From The Arbor November Is Packed
What few days of summer I remember were very hot, and then they were gone. However, don�t these nice cool mornings feel good? It does make it hard to get out of bed, but the coolness sure is invigorating. Nothing like walking outside with a hot cup of coffee and feel the cool autumn breeze as it rustles the colorful leaves. We could use a dab of rain in our neck of the woods. Country folks use to say we didn�t pay the preacher enough if we went long without rain. I don�t know if that�s true or not, but I�m putting in a few extra dollars just in case. The cotton patches I have observed are so white, they appear to be covered with a heavy snow, and the beans look full and about ready to cut. Our farmers are "making hay while the sun is shining," as the old saying goes. Most every field is full of picking activity or has been, and it looks like a good harvest. If my predictions are correct, November is going to be a wonderful month. Some very important dates to remember: Don�t forget to vote on the 2nd of the month, Daylight Savings Time ends on the 7th, We�ll all want to remember our Veterans on their special day, November 11, and start your diet today as you look forward to the 25th and Thanksgiving Day; the "Feast Day of America." Yes, November is a month filled with things of importance and things for which to be grateful. I hope you will join me in giving thanks every day for a free country, for family and friends, and for the bounty God showers on us, not only at Thanksgiving, but every day of the year. Compiled here are some more really, really important things that you�ll need to take note of in November: National Drum Month, National Peanut Butter Lovers Month, Cookie Monsters Birthday and Deviled Egg Day (2nd), National Candy Day (4th), National Donut Day (5th), National Clean Your Refrigerator Day (14th) National Pack Your Mom�s Lunch Day (15th), Woody Woodpecker�s Birthday (25th), and National Stay at Home Day, Because You Are Well Today (30th); and you thought November was going to be a dull time. All kidding aside, dear readers; we are especially thankful for you. You put up with a lot of "Tom Foolery" sometimes from us; we enjoy putting it together, and hope you enjoy reading it. Now would be a good time to be thinking of a story to grace the pages of the Bodock Post; we would like to hear from you. Happy Thanksgiving from all of us here at the Bodock Post! ~ By Ralph Jones, Managing Editor Career Summary A Brief Look At Forty-Three Years The first year I worked for SUPERVALU was 1963, but back then the Indianola warehouse was known as the as Lewis Grocer Company. I worked in the meat department for Sunflower Food Store #43, a corporately owned store in Tupelo, MS. I remember three meat different specialists were assigned to our store during that year, Bill Stewart, Bill Jett, and John Carter. At the end of 1963, I returned to college to finish my education at The University of Mississippi. In the summer of 1967, Bill Stewart contacted me about providing relief work for market managers in his territory. I worked a two-week stint at Sunflower Food Store, Drew, Mississippi and another two weeks at Sunflower #67, West Point, MS. That same summer, I married the love of my life, Barbara Crouch of Ripley, MS. After teaching math in Ripley, Mississippi, I returned to Pontotoc in 1970, bringing my wife of three years, as well. I continued to teach school for the next two years and worked part time in the meat department for Sunflower #67 in Pontotoc. In August of 1973 I started as a full time employee in the meat department in Pontotoc. As market manager of the Pontotoc Sunflower Food Store, I consistently ran one of the most profitable meat departments of the thirty corporate Sunflower Food Stores in operation at that time. After nine years as a market manager, I was promoted to Meat Field Merchandiser in 1982 and assigned to supervise the meat departments of fifteen Sunflower Food Stores. John Pake was meat director for the Indianola Warehouse. I was one of nine corporate meat merchandisers reporting to Mr. Pake.
