"IT'S A SMALL WORLD"

BY ROBERT STEBBINS

**************************************************

PETTY'S BARBERSHOP REMEMBERED

**************************************************

     From 1985 until 1988, I was assigned to the U.S. Embassy in Seoul, Korea.  It was my last job before retirement from the Department of State.  In 1986, I received word that my stepfather was seriously ill in California, so I hurriedly made airline reservations to return to the U.S. as soon as possible.  The Seoul Embassy in those days was one of our largest.  And, based on the amount of travel generated by our large number of embassy personnel, Northwest Airlines almost always upgraded our tickets from coach to business class.  Northwest gave the government a good deal, and the airline graciously provided the upgrade at no extra cost, as it was long trip to the West Coast.

     Upon my departure at Seoul airport, the clerk at check-in told me that business class was already full.  However, she asked if it would be OK to put me in first class.  Who was I to refuse?  So, I and three other passengers went into first class, and the remainder filled business and coach.   The Boeing 747 was almost completely full except for the first class section.  First class contained about 20 seats, of which only four were occupied.

     The airline clerk had given me a boarding pass that seated me next to another man.  Although there was the option of spreading out, sitting anywhere, and curling up for a nice sleep, I chose to occupy my assigned seat.  So, we took off and after getting settled, he and I began to talk.  He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, and I was about fifty-three.  I told him that I worked at the embassy in Seoul, and he told me that he lived in New Orleans and had been in Korea, checking on a deep-sea, offshore drilling platform that a shipbuilding company was constructing for the oil company for which he worked. 

 He asked where I came from in the U.S., and I told him that I had grown up in Eastern New Mexico, Clovis.  He said that his family originally came from Oklahoma and the Texas Panhandle areas, but that he had lost track of them.  He said that his dad had a brother who probably was still down in that area, but he didn't know where.  So, I asked him what his uncle did for a living, and he said that he was a barber.  I asked what his uncle's last name was...and he said "Petty".  I asked, "Angus Petty"?  And, he said yes, that Angus was his uncle.   He was truly surprised.  I told him that both my dad and I were customers of Angus in Clovis back in the late 1940's and early 1950's.  Wayne,  Angus' son, joined his dad in the barbershop after graduating from Clovis High School, but by the mid-1980's Angus had passed on.  

     However, the next time that I visited Clovis in about 1988, I dropped by Petty's barbershop on Mitchell next to the City Hall, got a haircut, and told Wayne how I had met his uncle strictly by happenstance on the airplane from Korea.  We had a nice talk and rehashed good memories.  Wayne had been one year ahead of me at Clovis High School, but we were good friends through our association with the Clovis Wildcat athletic teams.  

I believe that Wayne passed on a year or so after I talked to him. But, I am still amazed at the chance circumstances that just happened to piece together this experience, which is still vividly etched in my memory.  I have often wondered about the numerical odds of that happening, and in retrospect probably should have played the lottery as soon as the plane landed.  

---30---
FOR MIL'S PLACE
ROBERT STEBBINS, CHS '51
2/28/14

    

CLOVIS REMEMBERED…..

*******************************************************************

THE COUNTRY STORE AND PETTY'S BARBERSHOP

*******************************************************************

by Richard and Bobby Joe

RICHARD:

Do you remember "The Country Store" on Grand Avenue? I worked there for Mrs. Patterson during my junior and senior years.  Worked 12 hours on each Saturday and Sunday.  She paid me $1.00 per hour.  It was a lot of money for a guy at that time.  $24 per week allowed me to date Marcia in a first class manner. I did get time off on the days that the Wildcats were traveling. I did enjoy the work.

I learned a lot about advertisIng from Mrs Pat.  She would have an item that was not selling and would normally cost 5 cents per can. She would have me make a big pile near the check out counter and put a sign. ON SALE: 6 cents each.  They would sell out in a very short time.

I was amazed.

I had another memory flash about the Country Store.  Mrs. Patterson was extremely fast in checking out customers. While sacking the groceries, I worked very hard to keep up with her.  I became very proficient at the job.  Occasionally I would get ahead and pick up an items which she had not processed.  She would slap my hand to put the item back.  It became a challenge. I tried to see how many times each day that I could get my hand slapped.  I think she enjoyed the game.

