Weddings

Several weeks ago, we received (via e-mail) an invitation to the wedding of a friend from the great State of Ohio. This invitation was unique due to the fact that the entire wedding party was traveling several hundreds of miles to the resort community of Sunser Beach, North Carolina for the nuptials. Far from the lavish and formal affairs one considers when thinking of a union between man and woman, this bonding to be held on the soft, damp sand on the beach of the Atlantic Ocean; and barefoot, no less. Possibly, the main reason that this spot was chosen is that it was the bride’s home for many years and is still an option of a vacation get-away for her and her family.

Over the years, Sue and I have witnessed gala weddings that, from all indications, cost thousands of dollars and later ended in divorce after a short trial period. In my frugal mind, these pompous ceremonies do not insure a perpetual relationship.

As proof of this thinking, I offer the joining together of a couple in marriage over fifty-three years ago. The chosen Minister was aware of the financial status of the couple, therefore, he and his wife suggested their home for the site of the joining of these two into the bonds of matrimony. The witnesses to the event consisted only  family and a few friends. Sparse decorations of available flowers and greenery from their yard along with a few candles adorned the mantel and the table that held a homemade cake.

This documentation is not intended to prove that we have had a picture-perfect marriage for fifty-three years. Nay! We, like all couples, have had our up’s and down’s but have survived them. Now, in our golden years, we can look back and realize that we would not have been any happier if we had had the means to spend thousands of dollars and “do it up” right.

Incidentally, Sue and I can appreciate Tina’s elective decision for Sunset Beach to be the ideal place for her wedding since this barrier island on the coast of North Carolina was our home from June 1991 until October 2005 and it was here that we first met Tina and her family.
John

Fodder

Yesterday, my lovely roommate dispatched me to the local produce market for some fresh corn. Now, you all know me. I simply can’t keep my mouth shut. I must make a weak attempt to find humor in any and all situations.

Upon entry into the 94 year old building, the vivacious young owner asked if she could help me. I made an effort to appear serious when I replied, “Yes; I have been sent for four ears of corn and a bundle of fodder.” By the look on her face, it was evident that she did not know what I was talking about and she finally asked; “What is fodder?” However, her husband, who was manning the scales and register, apparently was familiar with the drudgery of stripping the leaves from cornstalks to be used for food for horses and mules.

This incident brought to mind that there are many people who are on the near side of fifty years old that know nothing of the unpleasant chores required of folks that depended on what could be raised on a farm for their subsistence. It was not a matter of running to the local supermarket for items that were needed. In most cases, “You raised it or you done without.”

Corn, for example, was a necessary staple. It was planted in early Spring and nurtured until ears formed on the stalks. When the silks on the ears turned brown, corn was picked for human consumption. The leaves were then stripped from the stalks , bundled and allowed to dry for animal food. The remaining ears were left to dry on the stalks to be gathered in the Fall for more animal food and, most importantly, to be shelled and ground into cornmeal and grits.

Cornmeal was converted into cornbread and was a dietary staple for most families along with other vegetables that were either canned or otherwise preserved during the Summer months,

It was, at best, a hard life but as most seniors will assure you, there are no permanent scars in evidence on anyone who was raised on a farm “back when.”

No research was needed for this article simply because I was there.

John

A-totein’ off

A while ago, Susie Mae sez to me; “Jay Henry honey, why’ont we’uns up an’ send Maggie an’ Brother a invite to come down hear an’ git them some good rations fer a spell. You know they ain’t had nothing to eat but wennies an’ loaf bread ever sence Brother got laid off an’ ‘sides, they ain’t done nothin’ lak as well as us’ens.”

I sez to her, I sez, Susie Mae, why’ont you jus’ traipse off down to th’ store an’ ring them up on th’ telephone ‘cause you know that they boff has trouble reading anything that ain;t got pitchers on hit.”

Susie Mae, she grabbed her bonnet and leff rite atter tellin’ me to take ole Bear an’ go down to th’ creek an pick a mess of Polk Sallit an’ Wild Onions an’ to dig a sack of chitlins outten th’ ice box an she would make her famus Chitlin Caseroll fer’um.

