"IF IT WERE NOT ATTACHED" . . .

         Dad was a kind, truthful man, not given to saying deliberately hurtful things to his sons.  Early in my life, however, he identified a .  . . what? . . . habit, trait, behavior, . . . that has persisted throughout most of my now 80 years.  Consequently, 'age' cannot carry the explanatory freight.  It occurs with annoying regularity, never at a 'convenient' time and often  involves somewhat expensive items.  More often than I would like to acknowledge, his observation raises its troublesome truth: "Son, reach behind you and see if you have your butt.  If it were not attached to you, you would lose it." Dad died in 1992 and I seem still to 'honor' his observation frequently.

    Last week it was a credit card which I finally located on the front seat of my wife's automobile which I had driven to the pharmacy instead of my own.  Several months ago, I could not locate my new  bi-focals.  My wife found them a couple of days later at the bottom of the hall closet where they had fallen when I was fetching the dog's outdoor paraphernalia .  Keys ? Regularly !  Today, it is the hearing aid for my left ear.  The tiny computer in that apparatus costs more than the  laptop with which I am  typing this.

   About 1 p.m. I discovered the 'absence' and called my Audiologist in a nearby town.  Her office telephone answering machine notified me that Friday's closing time is noon, with a Monday morning reopening.  Well, by that time I will be well into my office appointments.  My clients may have to speak loudly.  Thankfully, my hearing is not greatly restricted.  And the hearing aid is insured, so that reduces the stress somewhat.  While there are scheduling and monetary components , those are not  what make the entire matter bothersome.  

   Over the years, some things have been 'found'; others, not so, notably a wallet some 18 +  years ago.  Once after attending a movie, I discovered that I no longer had my check book.  After providing identification, the theater manager returned it.  On our wedding trip, my wife and I spent the second full day retracing our steps of the first day in search of the checkbook.  "What will be next ?" is a troublesome specter.  

   Maybe I should organize a 'search party'; after all I have been away from our house only briefly today.  Or, perhaps offer rewards for those who find my prizes.  So, if you spot it, it looks like this . . .  only for the other ear.

     

                          Satchel

PITCHIN' HORSESHOES

           

    Does a RINGER count five points or three ?
       Do you give three points or one for a LEANER ?
          If my ringer tops (lands over) yours, does that cancel yours or count double for my throw?
            Is a game 11, 21, or 40 points ? And, if we are playing the 21 version and one team scores an 11-0 advantage, is that still called a 'skunk' and a win ?

  These are not esoteric considerations for the serious horseshoe pitcher.  There now is actually a  NHPA ---which i assume means 'National Horseshoe Pitchers Association'.  Their 'rules' vary significantly from those that informed my early playing, one particularly noteworthy variation being the actual 'instruments' of play.  I was an adult before I saw the 'regulation  shoe' that no self-respecting equestrian would consider wearing. These weigh approximately two and a half pounds whereas actual horses' shoes vary in size and weight, like the facsimile above. The game likely was 'invented' by blacksmiths and ferriers who provided and fitted the original footwear.

   The origin of my love of the game probably  goes back to the Christmas gift of a  Ring-toss set when I was  three or four years old.  When I was early teen ager, I was either 
"'fair to middling' " or dad was a very indulgent parent.  He would take me along as his pitching partner for the frequent Sunday afternoon games with the men  gathered at Mr. George Brooks's yard.  He encouraged me to develop my own 'style' of gripping and throwing. I never mastered his technique of holding it on the side and spinning it towards the stake. I preferred the 'hold it by the back and toss end over end' method.  

    My most memorable game occurred in the 1970's at a faculty picnic.  I was paired against my colleague Norbert. He threw a double ringer ... worth 10 points.  To my amazement and his consternation, I also threw a double ringer which by our rules counted 20 points.

   I seldom play now. Not many folks have 'pits' and ,anyway, my shoulder protests the weight and motion.  There was a time when I played reasonably well. A kind of horseshoe tournament once was a staple of our family Thanksgiving gatherings.  (Now the game of choice seems to be BeanBag toss. )

Waiting to follow brother Dennis's pitch.  Family Thanksgiving gathering
when our shoulders and arms were younger.

    
    And I have known some fierce competitors. My cousin Clarice's husband, Roy, was essentially unbeatable, as he often let us know.  My fraternity brother, Jack Sugg, won the intramural horseshoe  competition in the late  1950's. (I learned this a few years ago when I came across a journal that I wrote intermittently in those years.)

