Today is NATIONAL AVOCADO DAY. I relish avocados and enjoy them in guacamole and especially on top of ceviche. At our favorite local Mexican restaurant, ceviche is served that way, except one time it came without the avocado, and I asked the waiter for the avocado and he said that they had run out; I said that I did not want the ceviche without it. Other people from my "Wild Lunch Bunch" thought I was being unreasonable.
I visited their other restaurant in another city and ordered ceviche and it arrived without the sliced avocado. I asked for avocado and the waiter said that it didn't come with avocado and showed the menu to me. I asked for the Manager and he recognized me from being a patron of the restaurant in Washington C.H. and he immediately instructed the waiter to bring avocado. When I saw him again at the Washington C.H. location, he asked if I'd been causing trouble lately. I said, "I always demand my avocados!"
Avocados target the health and function of the womb and cervix of the female; they resemble these organs. Today's research shows that when a woman eats one avocado a week, it helps to balance hormones, helps to shed unwanted birth weight, and helps to prevent cervical cancer.
And how profound is this? It takes exactly nine months to grow an avocado from blossom to ripened fruit. There are over 14,000 photolytic chemical constituents of nutrition in each avocado.
My friend told me, "You need a fourteen-year-old grandson." Whenever I have computer issues.
Now, whenever I am having computer problems, I call my friend Char's grandson Cory to help with the problem. He came one time and it took him 5 minutes to fix a problem. I was having problems recently and it was after 10:00 at night. I didn't think it was appropriate to call Cory as I know he works during the day. Instead, I called his mother Dai who is computer savvy. I knew that she stayed up late as we have had conversations late at night. As I was trying to understand her instructions she said, "I'll just come over there." Within moments, she arrived but she also had the dilemma and she said she would just call Cory. I asked, "Won't he be in bed?" She said, "Nah, he'll be up." After a circuitous route of getting to Cory including calling, texting, FB messaging him and his fiancee, and finally his grandmother going to the house, he was found wearing headphones and not hearing the phone. When he called, I had to allow him to see my computer and he had the problem fixed within minutes. Thanks to Cory, Dai, and Char, my late-night saviors for their above and beyond service and friendship!
Everyone will find it amusing that I was the "go-to" person when we first began using computers at work. My fellow-management people--all men--were very resistant to the change.
The men could not stand the "techies"--our company's computer guys--because they were, to a man, condescending, patronizing, and supercilious. As the "techies" were also young, their haughty attitudes did not sit well with men old enough to be their fathers.
When the "techies" came to instruct or fix problems, I actually listened, documented, and was able to apply those lessons. Other management people would call me to ask, "What program do we use for...?" "How do I get in to...?" It wasn't that I knew about computers, but only that I remembered and applied the information which I needed for work.
When I saw Jimmy Fallon on Saturday Night Live portray Nick Burns, Your Company's Computer Guy I laughed at how accurate it was and when Nick Burns yelled "Move!" in exasperation of the ignorance of the people, I yelled, "Eric, help!", because Eric was the most arrogant of all the "techies" I dealt with at work.
Even after I retired, guys would call to ask questions and I would answer, "Look in the black notebook I left in my desk, or call Eric!"
My brother Duke knows all the words of Big Boots from Elvis' movie G. I. Blues. I am teary-eyed whenever I hear either sing it. I have some big boots to fill. Some family reflections on footwear and other bits of trivia: My brother Bode had a good line: "Do you know what they say about a guy with big hands and big feet?"
"He also has big gloves and big shoes!" I always use this quip when I hear the recent musings about the meaning of the size of a certain politician's hands.
My brother Norman worked with a guy who always wore shoes which were too big for his feet and the shoes turned up on the ends, making them look like shoes for elves. One day Norman told him, "Just so you know, there's no truth to that rumor you've heard!"
From my brother Les: "Don't criticize a man until you walk a mile in his shoes; that way you can be a mile away from him and you've also got his shoes!" When my brother Kenny came home after completing his duty at Lackland Air Force Base, he was wearing a pair of cowboy boots with metal tips on the toes; he called them "Shit-kickin' roach killers". "If the shoe fits--buy it!"--Imelda Marcos What kind of shoes do frogs wear? Open-TOAD! Lee Hazlewood wrote Nancy Sinatra's These Boots Are Made For Walkin'; I was surprised at the spelling of his surname. I was pleased to learn that Kinky Boots was based on a true story. My friend Mona Lisa refers to the current resident of the White House as Puss In Boots; when I asked the reason, she said, "The moral of that story is about the benefits of lying, trickery, and wealth."
When we had our "Barbara Stanwyck Film Festival", where we viewed--and reviewed-- all of Stanwyck's movies, we were dreading watching The Bride Wore Boots, simply because of the title and not wanting our shining star to be tarnished, we were thrilled to be able to appreciate her last comedy. Also in that movie was Diana Lynn; I have also watched all of Diana Lynn's movies, simply because I was ALMOST named for her. After having five boys, my mother assumed the sixth would also be a boy. She had told my oldest brother Bode that he could name the baby if it were a girl. Diana Lynn was a cute ingenue on whom he had a crush. Fortunately for me, Mother declined to give the name to me. Whenever I have met women of my generation named Diana, I always ask their middle name, and every one was a "Lynn" also! In They Died With Their Boots On, Errol Flynn could ALMOST make me like Custer!
Das Boot, an epic war movie, had an especially moving scene when they sang It's A Long Way To Tipperary. "Das Boot" is also the name for a large, German beer-drinking vessel.
For Christmas Gerald gave me an Elvis desk calendar. Each day there is a different, gorgeous picture of Elvis to greet me. Sometimes the pages will have bits of trivia. On April 10, the caption read:
"Q: Technically, Elvis' first radio broadcast came at 10 years old, singing in a youth talent show. What song did he perform?"
"A: Old Shep."
The song always brings a lump to my throat. My first memory of hearing Old Shep was listening to my father's recording by Red Foley, who was also the composer of the song.. Our friend Carl Wilt would perform it oftentimes at our get-togethers at The Fish And Game Lodge.