Whenst she got back, she sez to me, “Jay Henry honey, you know that I’se got way yonder too many frocks a’hangin on my nail an’ I beleve I’ll give some uv them to Maggie. They store don’t carry all them perty feed sacks an’ I misdoubt that she cud run up a frock outen’um iffen they did.”

Hit wont but a little bit ‘fore they driv up an’ boff uv them ‘peared to be holler to th’ toes. Susie Mae, knowed that Maggie purely loved to “try on” so she had took a whole bunch uv her ole frocks offen her nail an’ spred them out on th’ bed.

B’then they had got outten th’ truck, Brother commenced a’diggin’ in th’ ice box an’ Maggie jus’ flew in the other room a’pullin off her ole frock as she went. I knowed rite then that she were looking fer some uv Susie Mae’s perty frocks to wear to Big Meetin.”

Well’sr, they stayed all nite an when they leff nex mornin’, they had th back end uv they truck plumb full uv sacks uv frocks an’ two tied on th’ fenders. Maggie were holdin; a bowl uv’ leff over Chitlin Casseroll wropped in wax paper. When Susie Mae were wavin’ bye to’em, she sorta teared up an’ sez to me, “Jay Henry honey, hit purely does a body good to holp folks whot ain’t got as much as we’uns has got.” Mayhaps th’ saw mill will take Brother back on an’ they can live “high on th’ hog” lak us’ens. Now you traipse down to Silas store an’ git me ‘bout a haff dozen feed sacks so’s I can run up me some new frocks. Thay ain’t nothin’ leff on my nail an’ I’ll have to wear your overalls iffen I go anywheres”

Writ by Jay Henry

Evolution of the telephone

Many people today, while watching re-runs of The Andy Griffith Show, find it comical when Barney removes the telephone receiver from the hook and says, “Sarah, get me the Diner.”

It does not seem like too many years when we turned the crank on the wall-mounted telephone to call “Central” and ask for a particular number or person.  There were, however, times when we would have to ask Mrs. Pervis to get off the party line so we could call Doc. Simmons.  “Is your rheumatism still bothering you, John?” she would ask before relinquishing the line.

“Ma” Bell worked her wonders and our crank telephone was eventually replaced with a black, rotary dial unit.  This innovation bypassed “Central” with the exception of long distance calls.  We simply picked up the handset, dialed “36” and Doc. Simmons answered. It really couldn’t get any better, right?

As more and more telephones were installed, it became necessary to add additional numbers hence; Doc. Simmons’ number became “3648.”  Also the party lines were replaced with our own private line.  This innovation put a crimp in Mrs. Pervis’ lifestyle.  She now had to dial my number to check on my rheumatism.  In fact, she was one of the last to know that Mary Lee Bradshaw ran off with that lightning rod salesman.

Eventually, the telephone company was required to divide the community into exchanges.  Exchanges were named as STERLING, EDISON, FAIRMONT, etc.  The first two letters of the exchange became the prefix for each number.  Doc. Simmons number was now ED-3648 while our number became ST- 5151.

The Exchanges were later abandoned in favor of a prefix of three numbers followed by four additional numbers.  I am sure that this progress is easier for the automatic machinery that replaced “Central,” but it still would be nice to pick up the receiver and again hear the pleasant voice of Sarah saying, “Number Please.”

Many years later as more telephones were added, it became necessary to introduce a different method of dialing.  Area codes were assigned and Doc. Simmons number became 563-367-3648.  Those of us who had trouble remembering the days of the week were hard pressed to even recall where the multi-page directories were.

Mrs. Pervis was especially affected since she had no choice but to rely on the the ladies at the quilting circle for the latest local news.  She eventually even stopped asking about my rheumatism.  Several years later, she was later allocated a semi-private room at the Shady Rest Retirement Home.  Fortunately, her roommate had memorized most of the juicy numbers for the gossip-mongers.  For both of them to enjoy the rumors at the same time, they also petitioned the telephone company for a speaker phone in their room.