About the back door:  Several times a watermelon got "accidently" dropped on the floor during unloading.  Our friends would drop by for a sweet taste. Mrs. Pat thought that it was funny.

I used to get my haircuts at Petty’s.  He could do a flat-top as well as anyone.  If the Wildcats had won the night before my cut, he would not let me pay.  I loved going to Petty’s.  

************************************************************
BOBBY JOE:

Those were the good old days.   Pat Patterson and Mrs. Patterson, hard working people.  I worked there about three years ahead of you, Richard.   I was really young and I only made 45 cents an hour and was glad to get it.   I feel sure the only reason Mr. Pat let me work is because my big brother Art worked there also.  

Actually, I was probably over-paid at that.  I should have paid them to work.   I learned a lot about working for the other man.  Prior to that, I pushed a lawn mower around the neighborhood drumming up mowing and trimming jobs for 50 cents to $1.00 a yard.   But at the Country Store, I spent a lot of time working the produce.  I remember farmers would bring in bushels of corn.  It was my job to whack the butt end off of the cob and whack another spot on the cob so that the ladies could pull a little of the shuck back and look at the corn.  Man-o-man what a learning experience.

Of course there was always a little fun time.   Mr. Pat always left those big back doors open to circulate the air through the store and you could see police department from the back door.   Well, being the mischievous kid that I was, I took my sling shot to work with me.  Anyway, we used to buy these silver ball-looking fire works and we called them torpedoes.  You could shoot them a long distance and when they landed they would explode.  

 At just the right time when I was working at the back of the store, I stretched the red rubbers on that sling shot to their max and aimed the torpedo almost straight up, hoping that it would land on the drive of the police station---------and it did! ! !   Perfect shot..........scared me to death because I suddenly realized that I could get in big trouble.  I peeked around the door and here came the COPS.  I ran to the front of the store and started sacking groceries.  The policemen came milling around looking at everyone and walking to the back of the store.  Of course, I had hid my sling shot very well and the Cops finally left, knowing that it was one of us boys that probably did the trick.  Whoa is me, never again, scared me to death.   Yeah, the good ole Country Store was quite a learning experience.  

Now talking about barber shops, the only one that I ever remember is  "Petty’s Barber Shop".    Dad would take Art and me to get a haircut, normally on Saturday morning,   As I remember, Petty’s was on the west side of Mitchell between Grand and the police station.  It was right by the Singer Sewing Machine Shop, which was owned by Mr. VanSycle, and that was way before Wayne graduated and started barbering.   Later Angus moved across the street in the same block and it seems like it was there forever.  Maybe the reason I remember much about going to the barber shop is because Dad bought a pair of manual hair clippers and he gave Art and me haircuts 'til we were older.   Sure wish I had those old clippers.  They would make a nice conversation piece in Mil’s attic. 

for Mil's Place, by Richard Drake and Bobby Joe Snipes

-----30----
Mil's Place
2/27/14

WHAT'LL IT BE--LEAD OR PAPER?

It seems there are many dangerous things in

this life...not even counting motorcycles!

This danger may not be one to joke about---our

dishware finishes may be full of lead...too many 

parts-per-million for our health, and even more 

perilous for our little children.

Have you taken your dishes to a reputable

lead-scanner lately---you know, one with an

an impossibly long acronym---whose sole 

purpose for existence is to protect us?

Wait 'til you google: "13 INVESTIGATES THE 

LEAD IN YOUR DISHES." You will hope

someone out there in the government is seeing

after us. But you may be disappointed.

Let's go way back: My dear mother bought a set

of bright-colored Fiesta dishes circa 1941. Over 

the years she "raised" a family with those dishes.

(I inherited one little green bowl, from which I

likely ate cereal and listened to KICA before

heading for La Casita school, when I was ten or

eleven.)

My Beloved Wife and I were so tickled-pink over

getting married in 1957 that we selected "TICKLED

PINK" as our dishes! We have a cup and a bowl

left from this set! 

I went back to HSU in Abilene in 1956 for the 

wedding of my dear friends, Ken and Juanell. 