Yesterday, while shopping at Aldi's, I noticed that dog food items are named "SHEP"; naturally (for me, at least), I began singing Old Shep, in a low voice, using Elvis' arrangement. Listen below:
A woman, bagging her groceries, asked, "What were you singing?" When I told her the song was Old Shep, she told me that her father used to sing it and he was a local musician. When I asked his name she said, "Ralph Streitenberger." and I asked, "So, you are Red and Vanilla's daughter?" She was delighted that I knew her parents and I told her my maiden name, that my family was from Bloomingburg, that her father was a classmate of my oldest brother, that her father was my youngest brother's barber, that he had come to the funerals of my brothers and my parents, and that I had enjoyed hearing her father perform numerous times, and that he had sung Old Shep at the Fish And Game Lodge. As I shared several other fond memories about her father, she said that it was wonderful to hear how well he was remembered.
My friend Billie Bower is an avid Elvis fan and she shared her special memory blog item with me:
ELVIS MEMORY SHARED
I was traveling with my parents in February 1956 through Tennessee on our way to Florida. The radio was playing when a local DJ introduced a new record called Heartbreak Hotel by a local singer. I was in the back seat of the car with a girlfriend and when we heard the first notes of the song, we both looked at each other incredulously....such a different sound. I had my dad pull off the road and wait to hear what the artist's name was so that I could write it down. When he said "Elvis Presley", I wondered how to spell such an unusual name. Two weeks later, when we returned to Columbus, Ohio, I went to several record shops to find the record and was told that they didn't have it and had never heard of someone by the name of Elvis Presley. Needless to say, it wasn't long until everybody had heard of Elvis...so I felt I had discovered him in my own way. I was 17 and he was 20 and I was hooked forever with his talent, his charm, his charisma.
I was fortunate enough to be able to see him in person when he came to Columbus, Ohio, in the spring of 1956 at Veterans Memorial. I was not a screaming sort of fan...more of a bookworm/quiet type of fan...so when all the girls were screaming, I was irritated because I couldn't hear him. BUT when he was getting ready to close his performance, he lowered the stand-type microphone between his legs and held out his arm pointing to the audience and saying..."If you can't come back to see me when I come to town the next time, 'You Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog'!" followed by the song which had not been released yet. So the bookworm/quiet fan actually swooned in my seat!
I remember always buying his records at a local Kresge's store every chance I could. I got married in 1957 and my first baby arrived in 1958, and my first Mother's Day gift was Elvis' 2nd album. Always a fan but never able to afford going to his concerts with a young family, I still had my records. I eventually had 4 children (2 girls and 2 boys) and when I had my first son on January 8, 1965, I was unaware at the time that it was Elvis' birthday. So Bobby always had to share his birthday with Elvis and the anthologies I would always listen to. After he graduated from OSU and had to leave for ROTC military duty, I danced with my son in the kitchen to Elvis singing I Can't Help Falling In Love With You, a very special memory.
I always got teased by my family and friends and co-workers about my love for Elvis, but it didn't bother me. When I only had 2 children in 1963, I had made plans to go to Graceland to finally see his home but alas, my daughters both came down with chicken pox and the trip was cancelled. I remember finally being able to buy 5 tickets to see Elvis to share him with my family in 1974, at University of Dayton. Our tickets were so bad that you could hardly see him, but my family didn't watch him....they were watching me!
I never joined his fan club or collected teddy bears, lipstick, etc., but eventually got hooked on his bubble gum cards, Christmas ornaments, velvet paintings, beach towels, t-shirts, in addition to many special books and album collections. Then on June 25, 1977, I was able to get 4 tickets in the 16th row at the Riverfront Coliseum in Cincinnati to see him perform. I was so excited, but my husband was at summer camp in Michigan, my children were at band camp or unavailable, so I called my girlfriend that had been with me in 1956 when we heard him for the first time on the trip to Florida. She and her daughter were available and so I recruited my mother to go too. She said she didn't want to go as she was not an Elvis fan, but I convinced her I needed her company. So the 4 of us were off to Cincinnati for a wonderful concert. He wore his sunburst outfit and I remember that he played the piano to Unchained Melody and complained about having novocaine from a dental appointment and couldn't curl his upper lip. Again, I was the quiet and shy fan who would not go up to get his scarf (I regret to say), but I did buy a rolled-up picture of him for $5 to take home to my dad. I felt bad that we left Daddy alone as it was his 63rd birthday! So 6 weeks later when I was driving home from work (North American Rockwell), I heard on my car radio that Elvis had died. I didn't think I would be able to drive home as I was so distraught. But I remembered when I gave Dad the rolled up picture of Elvis, he said, "Now what am I supposed to do with that?" I called my Dad and said you can frame it and give it back to me. So when I went to my parents home in December of 1977, I was alone in their house when I went to turn on the lamp in the living room only to find the framed picture of Elvis looking at me and almost had a heart attack. It was so life-like! I was asked by everyone...now where are you going to hang that picture? Well, it was so big and heavy, it needed to definitely be on a stud...how appropriate...a stud on a stud! I hung it in the entryway of our home for several years, but now that we live in a small condo, it is behind the door to our computer room and when the door is closed and I'm on the computer, he is there looking at me.
I still had not gotten to Graceland. Again, we planned a trip in 1982...packed and ready to leave when we received a phone call that my husband's mother had passed away in Michigan. But finally in 1988, we did an unplanned visit to Graceland. We went to Florida to visit our son, Bob Jr. and while I was reading the map on our way back to Ohio, I noticed we were near a route that went to Tupelo, MS, and asked my husband could we take a little detour home? I'll never forget the highway leading to Tupelo...I nicknamed it the Honeysuckle Highway...as wild honeysuckle were blooming along the roadside all the way. When we arrived at his birthplace and home, it was closed, but I was able to sit in the swing on the front porch, look in the windows, and reflect. We stayed overnight in Memphis and at long last, I was able to see Graceland. I'm still hoping to go back again as more is open to the public now.
After his passing, I couldn't listen to his music...it hurt too much. And several months later, trying to explain my feelings to my children, I thought I was ready to listen to some of his more upbeat songs like Poke Salad Annie and Trouble. Wrong! My favorite upbeat song is Trouble and when I played it, I realized I still wasn't ready as the tears flowed. It was from King Creole, one of his better movies. I did enjoy his movies, if for no other reason than watching him perform and sing...like the music videos of today. But I did want him to have the opportunity to star with Barbara Streisand in A Star Is Born" as he so wanted to be a serious actor.
And last but not least, Sue, is my memory of you doing your Elvis impersonation! It was so great to have a friend with the same excitement for Elvis that I felt. I remember you were the one I wanted to share my Elvis rose with so when I ordered one for me, I ordered one for you. Now they are not available.
I have wonderful memories of Elvis and will always enjoy listening to his music. When I leave this world, he will be singing How Great Thou Art for me.
