MORE TALES FROM THE ATTIC

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A CONVERSATION WITH BOB ON A WINDY, RAINY DAY!
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Bob, what a great thing for you to
Drop by to see me, on such a cold, rainy,
And blustery day!
I'm cleaning up my attic and
It's the first day of spring and the wind
And weather are really nasty; that pesky old mulberry branch,
Which I need to trim, is hitting the roof, adding its
Rhythm to the patter of the rain, now blowing in sheets
And splatting against the roof and the window.

Come on up, and talk to me awhile...
And who knows, I might have a
Snack for you!

 You know, I want to pay you a compliment,

 Knowing that with your "Junque" hobby
 Your knowledge of memorabilia...is just as vast
 As the American Pickers on TV, so...
 I feel honored and validated 
 Just showing you my stuff!

You know the problem up here is----
That everything I move, dust, stack,
Or even see---reminds me of a story...
Another little slice of by-gone life
That will never come back,
Except as my dear friend and writer Wylie says:
"In memory."

You sit over here---I promised you the
Rocking chair this time!
I'll take this old green steel folding chair.
It looks terrible but it's handy and as strong
As the day it was made. There is a twin to it
In the backyard---goodness knows where we got them,
But they won't break or rust---a sure sign that
They were long ago
"MADE IN THE USA!" (With pride!)
The way things ought to be!

Before you get settled in, I want you to see
My churn! It is the plunger kind!
It cost me seventy-five dollars at one of those
Old-fashioned hardware stores--- the hard-to-find ones.
What did I need with a churn?
Why, just look at it! Doesn't it make you
PROUD---just to be an American.
Everyone needs a churn to remind them of their roots.
Besides, I got it for a steal and
They're predicting churns will go up!

This beat-up work bench here, came out of--- all things...
A Sunday School department from a church over in Texas,
I worked there and they were hauling it away to the dump.
And I hauled it to my garage instead, but its splendid nine foot long,
Two-inch thick top was too long, so I sawed it off
To make a five foot workbench; did a bit of carpentry
And it has been with us for fifty-five years,
And will easily last another fifty-five.

You know, I've always intended to paint this bench!

Do you smell anything great? Yes, I am making us a
Pot of strong  coffee here on the workbench in this shiny
Old chrome coffee pot with the long curved spigot.
When I was single all I had was a stove top percolator,
But after marriage it was relegated to my camp box.
And we have had four or five pots since then, as styles have changed.
Don't laugh but we once went through an "instant coffee period"
In our marriage. So now this chrome baby is MY POT!

It'll be ready soon and we'll have a cup with our Beanie- Weenies.
Do you take it black? If not, I have a few of those coffee-creamer
Things I scarfed at the restaurant. The wife chews me out,
But I say: "I'm getting low on those in my little fridge in the attic,
And what if I have company and they like cream?!"

Say, I hear you went to your favorite stream and caught nineteen rainbow trout
Awhile back, on your own hand-tied flies! My, my!  Do you eat them

Or throw them back? That's got be one of the most exciting and satisfying feats---

Tying your own flies and tricking those rainbow trout 
With their innate sense of wariness and caution... and catching them.

That's impressive.

You know, I have only one trout fly;
It is a Rio Grande King.
I have never caught anything on it.
I think my sinker is too heavy.

We could talk about fishing forever...
Here's a story you will like.
My dad ran the Magic Steam Laundry
From 1938-1945, through WWII
Singlehanded, with no assistant, ever.
No vacations...no sick days...hot toddies for colds...

And you remember the many airmen at the base

With all their dirty clothes...

In August, 1945, he sold the laundry,
And instead of going cat-fishing on the Pecos,
As was his wont, he went down to Murray's
And bought a bamboo fly rod for $29.95.
(It'd be at least twenty times that now for a real bamboo.)
He was going to become...
A gentleman fisherman.

(Yes, this left the kids out---all we could do
Was reel in a catfish when someone shouted:
"You've got one!") But fly-fishing?

Off we headed, and we did fish two days at our old place
On the Pecos, and used up our bacon and orange juice.
Then we went to a beautiful spot---a little gurgling stream
Several miles out of the Tres Ritos village. Passing by
That log store in Tres Ritos, we bought a pound of bacon
And a big can of Donald Duck orange juice.
(Trust me, it WAS Donald Duck!) We put it

 In the cold stream!

Dad didn't do too well on his first foray into fly fishing.
However, an old timer, a hermit-looking guy showed Dad
How to fish with "helgramites," or something, on tiny hooks;
Dad did okay with that and caught a bunch
Ever after that, he was always careful to have some of
Those little tiny gold hooks in his tackle box.

Well, let's stop and have a snack!
Isn't it cozy up here---cold spring day
With the wind and rain and all, hitting the roof!
Here are your Beanie Weenies...I'll set them
On this TV tray---pardon it, it's a bit scratched up.
How about some potato chips Or a dill pickle?

Here, you can use my spare pork-and-bean spoon!

Is your coffee okay? Another creamer?

You have been wanting to play my little ukelele, which is
Sitting proudly up there on top of the dusty bookshelf.
Haven't you? First let me tell you the story behind it.

I went off to Hardin-Simmons University

In the fall of 1951.
My room was in old Ferguson Hall, third floor, section D.
In our area was a little short, skinny kid named "Dawson."
Don't know if it was his first or last name or even
Where he was from. But he was a nice little guy and
As the kids say: "OH MAN," he could really play the ukelele!

