, custom-built, smoking pit from sun-up to sundown, continually basting and turning big juicy slabs of pork ribs, chicken, burgers, hot dogs, and brisket.

And the barbecue sauce. Well, let’s just say people always wanted extra sauce. But there were plenty of other things to eat at this massive spread: Potato salad, corn, baked beans, potato chips, any kind of snack you wanted, and any kind of homemade dessert you desired. The adults had plenty of adult beverages to drink and the kids had plenty of grape and strawberry sodas. It was the one day no one monitored how much soda we drank. I'm pretty sure the foundation for my sugar addiction was laid at Cole's farm.

The most fun I ever had growing up was at these barbecues. There were plenty of horses, hayrides, and tractor pulls to keep the most active kid entertained. Fireworks and fun were the words of the day as we ran and laughed. For us kids, this event was among the crown jewels of all summer activities, right up to AstroWorld – the famed but since-demolished amusement park in Houston that paid homage to the city's early role as a hub of human space flight.

Zero gravity environment

We may not have been astronauts in training at Cole's farm. But we sure acted like we were floating in space. It was a time when we could be carefree about ourselves — when we could eat with our hands, lick our fingers, get our clothes dirty, run around, and be loud and rambunctious. It was a day when we didn’t have to think about the cares of the world or anyone else’s because everything was okay. It was a day when we could break the rules. A time to abandon all rules for eating. It was a day when everything was everything. And there was plenty of it. It was a celebration of plenty, of good times, and of sharing. It was a time when I would eat and eat, and not think about the consequences because the hotdogs and the hayrides were all wrapped in the same experience.

Better discipline

Over the years, as I attended countless barbecues, cookouts, and picnics as an adult, I continued to eat with the same no rules, no consequences, and wild abandon of kid on Big Cole’s Farm -- a kid who could not distinguish food from fun. The food became the fun. It was a time that I couldn’t tell myself no even if I wanted to. Certainly not with so many family and friends around. What else could I do but overeat, drink, and be merry? It was food, festivities, and fun all rolled into one.

My struggle to quiet an insatiable desire for food used to be real. I have since learned that it’s possible to have the kind of carefree abandon and no-holds-barred fun I experienced growing up, but without falling into a food frenzy. Now, it’s all about clarity. Food is less about fun and more about fuel. I know now that I can still savor the best of times on Cole’s farm, but I don’t have to pig out at barbecues, cookouts, and picnics. Yes, I can savor the memories without craving the food.

Still, just for the record – whether you spell it BBQ, BarbQ, or Barbecue — none compares to the East Texas BBQ at Big Cole’s.