As I was decorating for Christmas, I was rearranging books in the library to make room for my "Elvis Shrine". Tucked inside my Latin II book, I found something I'd written when I was 15 years old. It was a rough draft for a contest I had entered. Obviously I worked on other interests while I was supposed to be doing schoolwork.
As a teenager, I listened to a local radio program and there would be contests with one of those "Be the third caller, have the answer, and you'll win the prize." gambits.
I hadn't been able to win any of those, but several times, when one had to write about a topic, and not be just the third caller, I won several times. The prizes were always the same: 2 tickets for a movie at the Fayette Theater.
Elvis' fourth movie King Creole had been released and several of my classmates had gone to Columbus to see it. Imagine--being able to go to the big city--to the Lowe's Theater to see THE KING. Full of envy, I listened to every word as they described the movie. We--the less fortunate--would have to wait for what seemed like forever for the movie to be shown in Washington Court House, and even then, I wondered how could I get the money--or a way--to go? Previously, my brother Gary and his wife had lived in town and I would go there and stay overnight and my sister-in-law and I would go to see the movies with the tickets I had won. By the time King Creole was released they'd already moved to the country.
The contest to win tickets for King Creole was announced and the contest required that one write a letter entitled "Dear Elvis" using the titles of Elvis' songs in the text. I won the contest and my submission was read on the air and afterwards I was teased mercilessly by my brothers and classmates about my silliness. My cousin's wife took me to see the movie and she bought the popcorn and drinks.
All these years later, as I was looking at the rough draft for a contest, I noticed that I had the songs numbered; I didn't recall all the contest rules but it must have required a certain number of songs or number of words to be used. I cringed at what my 15-year-old self had written, but I showed it to my brother. He is usually caustic and sarcastic but he said, sincerely, "Aww, it's sweet; I never knew you were sweet." I answered, "I think it shows what a naif I was." He said, "It was probably every girl's fantasy to think she was Elvis' girlfriend." I am nine years older than my brother, and although he knows me better than nearly anyone else, of course he did not remember that naive 15-year-old as he was only 6 at the time. He said, "You were so competitive that you had to be the one who knew every damn song; so you haven't changed THAT much; paragraph five is pretty good."
The following was written by my 15-year-old self--it's even signed "Phyllis"--as I was known in school (Elvis' songs are capitalized):
Dear Elvis:
In my imagination, I have YOUNG DREAMS that TOMORROW NIGHT you can put on your BLUE SUEDE SHOES and I can take the MYSTERY TRAIN down to NEW ORLEANS and we can go to the KING CREOLE night club, where we can have a HOT DOG, some TUTTI FRUTTI, and CRAWFISH to eat, so LET'S HAVE A PARTY with MAYBELLINE, DANNY, and LONG TALL SALLY.
HAVE I TOLD YOU LATELY if I had ONE NIGHT with you, I would be ALL SHOOK UP, but JUST BECAUSE I gave you a TEDDY BEAR, it doesn't mean I am ALMOST IN LOVE. There might be some TROUBLE because YOU'RE A HEARTBREAKER, but THAT'S ALL RIGHT because I'm PLAYING FOR KEEPS.
Elvis, please DON'T BE CRUEL, because it will be THE END OF THE ROAD you FOOL, FOOL, FOOL, if I FORGOT TO REMEMBER TO FORGET. I JUST CAN'T MAKE IT BY MYSELF, but if we were at HEARTBREAK HOTEL on BLUEBERRY HILL, I wouldn't be a HARD HEADED WOMAN, because I'M BEGINNING TO FORGET YOU!
DONCHA THINK IT'S TIME for you to TREAT ME NICE because I'm LOVING YOU? It's NOW OR NEVER; after all, THAT'S MY DESIRE! TELL ME WHY that IT IS SO STRANGE , but IT IS NO SECRET that IT WOULDN'T BE THE SAME WITHOUT YOU so LET ME be your LOVER DOLL and that will be MY HAPPINESS!
If you're worried about being a POOR BOY, I don't need any MONEY HONEY, I just want TRUE LOVE! You know, IT'S BEEN SO LONG, DARLING; this seems like a ONE-SIDED LOVE AFFAIR unless you LOVE ME TENDER. If you said WON'T YOU WEAR MY RING AROUND YOUR NECK, that's when MY WISH CAME TRUE. I said THAT'S ALL RIGHT because I WANT YOU, I NEED YOU, I LOVE YOU!
This might be TOO MUCH, but THIS TIME I'll be THE FIRST IN LINE, but DON'T have a HEART OF STONE because you are the KEEPER OF THE KEY and I'M COUNTING ON YOU.
If THERE'S NO TOMORROW, put your CRAZY ARMS around me, you BROWN-EYED HANDSOME MAN, because I JUST CAN'T MAKE IT BY MYSELF and I've GOT A LOT OF LIVIN' TO DO! I DON'T CARE IF THE SUN DON'T SHINE because I BELIEVE that you know that I will always be STEADFAST, LOYAL, AND TRUE and I'LL NEVER STAND IN YOUR WAY.
I'M GONNA SIT RIGHT DOWN AND CRY OVER YOU if you say BABY, I DON'T CARE and I WANT TO BE FREE and I'VE GOT A WOMAN and WE'RE GONNA MOVE.
Although I'm a HARD-HEADED WOMAN, I do UNDERSTAND, but HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL; am I OUT OF SIGHT, OUT OF MIND?
I'M BEGINNING TO FORGET YOU because I'm looking at that BLUE MOON OF KENTUCKY and knowing THAT'S WHEN YOUR HEARTACHES BEGIN.
My friend Judy and I are celebrating our birthdays this year by going to Graceland. I have been to Elvis' home previously but she has never gone. Below is a Sue's News article I published in 2010:
U. S. 53310761
As a teeny-bopper, I was the world's most devoted Elvis Presley fan. When I was thirteen, I even went to the beautician Evelyn Evans to have my hair cut like Elvis'. My bedroom was completely covered with Elvis Presley pictures. Every time a new song was released, several of us Elvis fans would listen to the record over and over to be able to write down the lyrics to be able to sing along. My greatest artistic achievement was to sing along and gyrate as Elvis did when he sang Trouble from the movie King Creole. As the years passed, I would always watch his god-awful movies and buy whatever records were released, and I never lost the love for him, but by the sixties I was "into" folk, protest music, and jazz and although I went to see him in concert in 1973, my passion had subsided. I attributed it to "growing up". In 1973, we went to Graceland and stood outside the gates and took pictures of the gates, but this was before his death and the tours; after the tours started we went to Memphis to see inside Graceland. I was disturbed because his grave marker has "Elvis Aaron Presley" and I know that's wrong because it's really Elvis Aron Presley as the Aron rhymes with the middle name of his twin Jesse Garon Presley. I bought the commemorative stamps and sent out "first day cancellations" on January 8 to my fellow Elvis fans.