First thing you know, four or five of us guys on the third floor
Bought ukes and learned to play and sing: (like "Dawson")
"I'd walk for miles, cry or smile
For my momma and daddy,
I love them, I want you to kno-oh-oh-uh-ow..."

That became a great tool for me to use in my quest for...
A woman!
You see, a college boy home in the summer---who
Could serenade his date---instead of going to the movie---
That was a new twist...a rarity.

 I tried guitar later, but it had more strings, harder chords,
And the frets hurt your fingers, after awhile---

Never was good on the guitar.

(One day my youngest son took to a Yamaha guitar
That my wife used in teaching...He went around
Playing and singing "Mr.Bo Jangles,"
He made guitar playing his career! He got his Master's degree
In classical guitar. Then studied at Tulane
And became a children's guitar specialist at UNM
For the past twenty years.)

Every attic, if you check your attic photos,
Has a "dress-maker's dummy," (my wife says they're called.)

We inherited her mother's dummy.

That's it over there to the right---

A pretty good conversationalist, too,

On a quiet, dull day, up here. LOL.
Her mother was an accomplished seamstress.
Probably made more cheerleader uniforms in her life
Than we'll ever know.
She could do anything with her hands. Any craft.

She taught oil painting and her paintings sold widely.
She would take an old cowboy boot, and paint it some
Bright colors, fill it with sagebrush, or whatever,

And it became interesting decor!

See ours over there in the corner; goes good in the attic!

That long grey floor vacuum cleaner is one
That my parents bought on Reid Street, Clovis, in the forties.

It had a brush for hardwood floors. It's an Electrolux.

(All attics seem to have one!)
It would work, I think, if I'd get a new cord for it.
And a new hose and attachments.

We keep it just for atmosphere.

This is my beat-up Marine K-Bar knife  here
Just sticking out of the end of my rustic bookshelf---
Looks cool, don't you think, and it really can't hurt
This knocked-together old bookshelf.
It's where I keep a lot of books and
WWII memorabilia.

I use this knife for all manner of jobs,
Even for planting tomatoes....
No wonder it has  been so favored by all our marines  through
All the wars, since the BIG ONE.

This K-Bar knife reminds me of stories---
From the Viet Nam war, "Wings of the Eagle,"
By W.T. Grant, is a priceless book. I've read it
Three times. Here's my copy, in the shelf.

Grant was a helicopter pilot, who was assigned
The dangerous missions of landing LRRPS
Behind enemy lines, and when it got hot for them---
Going in with his copter and recovering them under intense fire.

He needed a knife---he had lost his...
And one day, noticed a rusty old K-Bar sticking
Out of a sandbag in his copter revetment.
He inquired about it from his copter's chief mechanic,
Took it to his dugout, sanded it, filed it, oiled it,
And sharpened it. He had a holster made for it
In the village and carried it through the war.

His famous side-kick and fellow copter pilot, "THE DAVE,"
(His own sobriquet for himself)
A truly courageous man and one you'll never forget,
Risked his life many times to snatch the LRRPS out
Of incredibly overwhelming situations, under heavy enemy fire.
He'd say: "THE DAVE will get them out, if anybody can!"

"THE DAVE" didn't make it home.
His name is on the wall in Washington.
Another incredibly brave American, that
Gave everything for freedom and the CONSTITUTION.

That K-Bar knife sticking out of my old bookshelf
Also reminds me of another great American...
This time, a Marine, from WWII.
He was Eugene B. Sledge, a young man from the South
Who wrote "With the Old Breed on Peleliu and Okinawa."
Here's his book here, right by the knife. It is considered
To be a classic in stories of battle, and is still in print.

Sledge lived until 2003.
He could never forget those intense battles fought

By the marines in the closing months of WWII.
He earned a PhD. from a Florida University.

I believe Ken Burns interviewed him very early on
In his WWII documentary preparation,

But Sledge does not appear on screen.

Bob, you were kind of thought of as the expert
Model airplane builder of our old neighborhood.
Look over here, hanging from the ceiling!
Remember my P-51 MUSTANG, that I made in '45!
A little battle worn or age worn, right?

Appropriate, maybe.

While we're reminiscing about our men
Who have fought for our country,
We need to remember the airplane pilots.

This P-51 Mustang plane was an important
Asset in the final year of the war in Europe.
It was the big factor in reducing bomber losses
To "acceptable" levels, due to the fact that
It had a speed edge over anything the Nazis had,
Particularly at altitude; and it was a long range plane.

This excellence came about, because
When the British first received it,
They substituted  their famous Rolls-Royce engine for the
American engine...And thus a great plane was born!
The US then began turning out P-51's with Packard engines,
Licensed copies of the Rolls Royces.

 I think it's only fitting, now and then
For us Americans to remember these things from history
And our boys! I often read and think about them...
A friend of mine...a retired marine

Said to me last year---
"You know, it's not very popular to teach, talk about,
 Or remember WWII anymore, in our country."

I have many times thought of what he said.
Do we realize that if everything hadn't gone just right,
In that war, that cost seventy million lives,,
We might not live in a free world.

I am reminded of what the Duke of Wellington said,
After his army had narrowly defeated Napoleon
At the Battle of Waterloo, 1815---
"IT WAS A DAMN CLOSE-RUN THING!"

Hey Bob, don't go yet. Let me call downstairs on
My new smart phone, and see if the wife will
Being us each a slug of chocolate cake
To go with our coffee!

Do you need some more creamer?

