Opinions

As my cousin read aloud our Grandmother’s Brunswick Stew recipe, I enjoyed all the imagery it evoked, not to mention the aromatic recollection of that stew which was prepared with chicken, pork, tomatoes and corn in a turnof- the-century kitchen that always smelled heavenly. Interestingly enough, the recipe begins with, “Wring the chicken’s neck…” That’s when I usually walk away from the memory and wonder if somebody—anybody—could make me some Brunswick Stew, or Camp Stew, as we usually called it…without the manual labor my grandmother invested.

The thrill associated with rollercoasters is enough to make normal people question their choice of food or beverage, not to mention their seat selection in boarding the train of cars.

My Aunt Ruthie used to make the best pickles ever.

I was leaving the grocery store with a family pack of chicken thighs, two pounds of fresh okra and 16 oz. of cheddar cheese. It was Monday, before 10 a.m. It was also breezy, before the rain found us.

There are some groups you just don’t mess with. Military veterans, steel workers, women, truckers, old people and coffee drinkers. A couple of weeks ago our President Joe Biden made the mistake of telling an unfounded story to the first two groups while campaigning in Pennsylvania. Blue collar folks are not to be trifled with. Even if they like you, their antennas sense bull faster than a lotto-winner making friends.

It may be that Stubby is gone for good. In the summer of 2022, I started writing about my mother’s new pet, a red squirrel who she reluctantly began to care for. My parents live on 20 acres in the woods up north in a house my father designed when he retired 35 years ago. The house looks over the lake and, for most of the winter, my parents have few neighbors, except for the birds at their feeder and the deer making their way through the deep snow and, of course, red squirrels.

Some individuals are healthier than others, but the uncomfortable facts reveal the human body is generally frail and vulnerable. I occasionally joke around with my Son-in-law about him being from another planet because he claims he’s never been sick, however, like the rest of us, there will come a day when something will go wrong. As a minister, I’ve seen my share of sickness and pain and it hurts me to see someone suffer. My father was a very sick man, and our family watched him go through years of agony. With my parents being faithful members of their church, they received countless thoughts and prayers for him to overcome his health problems and it was appreciated. Why was he not healed? Well, I guess that question could also be asked about millions of others since the beginning of time and the answer is always that God’s plans are perfect.

He is a grandfather, and as such, he wishes to introduce his granddaughters to the simple pleasures of life. Like riding to the dump in his truck. “We’re going where?” the girls asked, with an overabundance of sophistication.

A mean step-father once, out-ofthe-blue, pinched a plug out of my bicep, prompting an angry “ouwee, what did you do that for?” response. His answer was, “because you hit me,” to which I yelped, “I did not!” His counter, “but you thought about it didn’t you,” was both a justification for his hurtful action as well as a twisted, reason for his pre-emptive behavior.

During my childhood, the lengthening days of spring which gave way to summer were thick with humidity and with opportunity. Lightning bugs affirmed the approach of June, July and August when the school doors would close, and the refrigerator doors would open wide with lemonade and Jell-O.