Several years after Elvis' death, my brother called me on January 8 and said, "Hey, they're having an Elvis trivia contest and you should call in and win." I tuned in and one had to be the 3rd caller; the questions were very easy but I couldn't get through to answer. Then a question came which nobody called to answer. I dialed the number and answered the question, "What was Elvis' serial number in the Army?" I answered, "U.S. 53310761." The DJ asked, "How on earth did you know that?" I told him that after Elvis was drafted, there was a girl group--The Thirteens--that had a song entitled Dear 53310761 (which I have the record!), and then I proceeded to sing the song. I also told the DJ that there were at least 25 songs recorded ABOUT Elvis. I also told him that it was "U.S." rather than "R.A." because "U.S." is used for draftees and "R.A." is used for enlisted people. I think that was entirely TMI as he then told me about my prize and shut me down.
What did I win? ALL of Elvis' records! Of course, I already had all of Elvis' records. I gave them as a present to my brother who is also an Elvis fan.
Now I have an "Elvis shrine" at Christmas time as I have a tree full of Elvis ornaments which I surround with Elvis collectibles. This past Christmas my friend Arminta gave me an Elvis Christmas stocking which is shaped like Elvis' white satin jumpsuit pant leg and boot. It has a button when pushed plays Blue Christmas. I send Elvis Christmas cards to all of my friends who are also Elvis devotees. I'm just sad that I never met him.
When I was a child, my mother made delicious drop dumplings in leftover soups and stews. She called them "puffy dumplings" but when my oldest brother was little, he thought that she said "puppy dumplings" so it's always been a family saying to call them "puppy dumplings".
As a young bride, I learned that my husband liked his mother's drop dumplings. Naturally, wanting to please him, I decided to make drop dumplings. I had never made drop dumplings before and I called to ask my mother for the recipe and that evening I prepared the dumplings. However, I mistakenly put a tablespoon of batter instead of a teaspoon in the broth and the result was enormous drop dumplings. When I told my husband that we were having "puppy dumplings" for dinner, he took one look at them and said, "Those look more like Saint Bernard dumplings!"
A friend asked, "Don't you think it's terrible that the schools want to do away with cursive?"
I answered, "No, I think teaching writing is a waste of time; we are in a computer age; all a person should have to learn is to write his name--to have a signature."
I said that I print nearly everything by hand clearly. She said printing is too slow. I took out paper and pen and told her to copy something from a book and I would print the same thing at the same time. My printing was much faster than her writing. She protested, "But I can't print fast." I said, "That's because you haven't done it."
She said, "But handwriting is important in lots of things."
I said, "I think handwriting is only important with CALLIGRAPHY and SIGNATURES!"
She said, "But people with an artistic bent need to learn cursive."
I said, "Then it should be an elective for those artistes!"
We had a lengthy discussion. I teased her, "It's because YOU have pretty handwriting!" She said, "But you have pretty handwriting also!" I answered, "Just think about people who don't have whatever right brain/left brain function allows us to have that knack. You do know it's a knack, don't you?", I asked.
I said, "I know greatly intelligent people who have illegible handwriting." I told her about a guy who'd gone to school at Bloomingburg for twelve years. He practiced and practiced because he wanted straight A's, but try as he might the best he could achieve were C's in penmanship. There were probably less than 20 in his graduating class, and he was undoubtedly the smartest one in his class, yet, from that tiny, rural school, he went to Harvard University and became a professor and is a noted economist.
Yes, give me the roasted corn, Bloomin' Onions, funnel cakes, elephant ears, Polish Sausage sandwiches, fare at St. Colman's, Pork Producers, and Cattlemen's Association, but this year I have fallen in love with POTATO ON A STICK! I ate something similar last year, with the potato deep fried like French fries, curled and served on a plate, but this year the potatoes are served on a skewer. The concessionaire drills a hole through the potato and puts it on a stick and fries it.
The girls in the picture, Elizabeth and Brittany, were walking through the building where our booth is located, showing the potato on a stick, trying to create business, and I asked them to bring one back to me, which they promptly did.
Elizabeth returned and said that she had been reported by another vendor for soliciting business which is against the rules of the Fair. What an assault on their entrepreneurial spirit!
The girls are from North Carolina, moved to Zanesville, where Elizabeth's mother and step-father started the concession business, working at county fairs.
After reading about malaphors, I was reminded of several examples of what I termed spoonerisms, but I could have assigned the term "malaphor" to some of them.
See my Sue's News article written in 2011 titled SPOONERISMS:
SPOONERISM: an error in speech in which corresponding consonants, vowels or morphemes are switched (see metathesis). The condition was named after the Reverend William Archibald Spooner, a British cleric, scholar and professor. Though these examples might be apocryphal, he was attributed to have uttered: "a blushing crow" (for "a crushing blow"), "you've tasted two worms" (for "you've wasted two terms"); and when giving a toast to "our queer old dean" (for "our dear old Queen").
When Steve Forbes was running for President, he said, "The stack is decked." when he meant to say "The deck is stacked."
My friend Patty's husband Chuck has some classic ones:
"Wibel and Orbel White" for Wilbur and Orville Wright
"Fee fries" for French fries
"Sank Franatra" for Frank Sinatra
My sister-in-law Kay was also known for her Spoonerisms. My brother Bode was always cute with his answers and had a large collection of retorts if the answer to a question was an obvious "Yes". He would invariably answer, "Is the Pope Catholic?" or "Was Attila The Hun naughty?" or "Does the bear shit in the woods?"
One day Kay, thinking she could also be cute, answered, "Does the Pope poop on the pulpit?"
Another time Bode asked Kay to call the hardware store to see if they had the size of "steel drill bits" he needed. Kay asked them if they had "Strill dill bites"!