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BY MIL
3/23/13




Sent from my iPad

"THE STUFF IN MY ATTIC"

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"Country Boy Bob," as he likes to be called,
is a brilliant retired businessman who is an
expert in "JUNQUE," and dabbles in it as a hobby!
He is a friend of seventy-three years and is visiting
me in my attic to admire my "stuff."

"Come on up the stairs, Bob, watch your step. I
hate stairs, don't you? Come on in, have a seat
over there." My readers, please join us.
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"All y'all, come set a spell
With me 'n Bob.
And we'll walk down MEMORY LANE
A ways...
We're gonna do a right smart
Of remembering!"

How do you like my attic?
I know---it is full of junk,
Tho' it's pretty clean and neat
Doncha' think?!

It is all fixed up for storage
With those shelves I nailed together---
(You see, I once took "shop.")
Yes, there are boxes and stacks
Everywhere.

It is also fixed up to be a nice quiet
Guest room, or escape for someone
Who wants to read, meditate, or watch
The awful tube!
The old RCA color TV is vintage 1978
And works fine with that Comcast box.

That  is a pretty good army-surplus
Olive drab, steel-frame single bed;
Yes, it looks inviting with that nice
Colored-squares quilt spread over it!

At the foot of the bed, you'll see
Folded nicely my son's "letter-blanket"
And one of his letter-jackets---
Both say UNM in big letters.
He was the field-goal kicker
For UNM '77, '78, and '79.

Alan Moore, UNM Lobos

Placekicker, '77, '78, '79

On the wall, you'll see a giant
Photo of him kicking off.
He was left-footed and was
One of the last "straight-on"
Kickers. his kickoffs often
Went through the uprights.

There on the wall, you'll
See my younger son in
A large photo...playing his
Classical guitar; with a Master
In classical guitar, he has taught
Children for twenty years at UNM,
And is well-known in this area.

This old rocking chair I'm sitting in
We bought early in our marriage
For one hundred dollars, and
Paid it off at eight dollars a month!
It is my favorite chair and is still
Like new.

I read up here a lot, and must have
A floor lamp to read by. I've always
Had one.
My first landlord gave me this one.
One bulb doesn't work.

Don't you think the school pennants
On the wall add atmosphere to the attic?
There's my old HSU pennant
And a couple of UNM pennants
That belong to the kids.

Without the reading light, the light
In here is superb! It's good light
Coming in the window in such a
Gentle way. I like to sit over there
By the window...and sometimes just
Ponder things.

You know, behind every item in this attic
Is a story...
The story of people's stuff, I guess...
Is the story of their lives.

Over there in the shelf are my
"Dave Dawson In the R..A.F." books,
My Hardy Boy mysteries, and my Tarzan books.
There are two rows of Reader's Digest condensed books---
Sixty years old---do people read those anymore?
That big stack of magazines up there on top

 Are old LIFE magazines---ones with important stories.

My Airline shelf radio you see
Was gift from my uncle, when I graduated
From Clovis High School in 1951.
It is an old-fashion tube radio
That I bought at Montgomery Wards.

See that tan hard-side piece of Samsonite
Luggage, with the HSU decal on the side---
It was brand new when I went off to college.
It cost me thirty-five dollars---a whole week's pay,
And I bought it at Ward's also. (I miss Ward's, don't you?)

You like fishing stuff---see those Ferralite rods
Over in the corner---they don't make 'em anymore!
With their "plastic" ferrules, they were so flexible,
You could throw a small spoon fifty yards it seemed.
They would whip a lure out there  deep where
The big fish lurked!

This old beat-up minnow bucket was Dad's
And we filled it up many times when headed
Up on the Pecos to fish...back in WWII times.

 I'll bet they don't even make minnow buckets anymore!

See that old lantern; it is a coal oil lantern---
That was for making camp on the Pecos!

No attic is complete without a children's rocking horse!
Ours raised two boys, along with that old baby bed
You see over there in the corner. We got it used in 1958
And raised two sons in it. Nita, who sold it to us, said:
"You can have it for $15.00" I'll never need it again.
I HOPE."

Many's the Saturday morning when we were trying
To sleep late when we were awakened by a
Wide-awake, energetic, happy, bright-eyed

 Fourteeen-month-old boy, standing up,

Shaking and rattling his bed, and jabbering away.
(This happened with two boys!)

Do you like to read the National Geographic?
You can see we're overstocked on those!!!

 I've got all the amenities up here...

 Did you notice my little fridge---it's from my office.

 I keep it stocked with diet Pepsis, Sprite Zeros,

 Cold V-8's, and cold apples!

 That handy barometer on the wall gives atmosphere

 And helps predict storms!

 
Up there in the shelf you see many, many
Songbooks and hymnals. Yes, I collect them.
There are some Stamps-Baxter song books among them.
I cut my teeth on those Stamps books.

That big green song book over there in the corner---
"Great American Songs;" it is full of Stephen Foster's
And a lot of other favorites. For fifty years in Albuquerque
We carried it to parties, dinners, and "sangins,"
People signed it every time it was a singing party---
Now we don't carry it around much...
They're mostly...
All gone.

The little table ..with the wooden lamp---I made
Both of those in wood-shop in Clovis Junior High,
Under our beloved Mr. Virgil Elms. God bless him.
Lying on that table is my somewhat beat-up
Boy Scout knife, purchased there at Clovis
At J.C. Penney's.

The faded red bandana lying under the knife
Is from Boy Scout Troop # 14,
Central Baptist Church, Leon Williams, Scoutmaster,
And Bud Cagle, assistant.
We met on Tuesdays at 7 p.m.