I'll never forget  that their dishes laid out with all 

their gifts, were "DESERT ROSE."

My mother, who in later years acquired Desert

Rose  dishes, one day bequeathed them to us

on the spot, showing us her new solid whites.

Though chipped and scraped, we've liked them

and used them for years. after all they are a

popular long-time classic. We have added and

replaced. (They say: chipped and scratched dishes

may tend to leach more lead.)

All of the above dishes were made before 1970,

after which the word is that more careful testing

and control-of-lead-in-dishes has taken place.

However, since 1970, the world has gone on.

Newly-weds and we older folks have been

acquiring more dishes. It seems to  be a some-

what nebulous subject--- In fact, IS there better

control over lead in our dishes by government...

or not?

Just take us, for example: we had a dear friend

who traveled a lot in the eastern part of the

U.S. She brought me coffee mugs for my

collection from all over---even Newcastle, Pa.

and Boston! Since 1970....

Too, I can't resist Starbuck's colorful, creative,

and unique coffee mugs. I buy them! I even eat 

beans out of fhe bigger ones.

This Christmas my wife bought a partial set of

square white dishes, painted beautifully in one

corner with a bright green-and-red  holly plant---

all kiln-baked-in nicely. Cups and square bowls

came to match, also with holly painted on.

These latter-day dishes since 1970---are they

lead-free, and safe?  Well, you can bone up on 

this one, but  I think the answer is: "No one knows

for sure."

There is some good news: The new "FIESTA"

dishes proudly advertise themselves as being

"lead free," as well as one or two other 

companies' latest products.

This discussion with my wife about dishes

began when she said: "There are the neatest

colored dishes down at the Dollar Store for

a buck apiece. it'd be fun to have a few just

for variety!"

Everything in life seems to have a bane...

and I said: "What about lead in cheap 

dishes?" That started the research on my

iPad.

So I said to my wife today at our delightful 

and regular morning coffee conference, as 

we discussed our dish status: "Honey, there's

really only one answer to this dilemma!"

And she beat me to the punch line:

"Yes, I know," she said, with a smile and a  

cute, joyous twinkle in her blue eyes,

"PAPER PLATES!" she said.

(Women love 'em. And I hate 'em!)

********30*******

BY MIL

02/25/14

Response by Robert Stebbins:

Milburn...I think that every family in Clovis had a set of those Fiesta dishes.  At least, all of my relatives did.  They did chip with hard use, but were pretty durable for families with lots of kids or grand kids.  There must have been a Fiesta dish salesman who traveled around with those guys who were knocking on doors and taking baby pictures.   And, of course speaking of lead and other bad stuff...how about those little painted lead soldiers that we used to play with and chew on when we got "bored"?  Or, the drops of mercury that we used to rub on a dime to make it shiny.  Where was the EPA and how did we survive?  I guess it was by drinking water out of a garden hose, but it makes one wonder.  Was it because we didn't have instant worldwide communication with pundits shouting the dangers and hazards that everything in the world presents?  Oh, we were a sturdy bunch!  We survived growing up on the Great Plains, World War II, the development of atomic weapons, the Cold War, and some other stuff that I won't mention.  But, regardless, as the old cowboy would say, we've had a good ride whatever the future holds.  And for that, we can't complain.  Robert

CLOVIS REMEMBERED….

BY ROBERT AND MIL

*************************************************************

CLOVIS: WEST SEVENTH…..and BARBERSHOPS

*************************************************************

ROBERT:

Mil....I was watching the NM Lobos walloping (how's that for a good word?) the San Diego Aztecs on TV last night.  An Australian, Cameron Bairstow was the Lobo's star.  It reminded me of Bristow's market on the south side of Seventh Street between Merriwether and Hinkle.  And, right next to Bristow's was Red's barbershop where my grandpa used to take me when I was five or six years of age for 25 cent haircuts.  