A malaphor is a merging of two aphorisms, idioms, or cliches; a blend of the words malapropism and metaphor. The word "malaphor" was coined by Lawrence Harrison in his 1976 Washington Post article Searching For Metaphors. one example: "That's just the way the cookie bounces." Look at some of these funny, silly, and absurd examples of malaphors which is also known as "idiom blend": "We'll burn that bridge when we get to it." "You hit the nail right on the nose.", a blend of "You hit the nail right on the head" and "That's right on the nose." "She really stuck her neck out on a limb." ("stuck neck out/went out on a limb) "I can't make these split minute decisions." (split-second/last-minute)
For my birthday I usually have one of two cakes: either my mother's recipe for Coconut Cake or a Strawberry Whipped Cream Cake; four years ago, I served both; last year was the coconut cake; this year the Strawberry Whipped Cream Cake is planned. My brother Les made the piece de resistance in the photograph below:
Christy Cooper, a woman who worked for me, first made the Strawberry Whipped Cream Cake in 1997 for my birthday and people were literally licking the cake plate.
Christy had a thriving business making cakes; however, I was surprised to learn she used cake mixes.
STRAWBERRY WHIPPED CREAM CAKE RECIPE
THE CAKE
Preheat oven to 325 degrees
1 10-inch cake pan, greased and floured
1 Duncan Hines white cake mix
1/4 cup flour
3 egg whites
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1/4 cup Crisco oil
1 1/3 cups water
Mix together, using package directions. Bake at 325 degrees for 50-60 minutes until done (springs back to touch, toothpick inserted comes out clean; cake comes away clean from pan)
FILLING/ICING
1 quart + 1/2 pint heavy whipping cream
8 tablespoons powdered sugar
8 tablespoons piping gel (Christy used clear; Les uses red to make it pink)
2 teaspoons clear vanilla
Beat whipping cream and sugar together until it forms a soft peak. Add piping gel and vanilla. Beat until a soft peak.
Divide into two portions.
To one portion add 4 cups of fresh, sliced, strawberries.
Slice cake in the center and place on cake plate. Spread strawberry cream mixture on the cake.
Place other layer on top. Spread remainder of whipped cream icing on the top and sides of cake.
Refrigerate before and after serving.
TIP from my mother: Put mixing bowl, beaters and spatula in freezer an hour prior to making the whipped cream, especially in hot and humid times; it helps to keep the whipped cream firm.
I seldom check the names of the "mutual friends" on the postings of other "Facebook friends". Today, I answered my doorbell and standing there was a friend whom I hadn't seen in more than a year. She handed a gift bag to me and said, "Happy early birthday." I said, "How did you know?" She said, "You're my Facebook friend." There was a book inside the bag--Wonder Girl: The Magnificent and Sporting Life of Babe Dedrickson Zaharias. Stunned, I asked, "How on earth did you know I would like this?" She replied, "Well, DUH! You wrote about it!" I said, "But I didn't write about it on Facebook or my blog."She answered, "You commented on our mutual friend's page that Babe would have been treated the same way as Serena if the internet had been around when she was a star!"
I said, "WOW! This is wonderful! You shouldn't have done this." She answered, "I got it at The Dollar Tree for a buck and besides, you've always been generous to me and I remember you wrote about how your friend and you like to brag about how cheap you've gotten something!"
In yesterday's blog article I referenced my recalling the clock number of a worker. Read this Sue's News article from 2013:
A good memory is sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse.
Awhile back, Gerald and I were shopping and I saw one of my former workers and the worker yelled, "Suzy Jo!" I responded, "Ronnie Jo!" Of course my name is not "Jo" and neither is Ronnie's. It was from an old "inside" joke from work because we had had a woman named "Jo" come into the department and Ronnie had to train her to take his place. She was given three days to learn the job but she could not grasp the sequence of elements of the job. The second day, Jo brought a piece of chalk and tried to mark the panel to show the sequence but the chalk rubbed off; next, she returned from break with a piece of cardboard and took string and attached it to the control panel and had written down the sequence but each time she would forget to weld or forget to push the buttons in the correct sequence. Ronnie would have to run and catch up her errors.
On the third day Ronnie told Jo just to stand there and let me disqualify her. She said, "No, I can learn this job." I thought, "Oh, Hell, I don't want another fight about a disqualification!" Ronnie put in a call for the Steward and said, "My three days of Hell must end!" After talking to Ronnie, the Steward came to me and I told him he needed to talk to Jo to accept the disqualification. The Steward replied, "You know I have to represent her too; it'll just look like he wants to stay in the Department and you're favoring him." I took out my documentation to show him that she had made absolutely no progress in learning the job and it was my judgment and not Ronnie's. With fifteen minutes left on the shift, I called the Steward back and disqualified Jo, and fortunately, she did not fight it.
After that, if anyone in the crew made a mistake, he was immediately branded "JO"! There was David Jo, Roger Jo, etc.
That day at the Mall, Ronnie started to introduce me to his wife and I said, "It's Judy, isn't it?" Ronnie let out a joyful yelp and said, "Tell her my clock number!" I said, "14399." I continued, "Your wedding anniversary is June 19." Judy asked, "Oh, my God! How do you know that?" I said, "Well, that's OUR wedding anniversary too!" Ronnie said, "I told Judy you never forget anything!" I said, "I can't remember logarithms but I can remember clock numbers." It also helped that Ronnie was one of my all-time favorite workers and I would be more inclined to recall things about him.
Gerald was standing by, very amused, and he told them the reason he married me was because I could keep all of his nieces and nephews names straight!
Later, telling this story at home, Les remarked, "You're lucky he was STILL married to the same woman!"
At a local gathering, an esteemed local doctor, who is retired, was "holding court", and he was being greeted by numerous people. One woman asked, excitedly, "Don't you remember me? You delivered my baby!" The elderly doctor was gracious and responded that he did remember. I was standing beside her and I couldn't help myself; I laughed, and the woman said, "What's funny?" I answered, "I'm going to ask him how many babies he delivered. I'm sure he remembers all of them." She obviously detected my sarcasm and said, "Well, I was pretty special."
Later in the day, I was at another event and a man came up to me and said, "Hey, Sue, how's it going?" I said, "Great; how are YOU doing?" He asked, "Don't you remember me?" In the past, I would probably have pretended to remember the person, or struggled to recall him while continuing conversing, but NOT today! Instead, resorting to my old friend--humor--I answered, "Give me a hint; I'm a lot older than you!" He laughed and said a number, "12911." I screamed with delight and said, "Donnie!" and he and I hugged. He said, "I knew you'd remember my clock number!" Listen to Ella sing I've Got Your Number:
Gerald received several restaurant gift cards as birthday presents. As I was making the menu for dinners this week, I mentioned that I was free one evening. I asked, "Do you want to go to Streetside 62, Red Lobster, or El Canon?"