In December of 1989, I accepted the position of Point of Sale Coordinator for Lewis Grocer Company and was assigned an office in Indianola. Dave Pollard was Director of Retail Operations at that time for Lewis Grocer Company, and I reported to him. I had six different bosses over the next six years, and somehow, I managed to keep them all satisfied with my work in Retail Systems. After a major restructuring by SUPERVALU in 1995, Bob McGehee became my boss and remained in that position until my retirement. I grew up working in the meat department of my dad�s grocery store in Pontotoc, and cutting meat is still something I enjoy; it�s "in my blood." However, my years of teaching math left me with a desire to teach in whatever capacity I could. Thus, I found my work in Retail Systems the most rewarding of my years with Lewis Grocer Company and SUPERVALU. When I announced my retirement the first question on the lips of most people was, "What are your plans?" There is no short answer to this question, but if there were one, it would be, "Enjoy what�s left of my life." I get the impression a lot of folks expect me to pick up a part time job, but having worked the majority of my life, I�d like to not "work for a living" for a while. My favorite chair is a rocking chair, any rocking chair, but I don�t plan to sit down and rock away the remaining days of my life. Instead, I plan to become more involved as a volunteer with Habitat for Humanity in Pontotoc for at least as long as my wife is the director. And, with yard work and routine home maintenance, I will stay busy most of the months of the year. Winter may be a challenge, but perhaps I�ll write my memoir�s to pass the time. For the foreseeable future, I do plan to continue as publisher and co-editor of The Bodock Post, www.bodockpost.com. Throughout my career with SUPERVALU, I�ve met some wonderful people and formed good relationships with most of the retailers I�ve worked with. My work associates have been gracious to me in my every undertaking. When I embarked upon my career path years ago, I wasn�t sure where it would lead, but through all aspects, I can look back and see how God was working to bring about good in every situation. I haven�t always sought God�s will in my life, and some decisions were made without his blessing, but in spite of my stubbornness, he has always brought me to where he wanted me to be. I am richly blessed with family and friends, and for these and all of my blessings I am truly thankful. Addendum: On October 19, 2010, SUPERVALU hosted a retirement dinner for me, at which time Julie Tordik and Bob McGehee recognized my contributions to SUPERVALU. Among other forms of recognition, the service pin pictured above was also presented. ~ By Wayne L. Carter, Associate Editor & Publisher
A Winter Project Smell The Results My final, considered judgment is that the hardy bulb [garlic] blesses and ennobles everything it touches - with the possible exception of ice cream and pie. ~ Angelo Pellegrini While most gardeners are scurrying about buying and planting their spring flower bulbs, some of us are going quietly about planting yet another bulb: garlic. I am not talking about the flowering alliums. I am talking serious gardening for something to eat. Like other gardeners, there is quite a bit of sharing going on among fellow aficionados.
Last year I noted one vendor at the local farmers market brought a few dozen garlic bulbs to sell, which they did quickly to her surprise. She increased her crop this year with the same effect. Serious veggie gardener friend Ronny gardens for freezer and pantry. His family eats out of his garden. He loves to experiment. He even grows a few varieties of hops. Last year he had a successful crop of twenty-five varieties of garlic. This year he grew sixty-six varieties, but only a few of each and for personal consumption. He has inspired me to try. I am thinking six each of twenty-five varieties. That�s four wide in a two foot wide bed about forty feet long since spacing is at least four inches apart. They like rich organic soil which is damp but not wet. Raised beds should work well and making use of otherwise unused planting area in the winter is a good thing. This website will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about garlic and then some. http://www.gourmetgarlicgardens.com/index.htm Recent DNA tests reveal there are only ten distinct varieties. But then that same site sells forty varieties. You can order collections. With any luck at all, you will get one plant per clove, with each bulb having about six cloves. Some varieties are technically leeks, such as the elephant variety. You might want to add to your Life Bucket a visit to Gilroy, CA, the garlic capital of the USA. Most commercial garlic is raised and processed there. During processing season your nose will let you know you are there before you see the city limits sign on the 101. Well, all gardening is an experiment. Garlic is mine for this winter. ~ By Carl Wayne Hardeman, Editor Do The Right Thing Make A Difference The wonderful holiday we call Thanksgiving will be upon us in a jiffy. We should be thankful every hour of every day for our great and wonderful land. I for one am glad that our nation sets aside a day each year for just that purpose. We have been a most blessed country since tiny ships brought our forefathers, yearning to be free, to these shores. Some would say that it is because of the abundance of our natural recourses that has made the United States so great. However, if we look closely, South America is bursting at the seams with most, if not more, recourses than we enjoy. Why, then, is that country so less advanced than our nation? I personally believe that it is because of what our Lord has done on our behalf. Because of our Christian heritage, I believe he has built a wall of protection around our great nation. Godly people from Europe came to find religious freedom and settled our land, regardless of what the "politically correct" crowd would like for us to believe. They prayed as they landed and then went on to build churches even before their own homes. Our early governmental leaders wrote a constitution paying homage to God and revering the freedom of its people. Yes, our land was founded on Godly principles; however, South America was set up by their leaders in search of wealth and driven by greed. Not long before Dr. Adrian Rogers, pastor of Bellevue Baptist Church, stepped over into glory, he and I talked together at his home. As we walked in his front yard I posed a question to him. This was not long after several natural and man-made disasters had occurred here in our country. I asked him to tell me his feelings on all this destruction that had so recently besieged our fair land.