See that old deck of playing cards, there on
My shop table...
You'll never believe this one:
Once my dear friend, Levi and I (circa 1950)
Snuck off in his car one Friday afternoon
To see some girls down in Artesia.
On the way down, we stopped at that store
Fifty miles north of Roswell,
In Elkins, N.M. for a coke...
And I bought those cards!
They're about worn out.

 There's an interesting story about Elkins.

 One day in 1969, while traveling the state

 I was passing through Elkins. 

 ("Greater Elkins" is only one store.)

 I noticed an old leanng windmill, out in the pasture,

 A quarter mile behind the store. I had to get a picture.

 I put a red filter on my camera, to make the sky dark

 And bring out the clouds (they were streaky),

 I drove down a side road, walked out and shot

 Five or six pictures. I printed the best one, 

 And called it "Leaning Windmill and Painted Sky."

 That's it on the wall behind you.

 That photo has won several first place awards.

(Today, I believe the old windmill is gone.)

"Leaning Windmill and Painted Sky"

Elkins, NM, 1969

Photo by Mil

What'd I say about stories?!

I notice you were eyeing that old

Chapped-looking worn-out basketball---
That's the one that we shot all time
At your alley basketball goal.
All that dusty dirt, rocks, nails out there
Were very hard on my basketball!

That old football you see, with the worn-out
Ends---it went up and down Reid Street
Between 11th and 12th Streets, many times
When we played "AMERICA."

There's my old baseball glove---they weren't
Too fancy in those days, were they?

How did I ever catch anything with it?

And I came out of childhood with those five
Black baseballs you see.
Okay, so they are all wrapped in
Friction tape. There was no electrical tape...
Then.

See my Jack Holt shoe stool which you gave me---
Over there in the corner.
I must've sat on that stool dozens of times
Back in '49-'55, during high school and summers...
Selling Crosby Square and Nettleton shoes.
Mr. Holt had two stools in the  shoe department,
And you bought one at a sale and gave it to me
For old time's sake! Thanks so much. That was nice!

That January, 1923 calendar on the wall,
I saw it in a deserted farm house kitchen
And liberated it.  What was life like in
January of 1923?!

Yes, there's all the usual attic stuff in here---
Puzzles, Monopoly, checkers, Parchesi,
My old Lincoln logs and Tinkertoys...
And a box of 25-30 marbles, all that
Were left from playing "keeps" with you! LOL!

Those Irish Setter hunting boots were once new---
Can you believe it?
I wore them duck hunting the day after I bought them,
Waded in swampy mud.
And they have never looked the same since.

My pride and joy is that stack of vocal sheet music,
Twelve inches tall in the corner of the shelf.
There are about a hundred vocal pieces there that
I learned in four years of private voice at HSU.
There are Italian numbers, "art songs,"secular numbers,
And religious songs.

I loved to sing "On The Road To Mandalay, a Kipling poem,

And "Invictus," by William Ernest Henley.

  

There is one religious selection called "Like As A Father."
"Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth
Them that fear him.
For He knoweth our frame, He remembereth that
We are dust."

Another one that I loved was: "Eye Hath Not Seen."
"Eye hath not seen. ear hath not heard.
Neither have entered into the heart of man
The things which God hath prepared
For them that love Him."

I know I've probably worn you out
But you've been eyeballing over there on the shelf
My little AIWA CD player that I bought at K Mart.
I've got the Three Tenors on there right now,
And guess what? they are not singing all classical music---
Listen as one of them sings an,"old-timey" song
That will touch you and take you back....

"I wandered today to the hill, Maggie
To watch the scene below;
The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie,
As we used to long long ago.
The green grass is gone from the hill, Maggie,
Where first the daisies sprung...
The creaking old mill is still, Maggie,
Since you and I were young.
CHORUS:
And now we are aged and gray, Maggie,
The trials of life nearly done;
Let us sing of the days that are gone, Maggie,
When you and I were young."

 The touching line in the song is: "But to me 

 You're as fair as you were, Maggie,

 When you and I were young."

Well, Bob, this has certainly been fun,
Reliving my history with you a piece at a time!
I hope you'll drop by again sometime---
Maybe when it's raining---this attic is awesome
With the rain hitting right over your head!

Next time, I promise you can sit in the rocker,
We'll open a coupla cans of Beanie Weenies,
And get some diet Pepsis out of my little fridge there,
I'll tell you all about all the pictures on the wall---
And you can tell me about your stuff.
By the way, do you have an attic?

Oh, it will be grand to see you again!

"When You and I Were Young, Maggie"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swIip6fg2uU&feature=youtube_gdata_player

*******30*******
BY MIL
3/13/13

Sent from my iPad

WHAT EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT GRITS

What Are Grits?

Author Unknown

Nobody knows. Some folks believe grits are grown on bushes and are harvested by midgets by shaking the bushes after spreading sheets around them. Many people feel that grits are made from ground up bits of white corn.

These are obviously lies spread by Communists and terrorists. Nothing as good as Grits can be made from corn. The most recent research suggests that the mysterious Manna that God rained down upon the Israelites during their time in the Sinai Desert was most likely Grits. Critics disagree, stating that there is no record of biscuits, butter, salt, and red eye gravy raining down from the sky, and that God would not punish his people by forcing them to eat Grits without these key ingredients.

How Grits Are Formed: Grits are formed deep underground under intense heat and pressure. It takes over 1000 years to form a single Grit. Most of the world's grit mines are in the South, and are guarded day and night by armed guards and pit bull dogs. Harvesting the Grit is a dangerous occupation, and many Grit miners lose their lives each year so that Grits can continue to be served morning after morning for breakfast (not that having Grits for lunch and dinner is out of the question).