    According to an old superstition, horseshoes are a symbol of good luck and were (are) placed in prominent locations in homes.  Well, I've 'lost my horseshoe' for playing but think it would be great fun to pitch one more ringer.

      Satchel


   

     

MOM'S 100TH BIRTHDAY

     

'CHATHAM COUNTY, NORTH CAROLINA, April 6, 1918...
        Grover and Verdona Phillips Cooper announce the birth of their fifth daughter whom they have named Mildred Leona."

   So might the local newspaper have noted her arrival.  Five other children came later.  Ten of the twelve grew to adulthood ---two having  died in their early youth. Her early years were spent on a hard-scrabble farm where her dad scratched out a living.  In time, he became postmaster in the mill village and his wife  acquired employment in the cotton mill.  

   At a young age (she always said that she was "mature"), mom eloped with an eligible bachelor in the village. She and dad had been married for almost  60 years at the time of his death.

Earliest photo of mom as an adult
probably mid to late 1930's

        Finding employment during the Great Depression of the 1930's was a challenge for dad. Eventually, his dad helped him secure a railroad job in Montgomery, Alabama.  In time his pregnant wife joined him and I was born in that city. Soon thereafter they returned to North Carolina.  Being proud of her first  born, she apparently had regaled her parents with stories about him.  Grand-pa Cooper on first visit apparently was less impressed with his grand-son's beauty and quoted an ancient Talmudic proverb: "Every crow thinks hers is the blackest."

At Kenan Stadium
Chapel Ilill,NC
Late 1930's-early 1940's

    Despite their considerable native intelligence, due to various circumstances, neither of our parents completed high school. That experience caused them to emphasize the importance of formal education (while never becoming 'uppity') .  Mom was proud of her GED  and the LPN degree that she received after her three sons were adults. I often comment that I was a college graduate before realizing that I had an option.  

   Frugality, thrift and the integrity of hard work remained life long values for our parents. But they were never miserly.  Whenever I had 'payday' in my high school jobs, she always insisted that a portion of that was for savings.

    While not especially verbal about her love, mom  expressed her love and affection through her cooking, and she was 'world class'. Chris (pictured below with mom and her oldest grand-daughter) always liked to visit because, as he said, "Grand-ma cooks old-fashioned."   Sunday 'dinner' (eaten after church) usually featured fried chicken or roast, fried okra, potato salad, a made from scratch cake, sweet iced tea, and other items since decreed 'unhealthy'.  And, special occasions such as Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas  and birthdays . . . well, 'you had to be there'.  In the 1960's, mom took her skills to the local public school where she managed the cafeteria for several years.  I am including a sampling of her recipes at the conclusion of this blog.

    The younger of my two brothers also wrote of her cooking in his weekly column in the local weekly newspaper:

"Mamma could cook. She had to in an effort to feed three bottomless pit sons and a hard-working husband, as well as herself, as well as the crowd of relatives who dropped by often, the neighbors who came over, the friends we boys brought home from high school and college, the families she fed when their luck got down or there was a death in their family."

    For  all her other positive attributes and  achievements, mom particularly excelled in one area:  'Grand-parenting' ! She showered her eight grand-children with affection, advice, candy from her not-so-secret hiding place,  modeling kindness for one's neighbors, droll humor, sage sayings and . . . well, ever so much more.
Family lore tells how their oldest grand-daughter (my daughter) in early attempts to say 'grand-ma' and 'grand-pa' did not master the 'grand' portion; thereafter, they pretty much answered to 'ma' and 'pa'.

With Chris and Kirstin

She believed that it is a grand-parents duty to spoil .

    After dad's death, mom lived alone for several years until a surgery-gone-awry left her unable to walk.  She made the decision to move into a nearby nursing home.  Among the residents were many friends of her age cohort  so she had a 'ready made' social life until her passing in 2003. 

Late 1970's

    So, she would have been 100 years old on April 6 were she living today. 
   100 !! Without being 'soppy  sentimental' (as she might have termed it), I have thought several times this week of the late 'Bear' Bryant's long ago "reach out and touch someone" commercial for AT&T : "Have you called you mama today? I sure wish I could call mine."

    Satchel

Mom's 'Cold oven cake recipe' in her own handwriting:

Tomato Pudding:
  1 quart tomatoes           4 slices of bread
  1 egg                             1/3 cup sugar
   Salt and Pepper to taste
   Mix above ingredients, pour into buttered pan, cook at 350*
for one hour. Sprinkle top with cheese, cook until melted.