One only has to watch an evening of TV to see just how far down the ladder we have come from 1620 and the landing of the Pilgrims on our shores. Now, the Internet has opened an entirely new "can of worms," as it were, for not only our "Adult Viewers," but to our pre-teen youngsters as well. And don�t think they cannot find it or that a filter will keep them from the filth, they know all the tricks of getting wherever they want to on the computer. We must recapture our homes and plug the sewer that spews this trash in through our TV and computer. I am not giving up on our nation! The recent downturn has awakened many that were asleep. The "Powers-That-Be" are running amuck, seemingly in an effort to bring this nation to her knees with liberalism, socialism, and poverty. There is a recording group that performs some good music and I enjoy listening to them at times, their name, "Asleep at the Wheel." We are a great nation, however, we have been motivating along at a fast clip, disregarding all the warning signs; we have been asleep at the wheel. We cannot blame all that is happening in our land on just one administration, one president, nor one congress; no, we have been allowing ourselves to be boiled one degree at a time like the proverbial frog. We have allowed this to slip in, and then that, thinking it would all work itself out. But, it has only gotten worse and we are being rudely awakened by a government totally out of control, with no regard for our Lord and little regard for her citizens. Yes, we must awake, we must vote, we must take our country back. We must tell our government they work for us and we are not going to put up with their shenanigans any longer. I will not try to tell you who to vote for a, Democrat, Republican, Independent, or even a Dixiecrat; vote for the man or woman who will push for what is right, not just what is expedient. Vote for people who will see to it that our country comes back in line with the concepts our country was based upon. Vote for "RIGHT," regardless of what hat they wear, and if they have already served and are not voting and sponsoring items that go along with the "American Way," vote for someone else. We need to clean house in Washington, D.C. and let our governing bodies realize we are to be feared; not because of physical harm, but by an "X" on the voting ballot. Many of our representatives in government need to shape up or be shipped out to get a real job for a change. We sometimes speak of "Tough Love." This is one year we need to practice what we preach at the polls, love, yes; but it must be tough in some cases. I am thankful for a country where we still have the freedom to elect those who we desire to represent us in our government. Now go out and do the right thing; VOTE ! ~ By Ralph Jones, Managing Editor Worms And More A Gardening Idea In this day and time everyone seems to be into the green thing. This is a good thing as we need to replenish and replace as much of our natural resources as we can. One of the ways we can do this is by composting, and one of the composters� best friends is the red wiggler worm. Now earthworms work just fine, too, but the red wiggler is a harder worker than his cousin the earthworm. A good friend of mine had a worm box that he was going to keep his worms in but he put holes in the bottom of his box and guess what, yep you guessed it; they escaped. Worm boxes are really easy to make and you can make them as small or as large as you like. My personal worm box is one of those thirteen gallon blue tubs from Wal-Mart. I start by taking my drill with an1/8th inch drill bit and drilling thirty or forty holes in the lid. There are usually a couple of holes where the handles are and I put a small piece of duct tape over those holes. Next I put in about three shovels of peat moss (approximately a three gallon bucket full).
