My sister says that bad things happen in threes. I doubt there’s
anything scientific about her statement, but I’m inclined to agree with
her. If there is a similar admonition concerning good things, I’m not
aware of it. However, I can say with respect to Collegiate Challenge and
Pontotoc County Habitat for Humanity, good things came in threes this year.
This year, for three straight weeks, college students from three separate
institutions of higher learning traveled to Pontotoc to work as volunteers
on two houses being constructed for two deserving families. The first group
flew in from Brunswick, Maine, the second drove over from Georgia and the
third drove down from Chicago. The first two groups were a delight for all
who met them or worked with them. The third and most recent group was no
less delightful than the others, and may have been more diverse. Of the ten
students from the University of Illinois at Chicago, there were two students
from India, two from Korea, and one from Puerto Rico.
There was considerable diversity among the degrees which the students were
seeking. Priya and Maggie (picture on page 2) are striving for medical degrees,
with Priya wanting to be a Physicians Assistant and Maggie an MD. Korean
natives, Beckie and Sarah (their American names) are Business majors. Lisa,
the runt of the litter (also the group’s leader) is majoring in Nutrition.
Greg, the lone accounting major, aspires to become a CPA. Archit, from India,
is studying to become a Computer Engineer. Carla is majoring in Education
and Rana, pronounced to rhyme with Brenna, is seeking a Masters in MIS
(Information Services). Last, but not least, Sam or Samantha, is working
on a graduate degree in Sociology.
Keith Thomas, construction supervisor had words of praise for the work effort
of all the groups and noted of the Chicago group, "None of them knew what
to do when they got here, but they all stepped up to the task and were willing
to do anything I asked them to do."
In the four days they worked on the job site, the group was able to get the
house framed and almost "in the dry." Of course, these inexperienced carpenters
were well supervised by Keith and his assistant Rachel Walker and
a couple of local volunteers.
My time of association with the volunteers was limited to the evening meals
that coincided with nights both the students and I were in Pontotoc. Lutheran
Episcopal Services of Mississippi provided a spaghetti dinner for Sunday
night. A Sunday School class at First Baptist, Pontotoc served a Cajun variation
on fish and hushpuppies Monday night. I was out of town Tuesday night but
back in time for a pulled pork dinner at First Presbyterian Church, Pontotoc.
The group spent Thursday sightseeing in Memphis. A children’s group
from First Methodist, Pontotoc and their leaders served the volunteer group
another spaghetti dinner Friday night.
It’s worth noting the cooks who prepared the fish and hushpuppies Monday
night also prepared some deep-fat fried jalapeno peppers, which they elected
not to serve.
"We fried some jalapenos," Neal Anderson commented before the volunteers
arrived, "but they’re too hot to serve anybody."
"Where are they? I want to try one," I bragged.
Picking up a small sliced pepper that had been battered and fried, I bit
off perhaps a fourth of it.
"That’s not bad,"
I exclaimed, but as I swallowed, the capsaicin enflamed everything it touched
in the back of my throat.
I struggled to get the words out, "Now, I feel it," as I coughed involuntarily.
Either Nancy Maxey or Allen Maxey told me to eat some sugar and it would
alleviate the burning sensation. Skeptically, I opened a packet of sugar
and emptied part of it into my mouth. As soon as it melted sufficiently,
I swallowed and was amazed at how quickly the burning subsided. There have
been other times in my life this method of pain-prevention would have also
proved useful.
Barbara noted at the end of the week how different the group of volunteers
had become during the week. When they first arrived, they didn’t have
a lot to say and were relatively quiet, but as the week progressed they began
to open up and share their thoughts more and more.
To accommodate the groups request to attend a rodeo in Pontotoc on Friday
night, the closing ceremony was held in the middle of the afternoon. I
wasn’t there, but Barbara stated the group shared they were overwhelmed
by the hospitality shown them throughout the week and agreed their experiences
during the week made them want to participate in more such volunteer projects.