Across the street on the north side of Seventh was Jack Calkin's auto body shop and Dr. Pepper Bottling Co. (next to the alley), if my memory hasn't faded.  Then, one block east of Bristow's next to Durand's Butchers was the Clovis Drug Store, owned and operated by Manuel and Molly.  My favorite there, when I had a nickel or dime which dictated the size, was their "cherry phosphate" served in a paper cone cup that fitted into a black plastic holder to support the cup.  They were easy to tip over.  

Thinking of barber shops, there was also one just north of the Lyceum theater.  That was the next one for me after Red's.  Then came a shop located on Main Street in the Silver Grill shopping complex.  And, the last place I got my hair cut in Clovis was at Angus and Wayne Petty's just north of the Avalon Hotel on Mitchell.  I can still see A.W. Skarda at probably around 75-80 years of age after his haircut, grasping the arm rests of the barber chair at Petty's, and leaping out of the barber chair.  He was still living In Hotel Clovis at the time.

**************************************************

MIL:

Robert, You described West Seventh to a "T." There was one place you left out---right east of Calhoun on the north side of W. Seventh, and on the alley, was a small neighborhood mom-and-pop grocery store. It was run by my great-uncle E.A. Key, mayor of Clovis  circa 1931. The little building may still be there.

As you said, Bristow's was on the south side of the street. I was in there many times with Dad, who bought the orange blocks of chili (frozen) from Durand. (I never liked it---it was very greasy and had lumpy fat meat in it---the so-called "chili grind.") Ms. Bristow, as I remember her was a nice, friendly, petite little woman. Did Durand later start his own market?

The Clovis Drug was run by Manuel and his wife. He wore a tan pharmacist's coat. We kids, in those days, went into every store on the way home from movies, "just looking,"  and he didn't seem overjoyed to have us messing around. I never saw a soul in that quiet, dark store.

In the early days, '38 and '39, Manuel had a restaurant in the little matching building to the east of the drug store,  which had drive-in service and served great "malted milks." Triple-dip ice cream cones were 15 cents.

My brother-in-law bought that drug store in the seventies and it became a Yamaha motorcycle shop.

Clovis barber shops are a very interesting subject. My first one to patronize when I was four-and-a-half was on the alley on W. Fourth, by the post office. Two guys named Jenks and Nolan ran that one. (Years later Nolan's son cut my hair in Albuquerque.)

Then I went to Jim's on W. Grand; then to Carrington's on Main south of Duckworth Drug. (There were good barbers in there,including Jim King, Cotton Grant, and Carrington.) That's the last shop I remember having spittoons.

Like you, I then went to the shop just north of the Lyceum Theater;  Cotton Grant must have bought it as I remember him in there. Years later, when in Clovis, I visited him and his brother in a shop out in the north Clovis shopping area. Several of those barbers were from the Melrose area.

It was a good home-town.

     

It was the only world we knew.

       *******30******

       BY ROBERT STEBBINS,

       .......and MIL

       2/23/14     

"IF I'DA BEEN A TREE...."

*******************************************************
"SOLITARY TREES...IF THEY GROW AT ALL,  GROW STRONG." ---Winston Churchill
*******************************************************

If I'da been a tree
Wanting to make a statement...

If I'da been a tree
Wanting to be  a loner
and "hang out"....

If I'da been a tree
Wanting "my space"....

If I'da been a tree
ticked off at all other trees...

I'd I'da been
"a snooty, conceited tree..."

If I'da been a tree
Totally fed up with
hypocrisy....

If I'da been a tree
Thinking I was "a cut"
above all the other trees....

If I'da been a tree
that wanted to be...
noticed...

If I'da been a tree
that hated crowds....

Yes, if I'da been a tree

          and just had to be---

          the only tree...

          So that you couldn't see

          the forest because of me...

 I think, I'da selected...

 A WARMER CLIME!

*********30*******
BY MIL
11/23/13

THE AMERICAN POETS

The painter came the other day

    to paint the room.

Bookshelves had to be moved, yes---

    the big heavy one

holding our one hundred "Best Books"

    of two hundred years of

American independence...

Leather-bound, gold-leafed, and 

    lettered and stamped

with gold designs...these books

    were published from 1976 to 1984.

A picture was I, an old guy, sitting in

    my favorite rocker, dusting and 

hefting each volume, marveling at its

    beauty, its quality, its weight---

(It is twice as heavy as a regular

    book!)

and thumbing through the pages, made

    of special paper, to last a 

thousand years.