Yankees have attempted to create synthetic Grits. They call it Cream of Wheat. As far as we can tell, the key ingredients of Cream of Wheat are Elmer's Glue and shredded Styrofoam. These synthetic grits have also been shown to cause nausea, and may leave you unable to have children.

Historical Grits: As we mentioned earlier, the first known mention of Grits was by the Ancient Israelites in the Sinai Desert . After that, Grits were not heard from for another 1000 years. Experts feel that Grits were used during this time only during secret religious ceremonies, and were kept from the public due to their rarity.

The next mention of Grits was found amidst the ruins of the ancient city of Pompeii in a woman's personal diary. The woman's name was Herculaneum Jemimaneus (Aunt Jemima to her friends.)

The 10 Commandments of Grits

I. Thou shalt not put syrup on thy Grits
II. Thou shalt not eat thy Grits with a spoon or knife
III. Thou shalt not eat Cream of Wheat and call it Grits, for this is blasphemy ..
IV. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's Grits.
V. Thou shalt use only salt, butter, and red-eye gravy as toppings for thy Grits.
VI Thou shalt not eat Instant Grits.
VII. Thou shalt not put ketchup on thy Grits.
VIII. Thou shalt not put margarine on thy Grits.
IX. Thou shalt not eat toast with thy Grits, only biscuits made from scratch.
X. Thou shalt eat grits on the Sabbath for this is manna from heaven.
How to Cook Grits:  For one serving of Grits:
Boil 1.5 cups of water with salt and a little butter. [Use milk and they are creamier!)
Add 5 Tbsp of Grits.
Reduce to a simmer and allow the Grits to soak up all the water.
When a pencil stuck into the grits stands alone, it is done. That's all there is to cooking grits.

How to make red eye gravy
Fry salt cured country ham in cast iron pan. Remove the ham when done and add coffee to the gravy and simmer for several minutes. Great on grits and biscuits.

How to Eat Grits: Immediately after removing your grits from the stove top, add a generous portion of butter or red eye gravy (WARNING: Do NOT use low-fat butter.) The butter should cause the Grits to turn a wondrous shade of yellow. (Hold a banana or a yellow rain slicker next to your Grits; if the colors match, you have the correct amount of butter.)

In lieu of butter, pour a generous helping of red eye gravy on your grits. Be sure to pour enough to have some left for sopping up with your biscuits. Never, ever substitute canned or store bought biscuits for the real thing because they caused cancer, rotten teeth and impotence.

Next, add salt. (NOTICE: The correct ration of Grit to Salt is 10:1 Therefore for every 10 grits, you should have 1 grain of salt.)

Now begin eating your grits. Always use a fork, never a spoon, to eat Grits. Your grits should be thick enough so they do not run through the tines of the fork.

The correct beverages to serve with Grits is black coffee and Bloody Mary's. (DO NOT use cream or, heaven forbid, Skim Milk) Your grits should never be eaten in a bowl because Yankees will think it's cream of wheat.

Ways to Eat Leftover Grits: (Leftover grits are extremely rare)
Spread them in the bottom of a casserole dish,
Cover and place them in the refrigerator overnight.
The Grits will congeal into a gelatinous mass.
Next morning, slice the Grits into squares and fry them in 1/2" of cooking oil and butter  until they turn a golden brown.
Many people are tempted to pour syrup onto Grits served this way. This is, of course, unacceptable.

BLESSING BEFORE EATING GRITS

May the Lord bless these grits,
May no Yankee ever get the recipe,
May I eat grits every day while living,
And may I die while eating grits. AMEN

WHAT'S GRITS ANYWAY?

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"ER, IS IT SINGULAR OR PLURAL?"
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Of all the things for which we are indebted to the Old South, one of the greatest...is GRITS. ("Grits," the word can be considered singular or plural. Traditionally in the South, it's used as a singular word.)

"What's grits?" "What's grits?" Ho-Hum. I've heard that question over and over---all my life. Have we left some important training out of the lives of our kids?

The word comes from an Old English word---"gryt,"'which means coarse meal. (Grits are sometimes called "softkee," or "softkey," from an old Muskogee Indian word.

Let me tell you some stories!

Once upon a time, and it doesn't seem 50 years ago, but it was---I was in a church music position of teaching and training for the whole state of New Mexico. I decided that we needed a coed music camp for teen-agers, up in the mountains at a good facility and thus I planned the camp from scratch---the classes, the schedule, the choral music, the expert choral director, the faculty, the recreation, and probably most important of all---the menus.

I hired the cooks and bought the groceries. My hope was: "IF YOU PLAN IT, THEY WILL COME." And they did, 250 of the best musically-trained church teen-agers came (and lo, have come every year for the past fifty!) And their beautiful music in four-part harmony wafted across the mountains, praising God! All that to tell you this...

For breakfast, I planned each morning to have a big tray of scrambled eggs and a big tray of GRITS, along with toast and fruit and stuff.

First morning the kids said: "What's this cream-of-wheat stuff? Where's the sugar and cream?" Now to a true Southern grit-lover, that is just a travesty, a no-no! I said, "It's GRITS, put butter,salt, and pepper on them (I can use plural too), and kinda mix the grits in with your scrambled eggs. It's one of the best things you will ever eat!"

(Buttery grits go even better with fried eggs, but I didn't tell the kids that; we couldn't fry 500 eggs every morning!)