Les asked, "Are HIS gift cards burning holes in your PALATE?" I do love a good pun!
On June 14, 1777, the Continental Congress adopted the Stars and Stripes as the official flag of the United States of America. On June 14, 1885, Bernard J. Cigrand, a nineteen-year-old teacher at Stony Hill School, placed a 10-inch, 38-star flag in a bottle on his desk and then assigned the class to write essays about the flag and its significance. Thus began Cigrand's long years of fervent and devoted effort to bring about the national observance of Flag Day. The crowning achievement of Cigrand's life came at the age of fifty when President Wilson issued a proclamation calling for a national observance of Flag Day. In 1948, President Truman signed into law an act of Congress designating the 14th day of June-every year--as National Flag Day.
When planning vacations, here's our deal: if I want to visit an art museum, then we must also schedule a car museum visit. Several years ago, I wanted to go to the Toledo Art Museum because I had learned there was a Corot I had not seen. Gerald wanted to go to the Auburn/Cord/Duesenberg Museum in Auburn, Indiana. Fortunately, Toledo and Auburn are close.
In Toledo, after touring the museum, we had delightful dining at Tony Packo's Cafe.
In Indiana, we had an enjoyable tour at the Auburn/Cord/Duesenberg Museum; I learned that the "It's a doozy" saying stems from the reaction to the beautiful Duesenberg car in the 1930s!
When we went to the Toledo museum, Gerald was thrilled to see a work by Frank Stella titled Lac Laronge 4. He bought a print of the painting which cost $24.99. The print measured 38.5 inches X 26.5 inches. He was outraged by the cost of the frames listed at the museum and "harrumphed" that he could get one cheaper "around home" but when he shopped for frames around home, he couldn't find a "ready-made" frame in the size needed. The largest ready-made frames were 36". He went to Michael's and other places to get estimates for having a frame made. The cheapest estimate was $199.00. I had had frames custom-made for my Corot prints and they were made of cherry wood. Gerald asked, "How MUCH did those cost?" I told him I couldn't remember because I'd had them made in the 1970s.
Thus, his Stella print stood, rolled up, in a corner of the bedroom for several years. One day, at his niece Gina's home for a picnic, I admired the frame on a huge picture in her living room. She asked, "Would you like to have that picture?" I protested that I couldn't take the picture. She continued, "Jason brought it home from work and since we didn't have anything to hang over the couch, I put it there, but I hate it." Knowing that she liked Monet, I countered with, "What if I find you a Monet print to go there?" She said that I didn't need to do that.
I called Gerald in from outside and said, "Gina says we can have this god-awful painting." He looked bewildered and I said, "The frame--the frame!" (I admit I said it with a lame Herve Villechaize imitation)
For less than $100.00 I was able to purchase TWO Monet prints already in decent frames to put on Gina's wall and Gerald got the frame from Gina for his Stella print. The Stella print now graces our family room wall. I HATE the print, but Gerald LOVES it, so that is all that matters, since every other art work in the house is my choice. We have nicknamed the print "It's A Doozy"!
The original of the painting, from Stella's Saskatchewan Series, sold at Sotheby's for $800,000 in 2007.
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My ONLY Herve Villechaize joke: Herve Villechaize wanted to do something philanthropic and he came up with an idea to make resort hotels to cater to other little people. Everything in the hotels would be scaled-to-size for little people and the best thing would be that the the little people could vacation there free-of-charge.
In the 1970s I volunteered for the Suicide Prevention Hotline. I received eight weeks of training and after completing the training, I was interviewed by the psychiatrist Dr. Marx before being allowed to deal with actual people. When I met Dr. Marx, after our introductions, I asked if he were related to Zeppo or Karl. He laughed and said, "That was good; people usually ask if I'm related to Groucho." I laughed and said, "Too common!" Dr. Marx said, "I hear that you are uncommon!" I told him I liked to think so.
Dr. Marx asked me a great number of questions, with standard ones such as why I would like to be a volunteer [I learned later that the Hotline sometimes attracted troubled people to be volunteers). Dr. Marx was sitting on the edge of his chair, looking in my eyes very intently and then he asked, "What's the worst thing anybody could ever say about you?" I didn't hesitate a moment and said, "If someone said I were lazy!" Dr. Marx almost fell off the edge of his chair, but put his hand flat on the floor to prevent his fall. He was laughing. I asked why it was amusing and he said, "I've been a psychiatrist for 20 years and I've asked that question of hundreds of women, but I never heard that answer before!" I asked what women usually said and he answered that they would be upset if someone said they were a slut or other terms such as that. I said, "Oh, that's sex--that's so unimportant!"
A volunteer was supposed to work only one year because of burn-out. When my assignment was nearly over, Dr. Marx called me to his office and told me what a wonderful job I'd done and he asked if I could stay another term. I asked, "Couldn't you get anybody else?" He said, "You see, I should have just told you the truth instead of trying blandishments." I said, "You had me at blandishments!"
The most interesting case I had: I was working second shift; my session at the Hotline was after work between 12:00 AM and 4:00 AM; most suicides happen after 12:00 midnight. One night I answered the phone and after a few minutes of discussion I realized that I actually KNEW the person I was talking to and that he worked in my department. There was nobody else available to serve him; I had to deal with the awkward situation. Fortunately, I did not have him work for me directly, so I was able to manage the situation. I alerted my leader about the situation. The following night he called again and asked to talk to the "nice lady" but he was told I wasn't there. Of course at work I couldn't betray his confidence but I sure watched out for his behavior.
The Irish call the obituary section of the newspaper "The Irish Sports Page".
I am looking forward to reading Carl Reiner's new book Too Busy To Die. Ienjoyed Reiner's HBO special If You're Not In The Obit, Eat Breakfast where he conducted conversations with Mel Brooks and Norman Lear about aging, and interviewed fellow nonagenarians Dick Van Dyke, Stan Lee, Betty White, Tony Bennett, and other not-so-famous people such as Henriette Thompson, who at 93, is the oldest woman to have run and completed a marathon; Ida Kelly (101), who works out daily; Tao Porchon-Lynch (98), a yoga teacher who marched with Gandhi in the 1940s; and Jim Martin (95), a D-Day veteran, who still parachutes. He also interviewed two 101-year-olds: Kirk Douglas and Patricia Morison. I have been a fan of Reiner since his appearances on The Dick Van Dyke Show. I treasure his recordings of The 2,000 Year Old Man with Mel Brooks. To this day, my brother Les and I still do shtick from those recordings from the 1960s and 1970s. We wore out the vinyl records and replaced them with CDs. I have numerous tapes of their television appearances portraying the character.