    

This turned out to be a slow task for me...

     but loving books as I always have, 

I didn't care how long it lasted...

     In my busy earning years, I had 

neglected these books---especially

     the poetry volumes, all of 

which were now calling to me....

After thirty years or more, in a safe, dry

     shelf,  these books still had it;

A combination smell of "book," and 

    "leather." I had to smell 

every book.

I was separating the poetry books from

    the histories, novels, and plays.

For you poetry lovers, here is a list of

    American poets with volumes

in our set: Emily Dickinson, Hart Crane,

    Marianne Moore, Walt Whitman,

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, W.H. Auden,

    Edward Arlington Robinson,

Wallace Stevens, Ralph Waldo Emerson,

    William Carlos Williams, Robert Frost,

and e.e. cummings.

Not until we had begun painting, and laid 

    the books around me in a circle, 

had I taken the time to delve into 

     some of these poets.

Lately I have been trying to read a good bit

    in one or more of them every day---

At times I have been almost "bowled over,"

    as I encounter great difficulty

in understanding them..all of them

    at times...and yet surprisingly,

they all have poems of simplicity.

And can you imagine the daunting task

    they faced when writing poems sixty 

or seventy pages long, as most of them 

     did at one time or another?

One reads with awe and respect,

    mindful that these, our own

American "men of letters," passed

    by here and left a great legacy...

They literally scraped--emptied--their

    minds, and left the resulting

messages for us!

We need  to read their poetry and try to

     grasp their innermost thoughts.

           

(Remember the English poet Robert

    Browning, who in "Andrea Del Sarto,"

said: "Ah, but a man's reach should exceed

    his grasp, or what's a heaven for?")

********30*******

BY MIL

02/12/14

WINTER SUN... ON THE PATIO

I sit here on my patio, in February

    absorbing the sun's rays...

fully-clothed  and with a

    a jacket and cap.

At least the two-o'clock winter sun

    is pouring some vitamin D

into my bare face.

It is cold! Why am I out here?

    Well, I try to think poetically 

and see things...unseen things...

     if one's not looking...

I want to see the grass bright green again...

    I want to hear the doves of April...

         coo again...

I want to smell the honeysuckle of May

    again, in all its fragrance...

I want to feel and absorb the unsurpassed

    coolness and freshness of 

         spring breezes...

I want to sit and watch the quarreling jays

    in the top of the pine tree...

  To be mesmerized by the little hummingbirds

        hovering like miniature choppers

             and having their fill...

To hear the children all over the neighborhood

     running and laughing...with the joy

         of life...

To see the rose bushes laden with roses

    in full bloom...

To hear a mower, cutting grass, somewhere

    far-off...at a distance...

To see and smell the Rose-of-Sharon

    in bloom...

And above all, to look up and see the 

   friendly, fluffy, floating white clouds

         soaring gracefully by,

           as if they were 

            sailing ships

               at sea!

O, but it is too early in the Earth's rotation

    for all that...it is February...

I must enjoy what is here, now...

I know, if I sit here under the sun

    awhile...

The Creator will speak to me...

     and I will see...

            other things.

******30******

BY MIL

01/07/14

IN THE ATTIC---ON A SLEETY FEBRUARY DAY!

       THE POETRY OF 

WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS

************************************

so much depends

  upon

a red wheel

  barrow

glazed with rain

  water

beside the white

  chickens

"THE RED WHEELBARROW,"

  by William Carlos Williams

*********************

Sitting here in my cozy attic this cold February

morning, I am alternately reading poetry and

admiring my attic!

There are a couple of inches of snow and sleet

on the ground. It all began about five a.m. and

the sleet is still flying in on gusts of 35 m.p.h.

and giving that blizzard sound of splat...splat..

splat... against the window! It is pummeling the 

roof, right over my head. 

The wind is moaning through the 1/4 inch 

opening at the bottom of the window---which

I have allowed for fresh air---and the pesky 

old mulberry branch is slapping the side of 

the house in a priceless rhythm.