Did you ever see that really funny movie, "MY COUSIN VINNY," where Joe Pesci was in a little greasy spoon cafe down in Georgia, eating breakfast. Getting his egg plate, he eyed it suspiciously and said, "What is this stuff?" "Grits," replied the cafe owner. Joe looked very skeptical; he was from New York!

There are a lot of other stories I could tell you about grits. Like my five year old grandson's beautiful mother was seen putting cream and sugar on his grits---in my house---right in front of me! So much for raising a tough grandkid! (Well, I shouldn't talk---he did become a Texas All-State Honorable Mention Quarterback in 2009!)

There are a lot of uses for grits which give menus some variety. In addition to breakfast, you can have steak and grits; try a Mexican Grit Casserole with grits, cheese, and green chillies baked in long casserole dish(add an egg or two for body), and serve it with enchiladas. It is superb!

Read Mil's Place: "Mil's Gift to the World- A GRITTATA!"

I haven't Googled grit recipes, but here is one for a holiday breakfast, made up out of my head. Adjust it for best results. Mix into a long big casserole dish, a couple of cups of cooked grits, eight or ten eggs beaten, plenty of green chillies, lots of cheese, and a half pound or more of Jimmy Dean sausage, already cooked and diced. Cook this at 350 for estimated 25-35 minutes, and insert the proverbial toothpick, etc. I believe this will fly.

Reckon, this is about it for now. Let me say, I hope you'll be eating a "right smart" of grits. If they're new to you, you're gonna like 'em...and lest you consign them to ignominy, remember it's important that you have your hominy.

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BY MIL
2/02/13
Sent from my iPad

BOB: "THESE LURES AREN'T JUNQUE!"

 by Bob Snipes, Guest Writer

One Saturday I was having a sale at my Junque Store and a friend of mine dropped by to shoot the bull.   He told me of a garage sale at the north edge of town that had 3-4 tackle boxes full of fishing tackle and lures.  He said there were some good Heddon lures in the bunch.   Well, it was almost 3:00 and business slowed down about that time on Saturday afternoon and I sure wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to buy some more fishing tackle because I only had one barn full of the stuff. 

So I shut my sale down and hustled to the north part of town.  When I arrived, they had already put the stuff up but they were cordial and let me peek at the fishing stuff.  I poked through the boxes right quick and said "what would you take for the whole mess?"  He said it belonged to his Dad who had passed away and he needed to sell it all and he would take $105.00 and he would throw in 3-4 rods and reels.  Since it was his Dad's (who I knew) I didn't even try to negotiate a better price,  I just paid him, loaded the stuff up and hustled home and unloaded in the barn.  

A couple weeks later I decided to go through the tackle box, which I had not looked at real good.  I decided to pick out a couple of the Heddon lures and do a trial run on Ebay.  I knew that Heddon was a good name and I think the company went out of business around the 80s and I checked Ebay and saw some groups of Heddons selling for $25-$30. 

I took my photos, did some research, found out that one of the lures was a Heddon Chugger Junior.  That didn't mean a lot to me because I wasn't a collector and I didn't know the vintage stuff to collect.   I was just an old retired business man enjoying selling old junk.   But I was most interested in fishing stuff.   I would buy any fishing tackle, clean it up and sell it and try to make a buck or so. 

I  listed the two lures with a starting price of $9.95.   Well lo and behold, in about one hour the phone rang and this guy was asking about those Heddon Lures.  He said he wanted to buy the lures now and he would give $100.00.  My first thought was that if he offered $100.00, what were they really worth.  My next thought was why are they worth that.  Anyway, I told him I couldn't sell them before the auction ended.  He explained to me that I could by making a change on the listing before I had a bid.  He was correct, it was legal and I was glad to get the $100.00. 

But the story doesn't end there.  This man was a collector of Heddon Chugger Juniors and he had the largest collection in the world.  He explained that my lure had to have been special made.  The color was never produced, was not in any catalogue ever.  It was ONE  OF  A  KIND.  He explained that the Japanese bought nearly all of the old Heddon lures and he had to get it before they did. 

As it ended up,  this man purchased most all of the lures in those tackle boxes.  After that I kept a running total of everything I sold out of those boxes and the total was around $800.00,  thanks to the man who knew more about lures than I did. 

Bob Snipes
For Mil's Place
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I SENT MY HEART QUESTIONNAIRE TO WIENERSCHNITZEL!

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ABOUT THE TELEPHONE THING...AND CUSTOMER RELATIONS
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Several years ago a federal law was passed that solicitors couldn't just phone people at their homes trying to peddle something. You put your name on a national registry, and you were pretty nearly  guaranteed privacy!

All well and good! For awhile, anyway...Now they are getting around it someway. Is it just plain old belligerence, or what?

Now there are five or six different loud, blatant phone calls coming in to our homes, recurring over and over, every week---

(1) "The FBI wants...blah...blah..." (selling burglar alarms)
(2) "Your credit card may be in trouble"---loud raucous female voice (It couldn't be!)
(3) "Don't hang up!" I don't know what they're selling---I hang up.
(4) "You have won a cruise!" Again, I hang up. I don't think I like cruises.
(5) "This is a water survey..." My, my, are surveys of all kinds popular now!
(6) "Do you own your own home?" Well, how nice. I believe I'll just chit-chat with this stranger about my private business! Isn't it great to be a guy with people interested in you!?

Maybe someone is working in congress---or somewhere to get rid of this new spate of ever-growing phone incursions on our privacy and solitude!

