"We will have chicken and dumplings . . ."

         How often we sang the little ditty, She'll be coming 'round the Mountain . . ." with the promise of "We will have chicken and dumplings when she comes . . ."  The blue-ribbon champion of chicken and dumplings in this region is my 92 year old aunt Rachel. 

    She has excelled with this 'delicacy' for years.  When her son had a local restaurant, it was  common knowledge that on the day that her c&d was the 'specialite de jour', late arrival would mean "all gone".

     For the past few years, she, her 'children' and spouses have invited my brothers and our families to her  house on the day after Thanksgiving for an evening of food, fun and fellowship. When we gathered this year, like a magnet I was drawn towards the kitchen stove to see this year's production.  This is what I found:

While she maintains that this is not her favorite food, others of us tell her not to lose the recipe ; that is unlikely to happen.  She could probably cook them in her sleep.

    At 92, she continues to be a marvel and the family 'jewel'.  Since 1996, she has travelled in all 50 states and in 12 foreign countries, continuing a tradition that she and her late husband Wade had enjoyed.

      I cannot lie.  The chicken and dumplings are delicious; but just being with her is a big adventure. Last night we demonstrated again our gratitude for her culinary skills.

You continue to cook them and we will eat them.  Thanks !

           Satchel

"T" TIME

    

                                               T

     The calendar indicates that it's time to "T up"; not as in golf.  Rather,  in the "T" words that accompany this season:  turkey, tummies, time, touchdowns, t.v., together-ness, travel, traffic, tempers,  toys, tots, therapy, trees (as in 'when can we put up the Christmas tree?'), tradition, thanks, and, oh, yea, Thanksgiving. Likely, you have additional "t" words to add.

    At the risk of being "thanktamonious" (please forgive),  I nominate 'Thankful' as the most  desirable attribute for the season as well as for living.  Thankful for what ? the  cynic and the wounded could ask.  Well, for some, there is the old guilt-inducing Count your blessings, name them one by one . . .".   Nor do I find  winsome the attitudes of  entitlement and  exclusivity,  as in "We are special and we deserve..."  Instead, gratitude  cultivates kindness, 'play it forward', sharing whatever bounty one has, and magnanimous actions and attitudes, to mention a few conditions of the heart. For sure, I am hardly fully  there yet but I believe that   THANKFULNESS   is one of life's  Main Things.
     Satchel

"Sattidy is Coming"

    

An appealing sentiment

  Or so the 'old-timers' around whom I grew up sometimes pronounced it. In the small-town/rural oriented  milieu of my youth and adolescence, Saturday was kick-back and ease up day.  Even for those of us with 'jobs', there was something different.  Don't believe it could be called 'festive' and certainly not 'celebratory'.  

    Much of the local economy was driven by agriculture.  Before the advent of so called 'farm to market roads' in the late 1940's , the distance to 'town' was longer and not as often travelled.  Saturday was the exception --- especially Saturday afternoon.  That's when we would see our rural friends as they came for their weekly grocery store run or having their prescriptions refilled or just plain ole socializing with folks that they had not seen since last Saturday.

    In my freshman and sophomore years in high school, I worked in one of the two local drug stores.  At that time we had an added feature that today's CVS, Walgreens, etc. do not provide their customers ... we had a 'soda fountain', complete with soft drinks, milk shakes, banana splits, sundaes, ice cream cones, and various concoctions limited only by the 'soda jerk's' (as we were called) imaginations.  Pay was not so great but access to all the treats of he fountain helped ease the strain.

    Two women invariably came in around 8:30 pm, thirty minutes before closing time.  Their order was always the same :  "a small coke and a pack of nabs". When the outside lights were turned off and I began sweeping the floor, they continued their conversation.  I do not remember how Mrs. Pegram, the proprietor, eventually diplomatically had them to leave.

    Having previously worked in a local 'branch' of a regional 'supermarket' chain, I had already had a front-row view of the Saturday phenomenon.  On one particular Saturday evening, two of the most beautiful girls my 14 year old eyes thought they had ever seen continuously walked up and down the sidewalk in front of our store, making eye contact in a flirty (or so I thought) manner. Only when school began that fall and I knew their identities, their beauty (as well as any they had perceived in me) faded.

    Prior to my junior year,  our family moved to another small town about 15 miles away.  Soon I was back working in the same chain's local grocery.  Most people still did their weekly shopping on Saturday. Twenty-five dollars was a large weekly grocery order and 'carry out service' was usually provided by the high schooler who bagged the order.  And that usually meant carry arms full of bags great distances ... and tips were  forbidden.

     Then one day Dan, a local pharmacy owner, sent a note asking me to come by and discuss coming to work at his establishment where I received compensation above the 40 cents per hour that my earlier parsimonious employer paid.  Invariably, Saturday was the busiest day with Friday nights a precursor.

    The Statler Brothers had many songs that evoked nostalgia for an 
idyllic past.  One of their recordings asked "do the stores still stay open on Friday nights downtown ?" and "do the kids still spend Saturday nights riding  'round Hamburger Dan's ?"

    In time, the advent of 'Shopping Centers' and malls, extensive highway pavings, and several other social and economic changes made Saturday into 'just another day' and changed many small downtowns into rows of empty buildings. 

    A former colleague noted his transition to retirement as "every day is Saturday."  I have the birthdays to qualify for retirement but, gratefully, find satisfaction in my profession and my dislike of  the 180* different time ---Monday morning --- is minimal.   And every day as a "Saturday" sounds alluring . . .  but without the 40 cents per hour salary.

     Satchel