RRN Online Volume 15

September 26 '96

Volume 15

Rayanne’s Place Belmont Or Bust

I was more or less prompted to visit my Belmont daughter this past Saturday, in that Barbara had purchased a few new clothes for our granddaughter, Anna, and wanted to see if they would fit. Since Rayanne and Anson had now had enough time to get their things moved and to have completed all the painting and such, I agreed that it was time to gather the "ooh and ah" gang and pay a visit to my daughter. Sarah and Felicia rode over with Barbara and me. Our travel time one way was 1 1/4 hours. Belmont is located on Hwy. 25 approximately 25 miles north of Fulton, MS.

The house looked fine to me, both inside and out, except the roof needs to be re-shingled soon. It is in their plans to have this done, as finances permit. I did notice a lot of painted paneling in the den, kitchen, and hall areas. I personally prefer to leave paneling as is, unless for some reason I want to replace it with sheetrock and paint. I know the economical method is to paint the paneling, and if someone wants to do their house that way, then I don’t mind. It is just a matter of personal preference, not that one is better than the other. The yard is shaded by several types of trees that rob the grass on much of the lawn of sufficient sunshine. Anson is working on getting Zoysia grass established in the shaded areas, since it will perform better than Bermuda and some other varieties in shady regions.

The hardwood floor that Rayanne and Anson had installed in the kitchen area did look really nice. There were plenty of grapevine do-dads strewn on walls, as well as numerous other "crafty" decorations, to give the place the look and feel of a home of a "want-a-be" interior decorator. A couple of these that I recall are a glassless, pictureless, picture frame that contained a 3 dimensional dried flower creation, and the guest bathroom sported an open, birdless, birdcage that now was home to an artificial vine and flower arrangement. In fact, now that I think about it, I did see a number of set-abouts, and I remember thinking at the time that Rayanne must have inherited some of the genes or her great-grandmother Nona, who like her spinster sister had a penchant for collectable set-abouts.

Aunt Dink Vaughan, now if there was ever an individual who deserved to be considered a study of curiosity, certainly Dink filled the bill in our family. Geneologically speaking, a grandaunt, Aunt Dink never married. She lived most of her life with her unmarried brother, Dile (pronounced Dial) Vaughan, not an uninteresting subject, himself, who remained a bachelor until age 67, whereupon in a moment of questionable sanity, married a widow who had been his teenage heart throb. Dink.... a woman whose full head of hair I never saw until she was confined to a nursing home, always kept her hair under a neatly tied bandanna. She wore clothing that was quite manly in appearance, usually a plaid shirt and men’s trousers.

My Dad was somewhat prone to attribute his children’s shortcomings to my Mom’s side of the family. Perhaps, rightly so.

Our granddaughter was spending the weekend with her dad in Pontotoc, who has recently remarried. The person that he married is a mother of a toddler aged son. Anna enjoys seeing after small children, and it is a good thing because her new grandmother Adams, in Belmont, keeps several small children of working moms. I think Anna pretty much rules, when she is at the Adams’ house.

Rayanne prepared a lunch of subway style sandwiches, and topped the lunch with hot brownies and ice cream for all who cared to indulge. Believe it or not; I declined the dessert. Normally, I would partake of such fare, but a late breakfast of buttered biscuits covered with chocolate sauce had abated my usual craving for sweets. A close inspection or measurement of my waistline would further discourage additional indulgences.

We departed shortly after lunch and arrived in Pontotoc around three-ish. I had wanted to stop at the Mall at Barnes Crossing in Tupelo and shop for Christmas cards, but none of my passengers seemed interested in venturing into the Mall for any of their needs, so we sped by, knowing that, as a moth is drawn to a candle flame, we, too, would soon be drawn into the shopping craze we call the Holiday Season. May we fare better than the moth!

Come Worship

Our worship service Sunday morning was again marred by the courtship of religion and politics, a practice that has been all to commonplace over the past year and a half. A practice that our past leadership of a "moderate" rather than "fundamentalist" persuasion was able to circumvent. Supporters of a constitutional amendment allowing voluntary prayer in Public Schools peddled their wares, this time asking that the congregation support their efforts by signing letters of petition to Richard Armory of the US Congress.

In my own Church, I sometimes feel as though I reside in Germany prior to World War II, where the powers that be suppress all doctrine or sentiment, save that which is pleasing to their own ears. I seem to dwell in a place where no forum exists for the open expression of opposing views. Before I am corrected by an astute reader, I readily admit that the monthly business meeting nights do provide a somewhat democratic forum for free expression. However, I would point out that but a fraction of the Sunday morning congregation, ever attends a business meeting session. From a democratic, Baptist perspective, if Sunday morning is a good time to promote political views, then it must follow that it is a good time to present the views of any and all whose view detracts. Therefore, I yield no ground on my statement concerning Sunday morning speech suppression or oppression.

Admittedly, I am not a class valedictorian, as some may boast, but I possess the ability to absorb and digest information, as well as form an opinion based on the facts as I understand them. I was prepared to respond to any who might solicit my signature on a form letter, after the Church service, by admonishing the solicitor that I was perfectly capable of drafting my own letter on the subject, should I be so inclined. Though, inwardly, I wanted to cry out to the masses and warn them of the possible repercussions of their lack of sound thinking; my kinder-gentler nature prevailed. After all, each individual has a perfect right to be wrong if he so chooses. I exited the building without incident.

Snickerdoodle Doings

Sunday, the 22nd of September, just happened to be the first day of the Autumn. Is it just me or have you noticed that, for the first half of our lives, the seasons changed precisely on the 21st day of the months of September, December, March, and June, but in recent years the date of the event may occur from the 20th to the 23rd. Apparently last Sunday also coincided with a certain juxtaposition of planets or perhaps some other celestial event, for my sister felt inspired to produce a batch of her famous snickerdoodle cookies. If you can picture an ultra-thin tea cake cookie topped with a generous sprinkling of cinnamon & sugar, as it melts smoothly and succulently amid naturally occurring saliva to electrify the taste receptors of the tongue, then you have mentally captured the essence of a snickerdoodle. Fortunate are those who experience the sensation in "live" mode, with fresh from the oven, still warm cookies. Unfortunately for me, the constraints of time prevented the preparation of a full batch of snickerdoodles prior to our departure to the Delta. The short supply is not likely to last until the weekend.

Sara’s Snickerdoodles

1 Cup Shortening (Crisco)
1 1/2 Cup Sugar (Domino)
2 Large Eggs (hen)
Cream together the above ingredients.

Add the following:
2 3/4 Cup Flour (Self-Rising)
1 tsp. Baking Soda
2 tsp. Cream of Tartar
1/2 tsp. Salt (Only if Plain Flour is used.)

Roll very thin, add extra flour as needed. Cut. Sprinkle with mixture of cinnamon and sugar.
Bake 400° F. until cookies rise then fall. Cookies are done almost immediately after the fall. Do not overcook.
Remove from oven. Serve with coffee or hot chocolate.

Red Fish Fishin’

My fishing buddies in Houston and Vicksburg are READY. We depart October 14, for Chauvin, LA, which be 12 or 10 mile south of Houma, I gar-on-tee. We gonna catcha some a’dem big reds. (My dialect will be better after the trip.)

Connie Gordon, a new fan of Ridge Rider News, tells me she can’t wait to read of the trip and particularly my impressions of a friend of Lee’s from Clinton who will be joining the expedition. I am expecting plenty of wholesome fun, some good natured ribbing, and an overdose of Cajun cooking.

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