Keep in mind, don�t put meat scraps or dairy products in your worm box. Do not use any kind of vegetable or produce that makes you produce foul smelling air into your box either. Remember, if it makes you stink, it will make your box stink. Coffee grounds and tea bags are good items to use as well as egg shells. Now add about one hundred worms to this concoction and then shred another section of newspaper and add it to the top of this pile. Make sure you wet this newspaper also. Now you�re done making a worm box. You simply add more of the aforementioned veggies and such about once a week and make sure to add another section of newspaper once a month or so as it is needed. I add about a cup of water sprinkled over the top every week two. Worms also like cornmeal to eat, and I give mine about a cup every couple of weeks. Put the lid on and let your new found friends do the work. I do recommend that you leave your box in a lighted room for the first two weeks till the worms get acclimated to their new home. After that you can keep your box in a corner of your garage, basement, laundry room, or storage shed. If you put your box in a dark room before the worms get acclimated to their new home, they will try to escape. About every ninety days, lay some plastic out and dump your worm box out on to it. Put some fresh newspaper back in the box along with some fresh peat moss and a little bit of the old peat moss, put the worms back and some fresh veggies and your ready to start over again. Use the compost that you have left over to sprinkle around your plants or make a compost tea to water with. It will do wonders to replenish your soil with much needed nutrients. When you dump your box the second go around, you should notice that you have about twice as many worms as you started with. You can either start a new box to make more worm compost or put some of the worms in your flower beds and let them work there. As long as you give them plenty of leaves and mulch to cover the ground, they will work for you and be happy and never leave you. You can start with a smaller box if you want to; you just have to adjust the amount of each ingredient that you add. Ms. Janet and I do this program for school kids and some adult groups, and we use clear plastic shoeboxes from Dollar General. Remember that red wiggler worms are best and they can be found locally or ordered off the Internet. You can also buy them at most bait shops, but you can get them much cheaper from a worm farmer. If you have an interest in this program, contact the Union County Master Gardeners through the Union County Extension Service in New Albany, MS at 662-316-0088 or send me an email at [email protected] or find me on www.facebook.com/mastergardner Whitleather Is It Whit Or Whet
As I thought about the expression, I remembered I most often heard the word whit pronounced as whet. Once I learned about whet rocks, or whetstones, I usually chose whet whenever I needed to orally express the word whit. Yet, unsure of the correctness of whet leather and whit leather, I consulted a dictionary. I discovered both words are valid, but strangely there is no whetleather. The dictionary describes whitleather to be a variant of white leather and defines such as, a soft leather specially treated with salt and alum. Based on the definition of whitleather, I concluded that whet leather was probably the preferred form to use in describing the toughness of a substance. I may be entirely wrong about the matter, but I figure it all goes back to how we Southerners and more particularly those of us whose roots are rural, elect to abridge or corrupt certain words in pronunciation as well as meaning. My granddad Carter had an odd expression he used whenever he wanted someone to repeat a question or statement. Granddad, who had grown hard of hearing by the time I was old enough to pay attention, would cup his hand behind his ear to trap extra sound waves and respond, "Do which?" "Do which?" was Granddad's way of asking "what" or "what did you say?" If my dad was a whitter, I never knew it. However, he was a whetter. He was also a whittler, but I believe he spent more time whetting than whittling. Early in my life, I learned that Dad used an unusual stone that was perfectly flat to whet or sharpen his straight razor. The stone was smooth as glass and black as slate, less than a half-inch thick, and roughly the size of a greenback dollar. For knife sharpening, he used a coarser stone that he called a whet rock, which come to think of it was the same term he used for the stone employed in razor sharpening. I learned from the actions of my dad that whetting something had to do with a sharpening process. At some point in my formative years, I figured out that his use of a razor strap (also called razor strop) was a form of whetting. Actually, it was whetting when the strap was used properly, but a whopping or a whipping may more aptly describe an alternate use for the device. For fine honing the cutting edge of a razor, leather is an excellent choice. My dad's razor strap had a cloth section as well as a leather section. The leather section was a quarter-inch thick slab of rhinoceros hide, two and a half inches wide and twenty-four inches long. The