And, the beat goes on.

John

Catalogs

            It has not seemed so long ago that the only catalog available was from the firm of Sears & Roebuck.  Well, we've come a long way, baby.  Since the introduction of the credit card, mail order shopping has become a way of life.

            My understanding of regulations for postal carriers are that they are required to have no less than 35 pounds of assorted mail in their satchel.  If this is true, someone from the department should initiate an investigation of our mail person.  It is entirely possible that they leave their assigned station with the aforementioned poundage, but immediately upon arrival at our mail receptacle, they deposit 33.7 pounds of catalogs and continue with their routes with only a couple of postal cards and perhaps a past due notice from Publishers Clearing House.

            Being an avid wood-crafter, I browsed through a catalog at a friend's house once and found a unique router bit that struck my fancy.  I sent an order for the merchandise to the company and received it a few days later.

            The following week my mailbox was stuffed with brochures from AMERICAN WOODWORKER, WOODCRAFTERS, LTD., COUNTRY WOODWORKER, WORKING WITH WOOD, WOOD LOVERS MONTHLY, WEEKEND WOODWORKER, PLANS FOR WOODWORKERS, WOODWORKING TOOLS, HARD TO FIND TOOLS and WORKING WITH WOOD FOR FUN AND PROFIT.

            Each packet contained no less than 23 cards offering a 50% discount off the newsstand price and each card contained the words, "send no money, we'll bill you."

            To add insult to injury, the next week brought letters of past due bills from these same firms for subscriptions, many of which stated that if I did not send in my remittance I would be subject to forfeiture of the grand prize of one million dollars.

            Along about the same time my wife purchased an item from a catalog which she found in the waiting room at the dentist's office.  Less than two weeks later she was the recipient of catalogs from, J.C.Penny, Montgomery Ward, Roamans, Unique Boutique, Crazy Tee Shirts, Sears, Just My Size, Victoria's Secret, L.L.Bean, Lane Bryant and of course, Fredricks Of Hollywood.  Many of these offered substantial discounts to preferred customers such as she.

            To someone like me who still has difficulty with making a 1-800 telephone call, it is no less than amazing that so many firms consider the two of us as valuable clients.  Many of them even went so far as to send credit cards for our convenience.

            As an accommodation for our friends in the Postal Service, we are considering placing a recycling bin underneath our mailbox along with instructions to the carriers to deposit all catalogs in the bin and only the important mail in the official box.  You know, things like our sweepstakes' checks.

            I suppose to say that we are tired of all this unsolicited inundation of

"Fantastic merchandise at unbelievable prices" would be putting it a bit too mildly.  Perhaps a better description of our attitude would be that…

            In our old age, we have become just plain, damn, MEAN!

 

Jay Henry

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

            Under the guise of improving the performance of something, there are many of us who cannot resist the temptation of removing the outer cover of anything in order to discover just "what makes it tick."

            More often than not, we do much more than improve the performance, we totally destroy what, up until this point, was a useful item.  Our argument for this impulsive act of destruction is, "if it fails, then we can save the cost of repairs by fixing it ourselves."   In addition, most of us are blessed with well-meaning friends who are quick with advice if we mention that the item seems a little sluggish.

            "If you will remove the cover and turn that little screw 1/4 turn to the right, it will solve your problem."  "The factory never sets those things correctly."  Responding to this advice, we remove the cover, turn the screw and then discover that what once was a mite sluggish, now does not work at all.

            Although the item is still under warranty, it seems a little foolish to go to the trouble of packing, and shipping to the factory to have a simple adjustment made.  After all, our friend had a friend that repaired his in this way.  We cannot accept the fact that this person had more going for him in the brain department.

            By attempting the repairs, we have voided the warranty and our only recourse is to either get along without the item or purchase a new one.  Neither our friend nor we has given any thought to the removal of the cover and setting the screw back to its original position.  It's broke and that's it.

            Perhaps the time has come for us to re-examine our abilities and leave the repairs to the professionals.  We may feel a sense of defeat in that we were unable to remedy the failure that we had caused but in the long run, it would be more frugal than to attempt to "fix it if it ain't broke."