I am musing on the fact that I may have the

most famous attic around. It's true---my 

readers and friends sometimes kinda hint:

"Er, sometime we might just drop in to see 

you all and...well, spend the night in your cozy

attic---you know, just to check it out, try your 

snacks---and see if it is as good as you say!

LOL."

Well, there are several drawbacks to this idea.

One is, my military surplus sturdy 3/4 bed is

a bit small for two people (I think).

And then I know they'll be into my stash of

snacks, so neatly arranged on my garage 

sale 3/5 rolling cabinet: canned Beanie-Weenies,

canned tamales, Wolf's chili, Libby's Vienna 

sausage, sardines, Dinty Moore Beef Stew,

extra crunchy JIF peanut butter, a jar of 

cashews, six packs of Orville Redenbacher 

movie popcorn, and two boxes of Ritz crackers,

(not the lo-calorie kind).

Over there in the little fridge, I try to keep a

variety of smears for the Ritz crackers---

onion and chives, garden vegetable, green chili,

and pimento cheese spread.  

Those of you who've been to my attic know that 

there are always NEHI orange and grape sodas

(twelve-ounce sizes), Hires Root Beers, diet/decaf

Pepsis and Dr. Peppers, and a couple of Snapple

Iced Teas!

The little fridge has a small freezer and I like to keep 

two Stouffer's Mac and Cheese, frozen. All you have to

do is put them in the microwave for six minutes 

or so and have some marvelous mac and cheese!

Well, enough about my snacks...and I really don't mind 

sharing---l like company---just wanted an excuse 

to tell you about my neat little place and my food!

I brought upstairs, awhile back, some volumes of

poetry, bound in leather, from the Franklin Company.

In 1976, the company published (into 1984), for

the 200th anniversary of American Independence,

the "100 Best American Books," written up to

that time. (I acquired them at one-a-month for eight

and a third years.)

The ones I have pulled out of the shelf to study, and

brought upstairs, are poetry volumes of: Robert Frost,

Emily Dickinson, Marianne Moore, e.e. cummings,

Edward Arlington Robinson, and William Carlos

Williams.

I was somewhat surprised at the choices of poetry,
plays and novels---I had never heard of some of them,

and other important ones were overlooked. I wrote the

committee about this and they indicated that the selections

were made by several dozen Ph.D.'s in literature.

One of the poets I had not heard of was William Carlos

Williams, whose poems were published in a beautiful

bright orange leather volume with gold embossed design

and lettering. and of course, gold-edged pages.

It is William's poems I am studying and enjoying today,

here as I lie propped up on my camp bed, with my goose-

neck lamp on, and covered up under a quilt that is half

as old as I am.

William Carlos Williams (1883-1963) was sometimes 

referred to as "The Doctor Poet." In many ways, he 

may have been one of the most unique and unusual

of the Twentieth Century American poets.

He was unusual in that his "day job" was in medicine.

He was a doctor. It is likely that most of his patients 

never knew he was a poet. In his medical career---caring for

plain old every day Americans in plain old common

small towns, he was constantly absorbing information,

inspiration, and ideas for his poetry. He gained a 

deep understanding of what it meant to be an 

American. 

The way they thought and talked---their customs and 

speech patterns were forever etched on his mind. His

goal was to spend his life recording  this... in poetry. 

He felt like every common man's life was poetic.

In the literary world, he is thought to be one of the

most original voices of the 20th century. In several

of the writing courses I have taken, he is one of the

poets most-often quoted.

I am quoting for you here, two more of his poems:

"THIS IS JUST TO SAY"

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox.

and which 

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

"TO A POOR OLD WOMAN"

munching on a plum on

the street a paper bag

of them in her hand

They taste good to her

They taste good

to her. They taste

good to her

You can see it by

the way she gives herself

to the one half

sucked out in her hand

Comforted

a solace of ripe plums

seeming to fill the air

They taste good to her.

In William Carlos William's interesting poem

"THE WIND INCREASES," he uses the 

most unusual word format of any poem

I have ever seen. We are reminded: If it's

YOUR poem, a considerable amount of 

creativity is allowed...and expected, in

whatever you want to do or say.

