By Pamela Ison Duke

I am the least visible of the Ison siblings. The second born of the four who grew up amongst the vineyards of Brooks Georgia. Those tender years of childhood are full of vivid and rich memories.

Driving through row after row of vines, sitting on the side of the tractor as dad checked the plants. Taking a ride with him in the farm truck to the local post office where there would be stacks of letters asking for the free Ison’s catalog.

Then, there were the school days where we got off the bus at Grandma Ison’s house, and literally ran all the way to the ole Mule barn that sat behind the simple dwelling.

We would walk through the door of that old barn and the earthy scent of sawdust, dirt, and vines would rise greet us. Most of the time in those early days, dad would be on the phone with a customer. Grandpa, grandma, and mom would be wrapping grapevines and packing orders. As soon as we walked in, mom would go into mom mode. Do we have homework? How was school? Pam… did you talk too much today? An unfortunate, and apparently, genetic occurrence since this also appears in at least one other sibling.

We would then meander outside to play, ride bikes, or swing high on a wooden seat with rope that had been tied to a branch of the big tree in the back yard.

Slowly, the business day wound down and we would head home. Dad, almost always, allowed us to ride in the back of the truck down country roads to our house. His window would be down and he would be watching us through the side view mirror. He would go fast over bumps and around curves to make us squeal. As an adult, I am now sure that it really wasn’t that fast, but dad said he would be sure to stop the truck to get us in case one of us fell out. This always ended in cries of exasperation from mom. It would make us laugh. The memory still makes me laugh. I now know that cool evening air, country roads, and laughter was the trifecta of childhood.

If dad was the vision and driver of the business, then mom was the glue. She held everything together. We would arrive home and there was supper to cook, homework to check, chores for the kids and a regular nighttime routine. Many nights I remember dad sitting in the floor with the youngest of us, my brother Greg, as they “played” cars.

On Saturdays, mom ran a tight ship! The house HAD to be scrubbed within an inch of its life. It had to be so clean that it would GLEAM in the dark if necessary. Every piece of furniture polished, baseboards wiped down, and carpet vacuumed. I can still remember the vigorous protests, of a seven-year-old me, exclaiming that we had just done this a week ago!! It made no difference!! Evidently, dirt in our house was as prolific as our vineyards.

The reason for this perfectionistic ambition was simple. Mom never knew who dad would be bringing in the door at any given moment. People would drive from far away to tour the vineyards, to talk to dad, or ask questions related to growing a vineyard. Dad would invite them in to meet the family. Many times my sister Janet and I would be asked to sing a song. We would also do a few animal impersonations. If memory serves me well, Janet could do a mean impersonation of a chimpanzee! (I am quite sure she still does!)

It is glorious to recall those years growing up. Even as life marched on and with it came twists and turns. As a young woman, I met and married a wonderful man. His calling and vocation took me far from those beloved vineyards. We have moved as far north as New York and as far south as Central Florida, where I now reside.

I have had to watch from a distance as my brother Greg, and sisters Darlene and Janet have worked countless hours, made a million daily decisions, and born a workload that was simply too great at times. I have also watched them grow a business. I could not be prouder of them.

Though not on the land in person, my heart and soul are grateful for the life the vineyards created. I am proud to say that I am Pam Ison, and that my heart beats true blue for the beloved Muscadine of my father. I am even prouder that one of those muscadines carries my name, the “Pam”.

The vineyards are rich with our legacy and the land now carries the footprints of this generation, where they once carried those of my father. It is the beloved landscape of a man who carried the vision of a future for his family.

We celebrate 90 years this year! The business has grown beyond a simple farmer’s biggest aspirations.

However, I will always remember the simplicity of the earliest days, where I ran to keep up with the pace of my father, as he walked that land full of hopes and dreams.

The dreams of Muscadine Magic! How sweet it is!!

Enjoy!!

Pam Ison-Duke