My sentiments are those of Keith Thomas, who at the closing ceremony thanked
everyone for the work they had done and concluded with, "I’d just like
to keep every single one of you down here."
Steak Night Searching
For The Longhorn
It had been a cold, windy day for fishing. Normally, either condition would
have been sufficient to frustrate the average fisherman, but our foursome
prides itself as being above average. I’m confident the light catch
for the day was a reflection of adverse fishing conditions and not our collective
skill as bass fishermen.
We arrived back at our lodging with only enough time to wash the scent of
fish off our hands before heading into town in search of a meal. Lee had
mentioned he was in the mood for a steak. Gordon and Jim were, as usual,
unconcerned over dinner choices. None of us knew of a steakhouse in the area,
so we stopped at a local Sunflower Food Store to ask for a recommendation.
I was nominated to go inside.
The store manager was in the office helping a couple of folks who were purchasing
a money order, so I asked a couple of bagboys standing around the register
area, "Can you tell me where I can get a good steak in Kosciusko?"
The first lad deserves at least a commendation for his response, "Yes Sir!
We have some good steaks right here in our meat case."
"No, you don’t understand," I laughed in responding, "I want an already
cooked steak."
"Well, I don’t know…" he hesitated in thought. "There’s a
Mexican place that also serves steak, and it’s pretty good."
My last experience with a Mexican restaurant left me and the Lord with an
understanding. If he’d allow me to survive the bout of severe diarrhea
that followed an evening of Mexican cuisine, I’d see to it that I
didn’t eat at another Mexican restaurant.
"What about Penn’s?" I inquired of a restaurant near a motel at which
I had stayed.
"It’s mostly chicken tenders and catfish," he replied.
However, the second bagboy suggested a really good steakhouse several miles
out of town. He wasn’t sure of the name or how to get there, so he got
the manager’s attention.
"What’s the name of the steakhouse out by the college…Long something?"
"Longhorn," came the reply.
"What’s the best way to get there?" he asked.
A customer volunteered the information. I made a decent mental note, thanked
everyone, and returned to the truck.
"Go back the way we came," I shared, "and turn left at the third red light.
That’s Hwy 43, then take a right on Hwy 14. It’s several miles
from town and on the right."
The problem with those directions was there wasn’t a Hwy. sign to indicate
the street was Hwy 43. We drove through the intersection and stopped at a
convenience store, where Lee went inside for a second opinion.
Lee reported, "He said stay on 12 until we get to McAdams, and turn left
on the new road. That road intersects with Hwy 14 and the steakhouse is on
the right at the intersection."
"Oh, yeah," I mused silently, "This is gonna be an adventure. How are we
gonna tell a new road from an old road at night."
Lee continued, "He said the sign where we turn says Goodman."
Sure enough, when we got to McAdams, there was no sign pointing us to Goodman
and no way to see a "new road." I shared that we could continue along Hwy.
12 until we got to Durant, then drive south to Goodman, but Lee spotted a
state-road sign a few miles west of McAdams, and we headed southward. We
followed the highway through Sallis and finally arrived at Hwy 14. Supposing
the restaurant lay somewhere east of where we were, Lee sped us on our merry
way. After driving about four miles without seeing a restaurant, we turned
around and retraced our journey back to where we connected to Hwy 14 and
continued all the way to Goodman without finding the now fabled steakhouse.
We gave up the quest and returned to Kosciusko along Hwy 14 and Hwy 43, arriving
at the red light, where we had first been instructed to turn. The hour was
late; it was almost nine o’clock. We had spent an hour and a half searching
for a steakhouse we would later learn was open only on Thursday, Friday,
and Saturday nights, and we had driven over seventy-five miles looking for
it. Needless to say, the Wendy’s fast food restaurant was looking pretty
good to us.
The sign on the entrance indicated the restaurant was open until 10:30, so
we ambled inside, and each of us ordered a chicken sandwich combo meal. It
was a far cry from a steak dinner, but it was filling, especially after the
Frosty that Lee and I each had for a dessert.