canvas-like cloth part was much thinner but the other dimensions were the same. One end of the two pieces of material was fastened with a half-moon metal clasp through which a metal brad was centered. A closed loop swivel and snap topped off the clasp, allowing it to be hung on a nail or snapped to a wire or ring. Not all razor straps are the same. In yesteryears, I saw straps made using three different whetting surfaces. I have also seen straps that instead of being completely rectangular had a section carved out near the end of the strap to better fit into the palm of a hand of the user. Don't list me as an authority on razor straps for I certainly am not. I have merely described to you some that I have seen and sometimes felt. I have touched on the use of the razor strap for corporal punishment and should point out that though Dad was prone to pick it up from time to time, largely to threaten his children, he was more likely to dole out any punishment due us with his leather belt. For purposes of intimidation, Dad would hold the razor strap by each end and push the ends toward the center causing the leather and canvas sections to arch in opposite directions. Once they achieved the maximum distance from each other, he would rapidly snap his hands away from each other causing the sections of the razor strap to slam together with a sharp report. The sound of the strap could produce a spasmodic shiver that began at one's head and culminated at one's toes. Mom, on the other hand, found the strap too unwieldy and would reach for a switch. A switch, for those who are unfamiliar with the device was a slender branch, about three feet in length, torn from a hedge or tree and stripped of all foliage and twigs. Peach tree limbs made excellent, albeit fearsome, switches. Though we moved many times in my childhood, I don't believe we ever lived where there was a shortage of switches or the ever present razor strop. ~ By Wayne L. Carter, Associate Editor & Publisher What Have We Done It's So Frustrating Mr. Bell Mr. Watson, come here, I want to see you. Who knew what would happen after those famous words were spoken by Alexander Graham Bell on March 10, 1876. Although Mr. Bell lived on until 1922, he could not have known where this invention of his would lead. Had he known what would transpire after all these years with the telephone he might have told Mr. Watson, "Sorry wrong number." With every man, woman, boy and girl, even small children, possessing a wireless phone these days, one wonders if the phone�s evolution is over or just ready to take off. It seems these little instruments are in every hand, pocket, even attached to, or inserted in the ear. Could Mr. Bell have envisioned the frustration thrust upon us by this pesky little device? Just recently while walking down the hallway of our church, a man walking behind me called my name and mumbled something. I turned to answer him only to realize he was talking on a micro-mini phone attached to his ear. He was walking fast with his head down and evidently calling another person by my same name. I expect he got the other person because he went off into the distance still muttering unintelligible words to someone. Years ago if you heard and saw a person talking like that, you�d call the loony bin and have him locked up, or at least tested. Other adults would look at him curiously and children would be told to give him a wide birth. "Son, sumpin�s wrong with that feller, his head�s all messed up," you might hear a parent say. Today it�s just a common occurrence to hear someone talking (loudly) about their recent operation, or an alcoholic neighbor, or a recent bachelor party, all there in the check-out line of Wally World. Also, another common practice is for some dingbat to be driving down a busy street talking up a storm and paying little attention to their driving. That car in the fast land that should be going sixty, and is doing only thirty, chances are, has a person with a cell phone stuffed in his ear. I have personally observed ladies putting on make-up and talking on the phone while driving down a busy boulevard. There was a fellow I met one morning shaving, talking on the phone, all while driving to work. If they are not smart enough to know that�s very dangerous, are they really smart enough to retain their driver�s license? I�ve threatened to get me a sign that says, "Shut up, hang up, and drive." Sooner or later, we may have a "chip" implanted in our ear lobe that will let us send and receive messages without all the paraphernalia associated with the modern wireless phone. Don�t get me wrong, I think the cell phone is a wonderful tool and a marvelous invention. I�m old enough to remember when we had a six or eight party line that answered to one long and two short rings, or such. There was not too much privacy there. Someone on the party line might be listening in on your conversation. If a person on your party line was long winded, it might take half an hour to make a call. From the time I was about nine years old (1946) we had one of the old rotary type, standard black telephone sitting on the dresser. Where we lived at the time determined if we were on a party line or not. However, the same set moved with us wherever we went.