            Incidentally, our friend asked;  "If you are going to throw that thing away, can I have it?  "Sure;" we reply, and it's been working like a top ever since.

Demijon

Are you old enough to remember when?

            "Car-jack" was the definition for a device used to elevate an automobile and the word "Hi-jack" was used to indicate elevating it further?

            Screen doors at the grocery were emblazoned with the words "Merita is good bread?" and/or "Pepsi-Cola hits the spot?"

            Shoeshine stands were standard equipment in all barbershops as well as a "Tonic" applied with every haircut?

            Lace curtains that were washed starched and dried on curtain stretchers?

            Petcocks located underneath car radiators must be opened and water drained to prevent freezing during the winter?

            The building of houses was accomplished with handsaws, crosscut saws and hammers with galvanized tin as the most popular roofing material?

            Radios and heaters were not included as standard equipment on any but the most expensive automobiles?

            A family was considered "Riff-Raff" if their yard was not kept free of all grass and swept at least once per week?

            The most important mail that the majority of families received were the Sears Roebuck Catalog and The Market Bulletin?

            The "Hoover Cart," which was nothing more than an adaptation of the axle from an abandoned automobile, powered by a horse or mule?

            Church pews, were strewn with hand-held fans advertising Funeral Homes on one side and paintings of Heaven on the other?

            "Warming-closets," located above the cooking surface of wood fired cook stoves that kept leftovers warm with built-up heat from the stovepipe?

            Chicken wire enclosures for the garden spot, used as a deterrent from rabbits and other predators.

            An abundance of "Chinaberry" trees in every yard that provided a dense shade during the summer months were the norm?

            The warm breezes and the aroma of freshly turned earth that announced the arrival of spring?

            Winter AND summer “Union Suits” were essential components of men’s underwear?

            Crinoline petticoats were stylish as part of all young ladies wardrobe?

            Riding in a Rumble Seat with the girl of your dreams was the ultimate enjoyment?

            Every traveling carnival included a tent to house the “hoochie-koochie” show?

            These are but a few of the precious memories that I hold dear and continue to savor as a part of my past.

      John 

Arrangements

            A favorite expression of my father was, "I don't do business; I make arrangements."  This was his way of stating that he lacked sufficient monies to conduct business in the usual sense of the word.  Arrangements meant to either cajole an officer of the bank into a loan or else to work up a trade for whatever item was needed.

            This has been more or less a way of life for me as well.  Although I have been fortunate enough to provide for the necessities, there was never enough money available to squander.  When a car gave out, a trade was negotiated and payments were made on any balance.  The bank account, if not overdrawn, was usually down to pennies before the next paycheck. 

            One thing, which my wife and I thought we could not afford during the early years of our marriage, was health insurance.  The importance of this was revealed to us in no uncertain terms when we were expecting our first child.  I distinctly remember that the cost of delivery for this child was a whopping $150.00 and the hospital bill was an astronomical $107.95. 

            We dined on potatoes, beans and cornbread for quite a while before we managed to save this amount, but finally in November 1954 we brought our son home, completely paid for.  Needless to say, we began to shop for insurance immediately thereafter.  The small premiums paid each month were much easier on our limited budget.

            I do not remember the cost when our second son was born since we were only required to pay a portion of the bill, but I am sure that in 1958 the cost had risen substantially. 

            During their growing years we continually had an outstanding balance at the office of our pediatrician.  It seemed that when we came close to paying the balance, another trauma would ensue and we were back to square one.  Fortunate for us, however, he was a kind and understanding doctor who did not press for immediate payment from any of his patients.  He simply accepted arrangements.

            Today the children have successful careers and we have entered the world of retirement.  We have not forgotten the days of arrangements, and because of this we are able to cope with life on a limited income.  Hopefully, our children can remember enough of their youth to appreciate their success and realize that the necessity of making arrangements is sometimes unavoidable. 

            If they have learned anything from our mistakes and have attempted to prepare for the unexpected, then perhaps they will be qualified to "do business" instead of merely "making arrangements."