My reader, I hope you have been 

challenged a little bit to study and enjoy

William's poems. Many of his are not so

simple as the ones I've quoted here.

I plan to keep reading him until I am fully

familiar with his work..

It is so cozy under this quilt, and the

weather is clearly worsening outside. I 

think I am like Wylie's mother who wrote

in her "FRIO" story: "I have always loved

a good storm."

I believe I'll cover up good with this quilt and 

get me a little nap...and when I wake up---have 

a big NEHI grape with Ritz Crackers, and

a bit of pimento cheese spread on each one!

Don't ever stop reading…POETRY!

********30*******

BY MIL

02/03/14

"ALWAYS A SOU CHEF...NEVER A CHEF"

*****************************
"AND WE SHOUDN'T....
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We talk about weighty things...
My wife and me...

We like food---and we shouldn't.
We talk about it all the time,
and we shouldn't.

We watch the Cooking Channel
and we shouldn't.

We are fans of Bobby Flay,
Alton Brown, and Emeril
and we shouldn't be...

We cut out recipes and get them
off Facebook, and we shouldn't.

Folks our age should be over
and done with food!
But we're not....

Did you know that the French
have a saying: "The English have
a thousand religions, but only one
sauce!"

Now on that subject, did you know:
Every chef, worth his salt (oops),
has a "HOUSE  SEASONING"  of
his own design and preference,
when doing recipes on TV.

Paula Deen's (we love Paula) is:
One cup salt, fourth cups
of black pepper, and garlic powder.

I, a lowly "SOU" chef, (but one with
five corn breads, and all manner
of chilis and stews), also have a
"HOUSE SEASONING" which
goes into everything!

I told my wife this----

         "I too, have a House Seasoning

          of my very own...."

But did I get to say the punch line?
NO!

Beloved Editor died, almost
fell out of her chair, laughing,
all the while saying: "I know yours!"

"IT'S LIPTON'S ONION SOUP MIX!"

********30*******
BY MIL
11/20/13

THE CROCUS

It has been a long, hard winter...
    seems to me.

Even the grass is a faded
    brownish-green and
     is tired of the cold...

Our Rose of Sharon has
        no leaves.

The mulberries are bare.

Old Mr. Sun is still too low
    in the southern sky
      every afternoon
       for one to sit
        on the patio.

The February sky is an unfriendly,
     cold one---sans the billowing
      white, avuncular clouds of
                 summer.

The blue jays left in October,
            and are not back....
       We miss their fussing
       and noisy carryings-on
       in the tops of the pines!

My imitation red rose, from Michael's,
          given to me by the
            Beloved Editor,

sits in its little white vase in front
     of me, here at my deskl    
            where I write.

There is a neat lady, from the Clovis
   area who lives here, grows roses,
          and sends me one now
                     and then...

but it is a long time until "rose season"
                      in May!

There is hope however--- the nights
    are a bit above freezing now,
     and we saw a robin today,
        searching for worms
          on the front lawn.

But I have a secret to surprise my
                     wife!

For you see, we once planted
   several crocus bulbs
            (in 1985)
     and they came up right
        through  the snow
          early the next
              spring.

When those little hardy flowers came
    up, they warmed my heart!

Last fall I sneaked out to our meager
    flower bed and planted six
               crocus bulbs...

There is snow still in the flowerbeds
     from the storm last week...

So every day I slip out there to see
    if my little flowers are
        peeking through---

Hoping to see them coming up through
             the snow, with their
               tiny green leaves---

I will take my companion of fifty-seven
                     winters
              by the hand, and will
                lead her out to see
                   our crocuses---

A BIG SURPRISE....and will read this
           poem, I have written---

O Little Flower, thou cold-natured one,
Why do I love thee almost more---
than any other flower?

For you know I am very fond
    of a rose...
because of its symbolism and it is
  a flower that gladdens the heart
        of a lady...every time---
I have ever been fond of daisies, and
     wildflowers, like bluebonnets
     and sunflowers (don't laugh)...

But it is given to you, Little One,
     to peek out into the
               snow

and thus announce the advent of
            all the others!

********30*******
BY MIL
02/11/14