There was a time, and not too long ago, that if you did not have a "land line" with a set in several rooms of your home, you were out of touch; a desk set in the living room, a wall phone in the kitchen and a lighted "Princess Phone" on the night stand. Now, more and more folks are opting off that "little bright wire." Soon, land lines may be as obsolete as the telephone booth. Mr. Bell did you think this thing all the way through? If you had any idea of all the many politically motivated calls, ones asking for a donation, ones wanting you to volunteer, or partake in a survey of some kind; would you have continued the work? When these calls came in while you were eating a meal, enjoying a favorite program, or at another inconvenient time; would we have the phone today? Possibly not! Even with all the advantages the phone gives us today, you might have told Mr. Thomas Watson to disregard that last message and work on something worthwhile for a change. Those famous words might have been, "What on earth have we done Mr. Watson?" ~ By Ralph Jones, Managing Editor God Sends �em Humor Found In Home Repairs Is it just me or does humor follow me around like the plague or what? I learned a long time ago that when bad things happen to you, they usually happen for a reason. These bad things are put in your path to teach you something, so do your best to make the most of it, learn from it and if you can find something humorous in each situation when it comes�go with that; it�ll make life easier. Last week [in my column], I shared my story with you about my house getting painted by a former cosmos-to-lo-gist and her husband. Well, despite all the laughter and hullabaloo that went on for the week, they actually did a good job; or so I thought. Upon closer inspection from across the street, I found that the new brown architectural roof now had two large patches of white overspray on them. I knew if I saw it, my landlady would too and she would be upset since the roof was less than a year old; I was right. When the painters left that Saturday afternoon I thought they were gone for good. The man however, showed back up in about an hour with a can of dark brown spray paint. He placed his ladder quite noisily against the front soffit again and proceeded to spray paint the white overspray brown. Now, for those of you who are familiar with architectural shingles you know that those type singles are never just one color but a blend of several shades and hues of the main color. "Mr. Painter" evidently didn�t realize this and when he finished spraying, the shingles they were no longer white with the overspray from the trim but now they were a nice chocolate brown color but only in certain spots. It looked like a water balloon filled with chocolate had burst on the front eave of the house. When Miss Susie came by after work late that afternoon, she was even more upset about the brown spray paint than she�d been with the white overspray. She called the contractor immediately and explained the situation. He told her that he was insured and was very sorry for the inconvenience and he that he would have the shingles replaced ASAP. In the meantime however, the painter, not knowing the contractor was going to have the singles replaced, came back over with another color of brown spray paint and tried to �fix� his second mistake. (His first was the white overspray) By this time, you would have thought a three ring circus had moved into the neighborhood. The neighbors were beginning to break out their lawn chairs and watch the artist paint the roof from their front lawns. I considered baking a cake and putting on a pot of coffee, after all, I�d never seen anything like this �professional� before either. He left shorted after that, and I began my wait for the roofers to start banging on my roof.
After about thirty minutes of banging and shouting I made my way outside with a cup of hot coffee to see what was going on and to inspect the work. Low and behold, I could hardly believe my eyes; up on the roof was the same man who had made the mess in the first place with a hammer in his hand nailing on shingles. Holy Moley, this man must be a jack of all trades! Although the �roofer� was the same man who had painted himself into this mess, his helper was now his son Josh, instead of his wife the cosmos-to-lo-gist. Well, maybe the kid knew what he was doing; I had my doubts about the painter/roofer at this point. I walked out into the front yard just as my neighbors across the street called out and asked if there was a leak in my roof. I crossed the street and shared with Brandon and Amanda the same story I told ya�ll last week and continued on with the one I am sharing with you here today. When we all three finally paused in our laughter Brandon looked at me and said, "You know Miss Clarene, this would make a good true story because no one could make up stuff like this." I agreed and then shared with them that I write a weekly column in my hometown newspaper and about how God sends me things to write about each week and they both agreed that this one was too funny to keep from my readers. We talked a minute or two longer as the banging on my roof continued before I walked back across the street to my house. As I was walking up my front steps, I overheard the painter/roofer yell out to his son, "Josh, �bout an hour from now and we�ll be done with this and you can go." At the exact same time, a small tin bucket with nails slid off the roof spilling into the shrubs on the left side of the doorsteps. I couldn�t help myself�I�m sorry folks, but I just had to add my two cents worth. "Hey Josh, scratch that hour thing, it might take ya�ll a little longer." Brandon and Amanda from across the street must have overheard me because all I could hear as I closed my front door was the two of them laughing hysterically. See what I�m talking about. The stories just come�God sends �em, and I write �em. I thank you God for allowing me to see and hear humor in its rawest forms and for allowing me to be a part of it. By the way, it took the painters the better part of five hours to finish the gable. I sure hope this new roof will pass inspection for their sakes and mine. ~ By Clarene Evans, Contributor
Bubba Bodock Through A Child's Eyes Perhaps you�ll enjoy these humorous anecdotes shared by one of our readers. While I sat in the reception area of my doctor's office, a woman rolled an elderly man in a wheelchair into the room. As she went to the receptionist's desk, the man sat there, alone and silent. Just as I was thinking I should make small talk with him, a little boy slipped off his mother's lap and walked over to the wheelchair. Placing his hand on the man's, he said, 'I know how you feel. My mom makes me ride in the stroller too.' **************** As I was nursing my baby, my cousin's six-year-old daughter, Krissy, came into the room. Never having seen anyone breast feed before, she was intrigued and full of all kinds of questions about what I was doing. After mulling over my answers, she remarked, 'My mom has some of those, but I don't think she knows how to use them.'