            This could, quite possibly, be their only legacy.

John

 

OLE BEAR

If ‘Ole Bear’ was as big as his mouth, he would be extremely dangerous. Any outside noise will ‘set him off.’ If the noise is accompanied by a vehicle in our driveway or even on the street, the sixteen pound ball of fur will immediately come to attention from a deep slumber. He seems to think that his job is to alarm his ‘people’ of impending danger. He tries to determine the amount of danger by running from one door to the other while barking constantly. Attempts to quiet him amounts to naught if the noise continues. He really becomes deranged if the doorbell rings during this performance.

Strangers are not aware of his demeanor while ‘raising such a ruckus’ since they cannot see the stub of a tail wagging frantically. If someone is invited inside by his ‘humans’, his attitude becomes that of a friend trying to ‘love you to death.’ In reality, Bear is a very affectionate pet regardless of his vocal attributes. If allowed, he will jump in anyones lap and snuggle his head on their shoulder demanding ‘sugar.’ If this action is denied, he will reach a furry paw in an attempt to draw a hand to himself for ‘scratching.’

Over the years, Bear has made it perfectaly clear that he made the decision to adopt these people and that they are expected to do his bidding at anytime. He eats, sleeps and is scratched whenever he desires so long as there is no unusual noise outside, whereupon he immediately becomes a prized “watchdog.”

I have even thought about posting a sign in the yard that reads, “BEWARE – THIS HOME IS PROTECTED BY AN ATTACK POODLE!”

Demijon

High Tech

            Nothing is simple anymore.  For someone who remembers sharpening a pencil with a pocketknife and doing his writing on a nickel tablet, this can present a problem.  Even the simple act of making coffee has become an art.  A short while ago, I had the horrible thought that if we experienced a power failure, my morning ration of coffee would be terminated due to the fact that we no longer owned a plain old coffee pot.  Today's coffee is filtered through an automatic, computerized machine that does everything except drink it for us.  Granted, this makes life somewhat easier for us but this high-tech coffee pot has drawbacks since it requires electrical power in order to perform.  Panic seized me when I realized that in the event of such failure, I would be forced to resort to the method of making my morning "fix" of coffee by the age old method of putting the ground coffee into a pot along with an amount of water and boiling it until I deemed it drinkable. 

            Unwilling to regress to this "crude" means of satisfying my addiction, I began a frantic search for a coffee pot which could be used on a holdover from our camping days, a two burner propane stove.

            My exploration led me from one store to another.  In each was an assortment of coffee makers that, according to the wording on the cartons, would require only the desire for a delicious cup of coffee and the contraption would do the rest.  BUT, no plain old coffee pots were displayed. 

            Exasperated, I approached a manager and asked if they had a regular coffee pot.  He led me to the same display which I had previously searched and selected a beautiful stainless steel percolator with a digital clock and a programmable timer.  "Latest thing," he announced.  "Micro-chips keep the brew at the correct temperature for up to three days with no aftertaste."  "Fine," I say, "but what if there is a power failure?"  "Then you boil your coffee," he replied with a smile.

            By this time, I am becoming desperate.  I have visions of awakening during a power failure and being required to face the day with jangled nerves, shaking hands and severe withdrawal pains in the pit of my stomach. 

            Determined, I continued my quest by concentrating my search in the area of the local flea markets.  There I found an array of percolators, but each had some parts missing or else they contained holes that rendered them useless antiques, to be displayed as reminders of "the olden" days.

            Filled with hopelessness, I arrived at the conclusion that I would have to take matters into my own hand if I was to thwart disaster in the form of being denied my morning allocation of caffeine.  Thereupon, I made several pots of potent brew and poured each into containers and placed them into the freezer.  At last I am prepared.  In the event of a power failure, I will only have to put a container of coffee into a pot and defrost it over the flame of the propane burner.  Ingenious, wouldn't you say?

            Now I only have to pray that the power failure does not last long enough for the freezer to defrost and spoil the contents.

            For now, I am content.

Demijon