Let's move on to something else. For several decades, in the USA, friendliness and courtesy among clerks, sales people, fast-food workers, waitresses (they still want their tips), medical personnel (even), and government office people have severely declined. One would almost think we are importing our workers from overseas also, like our products!  (Not to  mention that we have to phone India, Bangladesh, or Myanmar to clear up billing problems!)

In high school "Distributive Education" class, we were taught to say to customers: "May I help you?" "Did you find everything you needed?" "Is there anything else?" "Thank you, and come back to see us!"

Recently, and this is true---there was a "thank you" at one store where I traded! Yes, it was I---thanking the clerk--- who never said "boo!" This is sad, my friends.

There may be a ray of hope! There are some positive signs!

My wife and I were talking over coffee this morning, as we always do (and fooling around with our I Pads!) She noted that she was getting a lot of requests from clerks in places she traded, asking her to respond to surveys, written or phoned, telling the employer of the worker what kind of job their employee was doing. She mentioned various businesses, such as Walgreens, her Presbyterian doctor, and KFC. We like KFC's CFS on Tuesdays @ 2.29, and the personnel there are always courteous and helpful to the extreme.

(Presbyterian Health sends a questionnaire to every person treated by one of their doctors, technicians, or after hospital stays.)

It put me in mind of the old Baldridge Hardware in Albuquerque, now closed. They were so good and helpful. A rarity.  And that friendly guy at Subway! Also Appleby's has telephone surveys, to which they hope folks will respond.  The survey which I have responded to the most is Panda Express--they have a super-clean operation, and their people try their best. I respond because I like their free egg roll.

(I must tell you this. Recently, I had occasion to phone Cabella's about a faulty product.  This splendid lady with a cheerful, bright, clear voice answered and routed me to a service rep. He was so good and sharp that I thanked him profusely. He said: "Would you repeat that to my supervisor?" I did repeat my appreciation for both these representatives.)

The wife was saying, "I'm getting behind on some of these surveys---the girl at KFC asked me to be sure and answer and also the girl at Walgreen's...and here's one I need to fill out, from the doctor!" "I'm getting mixed up," she said.

"I get all these surveys too," I answered. "Got one from Presbyterian Health on that leg scan I had, and then I mistakenly sent the survey about my Presbyterian heart doctor to Wienerschnitzel!" She about died over that one, and replied through her laughter: "Just be glad you didn't send the Wienerschnitzel survey to your doctor at Presbyterian Health by mistake."

"I did," I replied!

Anyway, maybe we are making some progress...a little at a time in customer relations. And I thank you very much for reading, and hope you will come back at every opportunity!

 (Writers note: No, I didn't send as noted above. That was merely the clever use of  "LITERARY LICENSE," to maintain for you the joke I pulled on the wife/editor!)

*******30*******
BY MIL
3/01/13


Sent from my iPad

"WHERE CROSS THE CROWDED WAYS OF LIFE"

About a hundred-eight years ago, when the Methodist Hymnal of 1905 was being compiled, one of the editors of that hymnal went to Rev. Frank Mason North (1850-1935), a noted New York City Methodist minister, and asked him if he would write a "missionary" hymn for the new hymnal. Never having been a missionary or having written a hymn, North sat in his New York City office overlooking the city, and saw gigantic mission needs right there in front of himself---and thus his hymn became one about the needs of cities. "Where Cross the Crowded Ways of Life" is one of our best hymns on this subject.

The hymn was wedded to the tune "Germany," arranged by William Gardner, from what he claimed to be a Beethoven tune, though this was never verified.

The hymn, according to graphs, which trace such things, began appearing in church hymnals around the year 1950, and has continued ever since, peaking around the year 2000.

Probably not as popular to the average person in the pew as many gospel songs, nonetheless, it is a well-written hymn poetically, and a splendid supplication to God---that he continue to enter and bless our cities, with their turmoil, sin, and downtrodden humanity.

Who can ever forget the great prayer: "O Master, from the mountainside, make haste to heal these hearts of pain...O tread the cities' streets again 'til sons of men shall learn thy love."

1. Where cross the crowded ways of life, 
 where sound the cries of race and clan, 
 above the noise of selfish strife, 
 we hear your voice, O Son of man. 

2. In haunts of wretchedness and need, 
 on shadowed thresholds dark with fears,
 from paths where hide the lures of greed, 
 we catch the vision of your tears. 

3. From tender childhood's helplessness, 
 from woman's grief, man's burdened toil,
 from famished souls, from sorrow's stress, 
 your heart has never known recoil.

4. The cup of water given for you still 
 holds the freshness of your grace; 
 yet long these multitudes to view 
 the sweet compassion of your face. 

5. O Master, from the mountainside 
 make haste to heal these hearts of pain; 
 among these restless throngs abide; 
 O tread the city's streets again. 

6. Till all the world shall learn your love 
 and follow where your feet have trod, 
 till, glorious from your heaven above, 
 shall come the city of our God! 

Tune: GERMANY
Meter: L.M.   Lyrics:  Frank Mason North

    

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        BY MIL

        3/01/13

"WHERE DID YOU GET THE COWBOY?"

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THE LITTLE RANCH LADY WAS BARELY FIVE FEET TALL
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She was about ninety years old, I would guess. She was just a neat little lady---though there was something about her---I had never heard her say a word.

Usually we saw her there at the nursing home, a couple of times a week when we ate in the dining room with "Mama," my wife's mother.

Her assigned seat was at the end of our table, right across from us. I'd always speak to her but she never answered and I had never heard her say anything, so I didn't press it. There are all kinds of situations in those homes. She didn't really pay us any attention either.