Cuzin' Cornpone A Bodock Post Exclusive Cuzin' Cornpone, our loveable, often laughable, friend appears only here in The Bodock Post.
Our Mission Purpose - The Bodock Post It is our desire to provide a monthly newsletter about rural living with photographs of yesterday and today, including timely articles about conservative politics, religion, food, restaurant reviews, gardening, humor, history, and non-fiction columns by folks steeped in our Southern lifestyle.
Copyright � 2010 ~ The Bodock Post. Return to home page. Open This Issue with MS Word
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Did someone sneak in and steal most
of the summer? What happened to September and October? They say that time
really flies as you get older; I must be getting real old.
Early in 1989, I had the opportunity to become a District Manager,
or as titled today, a Retail Business Consultant, and I supervised total
store operations of several stores in western Tennessee and northern Mississippi,
all supplied by Lewis Grocer Company.
By the way, Southern folklore says we plant our flower bulbs the
Saturday after Thanksgiving. The ground is not frozen, yet it is cold enough
so no young shoots will sprout and freeze. That is true for garlic, too.
He said he did not feel that it was God�s doings, as some
folks believed. However, he did feel that the Lord was removing his protective
hands from our country. The protection we have had by the fence He has built
around us is coming down because of all the sin of our nation. My pastor
went on to say that the Lord did not have to do anything to punish us, all
He had to do was to get out of the way, and let us out from under His protection
and we would have plenty of calamities. I cannot agree more.
The next thing to do is to shred some newspaper (approximately
two Pontotoc Progresses or New Albany Gazettes or a couple of sections of
the Daily Journal). The newspaper needs to be wet, but not soaking wet. Take
some scraps from your local salad bar, (lettuce, carrots, cucumbers, squash),
and put about two handfuls in your tub.
It was a conversation with my wife that
prompted me to reflect on the meaning of whitleather. Barbara related that
she heard someone describe someone or something, "as tough as whitleather."
The folks admitted to not be certain what whitleather was.
After Mom and Dad stepped over
into glory, I called Ma Bell and asked for permission to take the phone as
a memento. They said that I could, just as soon as they received my fifty
dollars. I did not like that and told them so, here Dad had paid rent on
that same set for over forty years, and they were still going to make a charge
for taking the silly thing. He had paid for the set hundreds of times over
through his rent. Not being a thief, I begrudgingly paid the money and took
the phone. I have it sitting on a dresser of theirs in my home, as it did
so many years ago. Mr. Bell, will you see if you can get my money back?
Almost a whole week went by before
they showed up to fix the painter�s fiasco. Finally, on Friday morning,
bright and early, I heard the familiar sound of a ladder noisily being
�plunked� into place against the soffit outside�AGAIN.
The roofers had arrived. I knew it would take them a little while to
do the job right as the entire gable would have to be replaced. There would
be no more �fix up-patch up� jobs on this new roof if I knew Miss
Susie.