In yesterday's posting, I wrote about a woman who is a bigot. She and I are members of a club which meets monthly. Just once, I wish that a bigot would admit to being a bigot! During a meeting in 2015, we were discussing the Obergfell v. Hodges Supreme Court decision, and the bigot said, "I believe in Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." I wondered to myself, "Does she think that is original or clever?" but instead I said, "The last person who said that was a bigot too!" She exclaimed, "I'm NOT a bigot." Another club member said, "But, of course you are!" She said, "It's against the Bible." I said, "So, you follow ALL the stuff in Leviticus?" She said, "I try to!" I pointed to her outfit and said, "Then you should be stoned to death for wearing those mixed fabrics!" She looked stunned. I said, "Perhaps you should re-read Leviticus!" At a meeting earlier this year we were discussing movies and I said that I had just watched Loving. She said she didn't know about it. When I told about the landmark Supreme Court decision which outlawed miscegenation she said that she didn't know that word. When I told her the meaning, she said, "I'm not prejudiced, but I don't believe in people marrying outside their own race." I answered, "But, of course, you ARE prejudiced." She seemed shocked that I had said that. She said that it was against the Bible. I asked, "So, you believe in the Bible?" She answered, "Of course I do!" I asked, "Do you believe the story of Noah?" She answered, "Of course." I said, "But the story of Noah teaches that we are ALL from ONE family." She said that the story meant that WE are descended from Noah. I asked, "WE? Then everybody would be a Jew." "No, they'd be Christians." I asked, "How could they be Christians when Jesus hadn't been born in Noah's time?" She answered, "Jesus comes from that line." I said, "Well, interestingly, He comes from Joseph's genealogy, not Mary's." She screamed at me, "What does THAT mean?" I answered, "IF you believe, then you must believe that Noah sent one of his kids to the East and that's where Asians come from and he sent another to the South and that's where blacks come from and you know they all had to find MATES!" Les quipped, "You know when somebody starts by saying, 'I'm not prejudiced, BUT......', she's guilty as Hell."
Today, at a community gathering, a woman of my acquaintance sat down at the table where I was sitting with a friend of mine. I know that the woman is a bigot because I have heard her say some egregious statements. I saw another woman with whom I had worked in the 1970s and I said to my friend, "Oh, I must see her." The bigot said, "We used to go to school together.", and she got up and followed me. The former co-worker and I embraced and I told her that I had stopped by her house recently to ask her to sign a petition. She said, "Oh, it was YOU; my husband couldn't remember your name but he said you told him we'd worked together." We chatted awhile, reminiscing. The bigot asked, "Do you remember me? We went to school together." My co-worker said that she did. The bigot began fawning over her and knowing full well how she truly felt about people of my co-worker's ethnic background, I was disgusted. I returned to the table to join my friend, and the bigot followed. The bigot said, "She don't look any different." I replied, "Do you mean she DOESN'T look any different?" She said, "That's what I said." I said, "No, you said, 'she don't'." Later, my friend chastised me for the not-even-subtle correction of the bigot's grammar. I told my friend that the woman was a reprehensible bigot and I said, "I was irritated with her phony fawning and complimenting, acting as if they were BFFs in school."
My friend screaked with laughter and said, "OMG, Sue Raypole just said BFFs; I can't wait to report that to your cliche society!"
I groaned and said, "Yeah, I was petty, picking on her grammar, rather than for what really pissed me off!"
My mother's maiden name was Cox. My Grandmother Cox would proudly say that her FIRST vote was for James M. Cox. It was a family joke that James M. Cox was her "Uncle Jim", although we all knew there was really NO family connection.
James Middleton Cox was a teacher who became a successful businessman and founded Cox Enterprises which included newspapers and radio stations, along with other publications, including The Kelly Blue Book, and in later years, television stations.After a successful business career Cox was elected to two terms as a U.S. Representative, served three terms as Ohio's Governor, and in 1920 ran as the Democratic nominee for President, with Franklin Delano Roosevelt as his running mate; unfortunately, he was defeated by fellow Ohioan Warren Harding. As Governor, Cox was a crusading progressive reformer, as he supported women's suffrage, restricted child labor, implemented education and prison reform, minimum wage, no-fault workers compensation, direct primaries, initiatives, and referendums, home rule, improved the state court system, Civil Service, highway systems, and opposed the attempted Constitutional amendment to install "right to work". Interesting historical trivia: of the four candidates for President and Vice President in 1920, THREE did become President (Harding, Coolidge, and Roosevelt). Most historians concur the "the better man lost" in the election of 1920 as Cox was demonstrably more qualified in experience, intellect, and morality, than Harding. My mother's first vote was for FDR. She adored FDR and my father detested him. My father and his family were die-hard Republicans. My mother would tell the story of how Grandmother Shirkey told her that she would "watch the children" if Mother would go to vote for "our Mr. Bricker". John Bricker was a native of Mount Sterling, where my grandparents had lived, and they knew Bricker personally. Mother said that she told her mother-in-law that she would be going to vote, BUT , "For MY Mr. DiSalle." Granny responded, "But he's one of those Italians, isn't he?" (she pronounced it as "Eye-talian", much to my mother's amusement, as my grandmother would brag to my mother that she had been a teacher before she married and reminded my mother that she had not completed high school). Despite my mother's vote, Mr. Bricker won that election against Mr. DiSalle, but in 1958, my all-time hero Stephen Young, won the election against the Bricker. Granny died in 1957. I told Mother, "Granny would turn over in her grave to know HER Mr. Bricker was finally defeated!" Bricker had supposedly been "unbeatable", according to the "experts" at the time. Actually, John W. Bricker was a very interesting and influential political figure who had been elected the Attorney General, Governor, and Senator of Ohio, and in 1944, he was chosen as the Vice Presidential candidate with Thomas Dewey, but Mother would never forgive Bricker for saying that FDR was a "front for the Communist Party".