She was pretty short, as older folks get, and I think she was short to start with. She seldom ate much---just kind of picked at her food in a bored, uninterested way. She had a way of kind of tilting her head over her plate, as if to see better, or maybe her neck was stiff.

She never seemed to have any family or friends around to eat with her, but there was an attendant always hovering nearby and seeing after several folks. You had to be careful not to offer too much help to people in those homes, because they all had different dietary and swallowing problems.

I had a kind of secret admiration for this little lady because we'd been told she was from an old-time ranching family down in southeastern New Mexico. She'd spent her life living on a big ranch. I was somewhat fascinated by this since I had a number of friends from that part of the state, and some of them were ranchers.

And you know, in my mind I could visualize my little ranch lady out there in the open spaces, maybe on her horse, maybe helping at the chuck wagon and tossing some pancakes during branding-time...or maybe just riding around, checking the grass, after that last rain. She may have even climbed a windmill or two in her day!

I'll bet she looked "cool" in her "size small" jeans, western shirt, and red bandana...not to mention her cowboy boots and ten gallon hat!

Nursing homes are tough places for people to wind up their lives.

That night we were eating over there seemed like any other time---our little ranch lady was eating along more or less, with her head cocked sideways, but...for some strange reason she was really "eye-balling" ME. And for some reason her eyes were VERY BRIGHT and she didn't seem to miss a motion that I made. She was certainly taking me in.

That day, I was off work and was wearing some old faded blue levis and faded denim western shirt, my western belt buckle, a big Indian turquoise bolo, and my boots.

As I was sitting there eating, I heard the little ranch lady say to my wife, the only words I had ever heard her say: "WHERE DID YOU GET THE COWBOY?"

Coming from a "ranch gal," I felt honored!

*******30*******
BY MIL
3/02/13





Sent from my iPad

DID YOU EVER OWN A BARLOW?

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"EVERY MAN NEEDS A BARLOW!"
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If there ever is to be a pocket knife selected because of  lore and literary fame, it would have to be the "Barlow!" And rightly so--it is a handy-sized, rugged, attractive, comfortable, and inexpensive little knife--and how about carrying a piece of history around in your pocket?! When I hear the words "Barlow knife," I automatically think of boyhood.... ever-active, exploring, inquisitive, into-everything, curious little boys.

After all, boys are always needing to pry something, cut something, or if bored, merely whittle (look at old-timer whittlers---we never outgrow it!) And there is always that strange knife game that little boys have heard of---mumblety--peg, the one with the nebulous/multiple spellings, and the even more obscure rules! Little boys just simplify the game---and throw their knives into the lawn!

The Barlows likely achieved some of their "boyhood knife" status due to the writings of Mark Twain. The knives are mentioned in his two most famous and popular books-- "Tom Sawyer," and "Huckleberry Finn":

Mary gave him a bran-new Barlow knife worth twelve and a half cents, and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure enough" Barlow and there was conceivable grandeur in that...  ----"THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER"

All the stores were along one street. They had white domestic awnings in front, and the country people hitched their horses to the awning posts. There was empty dry goods boxes under the awnings and loafers roosting on them all day long, whittling them with their Barlow knives; and chawing tobacco, and gaping and yawning and stretching a mighty ornery lot. ----"THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN"

To me, a Barlow exudes a whole set of mental images, coming to me from real life and from reading. This knife reminds me of a barefoot boy, on the way to the old fishing hole, carrying his cane pole and his Barlow in his pocket. Or hot summer afternoons in Clovis boys out under the shade of the elms, doing some trimming on our rubber guns. It recalls digging a fort in the ground....or whittling on a tree branch for a slingshot.

Whatever it's used for, you can bet that a boy's  Barlow is beat up--as well as dull-- and probably a bit rusted, and who knows--it may have been thrown at a lizard a time  or two! Unfortunately, knife sharpening is a skill most little boys don't have...and alas, they say a "safe kmife is a sharp knife"...I'm not so sure.

The Barlow in its beginnings was a single blade knife, the blade being two and a half to three inches long. A second shorter blade is often added today. It has always been a tough little knife, partly due to its distinguishing characteristic---it has a tough high bolster, comprising a good portion of the handle. The blade is usually of high carbon steel, easily sharpened, and the handle of bone or some durable material. It was not generally highly polished or finished but was a "last-forever" little knife of utilitarian design...and ideal for kids.

(In knife makers' parlance, the material comprising the "handle"---is called "scales." It may be composed of any one of several dozen materials, such as bone, stag, delrin, abalone, jogged bone, micarta, plastic, and even ivory.)

The  origin of the Barlow knife is a bit difficult to pin down. Various Barlows from various generations have laid claim to it, in UK and the USA. John Russell may have been the first American to manufacture Barlows. His company (now the Russell  Harrington Cutlery Company, of Southbridge, Mass.) first made Barlows in the US in 1875, though knives imported from. the UK were available much  earlier.

A number of US companies now make the Barlow-style knife: Case, Bear and Son, Boker, Roberson, Rough Rider, and others.

The knife is a perfect size for carrying and for most utility jobs; it fits handily in your jeans pocket, either front, or hip. It has a nice "heft" just to feel it there with its slight tear-drop shape. It will not weigh down a lady's purse.

Old time guides in Alaska, grizzled farmers, handymen, fixers, and others of that ilk will laugh at you, if you pull out an eight inch Bowie to do your butchering, whittling, or repair---just give a "real man" a SHARP Barlow, and he can do the job!

George Washington is said to have carried a Barlow.

*******30*******
BY MIL
1/17/13