Back at the Baptist retreat everyone was ready to get in bed. Jim had told
Lee and me, after we arrived that morning that we wouldn’t need our
blankets or sleeping bags, as our beds were ready. I took that to mean ready
as in the beds were "made." I had visited the bathroom and was returning
to our bedroom when I saw Gordon had stripped his bed.
"What in the world are you doing?" I asked.
"Making my bed," he replied, before bursting into laughter at the expression
he said I had on my face.
About then, I saw he had two flat sheets and a pillowcase that he was about
to put on the bed.
I flipped the spread back on my bed to discover no sheets were on it. My
disappointment gave me the chance to give Jim Hess a little grief concerning
our accommodations.
"Hess! Get in here!" I ordered above the laughter of my bunkmate.
Entering, Jim asked, "Yes…?"
"These beds aren’t made! And, while I’m not too good to make my
own bed, I refuse to do so tonight. I’ll put my sleeping bag on the
bed, but I’m not making it out."
"That’s fine; whatever you want to do," Jim calmly responded, taking
my criticism quite well.
As we crawled into our respective beds, I asked Gordon what time he wanted
to get up and set the alarm on the clock radio, accordingly. Lying in the
darkness, I reflected on the events of the day. Minutes later, I heard the
sound of snoring in the adjacent room.
"Hess must already be asleep," I remember thinking, "I’m glad I shut
our door to deaden the sound.
With that, I turned on my side with my good ear to the pillow and was soon
asleep.
Note: Read the concluding article of this series next week.
Board Decision Smoking
Ban Approved
On Tuesday, April 1, 2008, the Board of Aldermen for the city of Pontotoc,
Mississippi, passed an ordinance banning smoking in all public buildings
in the city. It was a bright day for the overly health conscious petitioners
who had sought the ban and a black one for American freedom, particularly
freedom from oppression.
Ignoring the fact that many businesses and restaurants in the city are already
non-smoking facilities, a choice freely made by the owners of said businesses
and restaurants, and the fact that all government facilities are non-smoking,
the Board of Aldermen voted to strike freedom of choice from the rights of
the business owners.
Sadly, there are too many citizens in this country who are willing to sell
their own freedom while denying certain freedoms to others. Apparently, the
Board of Aldermen feels there are individuals in Pontotoc whose ignorance
regarding exposure to second hand smoke renders them incapable of choosing
a non-smoking section in a restaurant and are therefore in need of the
controlling influence of big brother.
The average citizen in Pontotoc will not be adversely affected by the
board’s decision, but then neither is the frog in the pot of water being
heated on the fire, until it’s too late to do something about it. Citizens
who allow the erosion of individual freedoms will one day discover they have
no freedoms.
This time, the board’s decision limited the rights of smokers and business
owners. However, since obesity among all age groups is a growing concern,
the next freedom denied to citizens of Pontotoc may restrict whether or not
obese persons can be served in a restaurant. After all, the Board of
Aldermen’s decision to ban smoking in public places was based on their
interpretation of the "public good."
Bodock Beau Playing
Church
A new spin on an old joke is always welcomed. While we’ve shared other
instances on the theme of "Baptizing a Cat," this one, shared by Kim Goslin,
is a little different.
Johnny's Mother looked out the window and noticed him "playing church" with
their cat. He had the cat sitting quietly and he was preaching to it.
She smiled and went about her work. A while later she heard loud meowing
and hissing and ran back to the open window to see Johnny dousing the cat
in a tub of water.
She called out, "Johnny, stop that! The cat is afraid of water!"
Johnny looked up at her and said, "He should have thought about that before
he joined my church."
My sister says that bad things happen in threes. I doubt there’s
anything scientific about her statement, but I’m inclined to agree with
her. If there is a similar admonition concerning good things, I’m not
aware of it. However, I can say with respect to Collegiate Challenge and
Pontotoc County Habitat for Humanity, good things came in threes this year.
"That’s not bad,"
I exclaimed, but as I swallowed, the capsaicin enflamed everything it touched
in the back of my throat.