Recently, Martha Raddatz, in reporting about the "Trump/CNN Brawl", used the word "GIF" to describe the phony addition of the CNN logo in the staged wrestling "brawl". I asked Les if he'd heard the word used before and he answered, "I think it's an acronym but I don't know what it stands for, but I've heard it pronounced with both 'g' and 'j' sounds." In researching, I learned that GIF stands for GRAPHIC INTERCHANGE FORMAT. Merriam-Webster definition: "noun; a computer file format for the compression and storage of visual digital information; also, an image or video stored in this format. First known usage: 1987." See the definition from the
GIFs are image files that are compressed to reduce transfer times. The creators of the format, Bob Berry and Steve Wilhite, claim that the soft 'g' sound is correct. One said, "Choosy programmers choose GIF, a play on the peanut butter commercials where 'Choosy moms choose JIF' is used."
I wish I could locate a copy of my all-time favorite cartoon, which I recall seeing in the 1970s. In the picture, a sow, lying with a farrow of suckling piglets, has a look of disgust on her face as the caption shows her uttering, "P.T. BARNUM WAS RIGHT!"
Today is the birthday anniversary of P.T. Barnum, who was born in 1810. Phineas Taylor Barnum was not only the co-founder of the Barnum and Bailey Circus, which is shutting down this year, but was also a brilliant businessman, creative showman, and also a politician, but he is most remembered for promoting celebrated hoaxes. Along with his most famous quote, he also said: "Every cloud has a silver lining." "The noblest art is that of making others happy." "Without promotion, something terrible happens...nothing!" "Money is, in some respects, life's fire; it is a very excellent servant, but a terrible master."
In a letter from John Adams to Abigail Adams on July 3, 1776, he wrote how we should celebrate Independence Day: "I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires, and Illuminations from one end of this Continent to the other from this time forward forever more. You will think me transported with Enthusiasm, which I am not. I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet, through all the Gloom, I see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I see that the End is more than worth the Means and that Posterity will triumph in that Day's Transaction, even altho we should rue it, which I trust in God we shall not."
One of my friends, a teacher, sends The Teacher's Corner to me because it shows interesting daily events. She asked, "Why do you think that July 3 would be the first day of the Dog Days of Summer when it's usually hotter in August?
In researching, I learned that the phrase has nothing to do with dogs lolling about in sweltering heat. To the Romans, the "dog days" occurred around the day when Siriusappeared to rise above the sun, and coincidentally, that usually happened in early July. Translated from Latin--dies caniculares--means "puppy days", thus the term "dog days".
The illustration from The National Geographic showed thatthe Greeks believed that the constellation Canis Major depicts a dog chasing a hare. The star Sirius represents the dog's nose and Lepus represents the hare.
During the American Revolution, the legal separation of the Thirteen Colonies from Great Britain occurred on July 2, 1776, when the Second Continental Congress voted to approve a resolution of independence that had been proposed in June by Richard Henry Lee of Virginia. The resolution stated: "These United Colonies are & of right ought to be Free & Independent States." After voting for independence, Congress turned its attention to the Declaration of Independence, a statement explaining this decision, which had been prepared by a Committee of Five, with Thomas Jefferson as its principal author. Congress debated and revised the Declaration, finally approving it on July 4. On July 2, 1964, President Lyndon Johnson signed The Civil Rights Act of 1964 into the law of the land. The photograph below depicts President Johnson handing a pen from the ceremony to the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr.
One of our "green-minded" young acquaintances shamed us into buying some CFL bulbs. Being skeptics, Les marked each one as Gerald replaced them, and one bulb, in a family room lamp, which burns continuously, has lasted more than a year. That was encouraging and I bought more. Recently, the young visitor was dismayed that we had not changed all the bulbs. As we were looking at one of the chandeliers, I said, "It's a matter of PRESENTATION VERSUS PRINCIPLE!" Gerald then did his imitation of my crying crocodile tears while proclaiming, "I don't want ugly bulbs in the chandeliers!"
The young whippersnapper sighed and said, "I guess it's hard for old people to change!" I asked, "Change? That's the problem; we have changed TOO much and people of your generation just want to throw away and get more instead of reusing and recycling."
I then launched into a lecture: "Let me tell you about conservation and recycling!" I told him that when I was his age we had no choice--we had to reuse and recycle--we returned milk bottles, pop bottles and beer bottles to the stores for redemption. We had to walk up steps because we had no escalators or elevators in our schools and stores. We had to ride a school bus because our parents didn't buy us cars or have mothers as a taxi service. We didn't have $300 tennis shoes. We had TV, but not one in every room and we had to share the one telephone; nobody had their own "personal" phone. When we mailed a package, we used crumpled newspapers for cushioning, not Styrofoam or bubble wrap. The boys had to use a push mower run by human power. We had no allowances but had to work menial jobs to have any spending money. We got plenty of exercise and didn't need to join a health club or waste electricity using a treadmill at home. We drank from a water fountain and did not have plastic bottles with custom water! They used matches to light cigarettes instead of "disposable" ones; they refilled their pens and replaced razor blades instead of throwing away the whole thing.
We received a "free" Christmas tree with a load of coal. Mother had only cloth diapers; she didn't fill landfills with the indestructible kind. She made clothes using a treadle Singer sewing machine and we wore hand-me-downs, and in my case, "hand-me-ups"; we wore darned socks and patched clothes. Meals were made "from scratch" and not from "processed" convenience foods. She would cook any wild game the boys caught except for opossum or raccoon.
Mother used newspaper and kindling to start fires in the coal heat stove. For entertainment, we played card and board games; we even read "for fun" and not because we had to for school. We had no vacations. We had no bathroom yet we were always clean. My brothers had to carry water for my mother to be able to wash clothes on Mondays. The clothes were hung outside to dry in good weather and inside during bad weather. On wash day, we always had a pot of beans and either corn bread or skillet bread to go with it. I can still remember the smell of the clothes drying inside the house, mixed with the smell of coal burning, beans cooking, and cornbread baking. My mother would pick "greens" in the spring, tend the garden in the summer and forage for raspberries, blackberries, elderberries and make pies, cakes, cobblers and jellies. My grandfather would bring tomatoes, cucumbers, corn, green beans and peppers which all needed to be "worked up". We would have hundreds of jars "put up" although most were stored under beds because of lack of space.
I can wax poetic about wilted lettuce and Kentucky Wonders but I realize how hard my mother worked to provide us with "special" things. As soon as I was able, I made sure Mother had modern conveniences such as washer and dryer, sewing machine, and freezer. I wish I didn't value my modern conveniences so much. There is no nobility in drudgery and I am happy I do not have to experience the drudgery my mother did.
