America, on a down hill slide

This is a rant which started out as just a thank you. Thank you for your explanation of the importance of animals. I guess I am just fed up with our upside down world way of thinking. It is a sheer tragedy to some if a tree is cut down, or an animal put to sleep yet they think it is okay to abort a baby. We are so messed up in our minds in America that we have been nailing our own coffins shut. God will not put up with this behavior. As with other 'smart' cultures we are on our way out. I know; the Bible teaches these things will come to pass. American minds just are not getting it. Even when we know a person has killed another, we pay for the killer to be kept in prison where he has more than some of our military that come home after fighting to keep us safe. I think it is time to right the wrong. Give the soldiers the buildings that house the lawbreakers and put the lawbreakers on the street. Let them kill each other. It is a fact the government isn't doing a good job at handling such things. Maybe we could loose all the gangsters, killers and rapists into the Washington D.C. area. They should fit right in. Too many who have been elected by 'we the people' are just as crooked as those in prison. Let them all get together and watch the fray. Where are all the morals? Everyone seems interested in only themselves. "We the people" went to the poles this year. Who did they vote to put in office? Well they chose people who would give them 'stuff'. Lord knows if you can get it for free take it. Don't try to work for a living. If the money is there for the taking, who needs a job? After all, one must have a new video game, a big screen TV and so much more. Make sure each child has the latest fashions, the most popular brand of shoes endorsed by an over-paid athlete. Why should your child do without? Just sit back and let the government take care of it. One day, everyone will know, just as those in Germany learned. Hitler was voted into office because of his ability to talk a good talk. He then took his opportunity and began the process of causing Germany to lose its greatness. Yes, folks it can and will happen to America. The mind set of those in power is to control your every move. They want your guns, they want your homes, they want your children. The sad thing is, they are getting them. I watch the commercial about reverse mortgage and just simply shake my head. The word that sticks out to me is 'government'. This plan is backed by the government. Now who do you think will own your home if you buy into that money saving, I can spend it now on things I want (not need) and still live here attitude. Yes, it is one more way the government is trying to control each person. As my dad said years ago, they will take my gun only when they pry it from my cold, dead hand. He saw today so many years ago. No one listened then and more than likely no one will listen to me. After all I am just an old woman deep into her allotted time on this earth. What could I know! Did I home school my kids before it was legal because I was nuts? Nope, I saw what was being taught. The government has changed the school books to say only what they want kids to learn. So many truths have been omitted. Do I have credit cards so I can keep all things up-to-date? Nope. I have no intention for the bank to own me because of my wants. Do I can and preserve my own food because I am a glutton for work? Nope. I do it because I know what is in each jar. It will come in handy when others are looking to a store to furnish them over priced, unhealthy food. Do I still earn money by working? Yep, sure do. I will continue to do so as long as these fingers have any ability to move. I will not sit and let the government take over my life. It leads to wrong behavior. The person that killed all those people yesterday is said to have a mental illness. Folks, our country has a mental illness. Had he not done us the courtesy of ending his own life, we the tax payers would be paying for his legal expenses, his housing, his food and everything else he wanted. Yes, he was a person. Maybe he did or did not have a mental disease, I don't know. I just know we are seeing these things more often now. Must step off my soapbox and get busy. The turnip greens are cooking. I am eating breakfast and have so many things I need to do today.

It is a pride thing

I don’t like to cry. I think of myself strong enough to handle life, and crying is not done by people that are strong. Well, at least that is how I felt. This came by email today. Read it carefully, I did. It spoke directly to me. Ecclesiastes 5:18-20 "...Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that's about it. That's the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what's given and delighting in the work. It's God's gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now..." I am not sure from which translation this was taken. I only know this is the translation that spoke loud and clear to me after a very unexpected happening. The part that struck me was to make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what's given and delighting in the work. It's God's gift! God deals out joy in the present." Accept what God gives. I am better, much better at giving than I am at receiving. I know I don’t deserve anything as I have done nothing to promote others giving to me. I just like to give. Is that pride? Well, we all know it is. God is busy teaching me to be gracious in my ability to accept the gifts of others. What a hard lesson I am learning. God will lead me down the same path until I “get it” Oh, how I hate traveling the same road over and over, but I am wearing a rut in this one, the one that leads to being able to accept things from others without trying to ‘out do’ their kindness. I know many of you are aware of my health issues and their leading me to be less of a do’er than I have ever wanted to become. I thought my problems stemmed from getting older only to find out I am being consumed with an illness that has taken twenty years to act up. The symptoms came on slowly which gave me the notion I was just too old to do things now. Ah, the dreams we tell ourselves. So, back to the kindness I have been shown. I enjoy springtime and all the flowers it brings. I like sitting on my deck listening to the birds, enjoying the beautiful flower garden. This year the whole thing would be a hay field if not for my church family, with one friend in particular who has made countless trips out here to help me. Actually, I sit, she works. That is just not right! I should be helping. I feel useless like I am taking her away from her family, but she keeps coming. She even takes me to get flowers or items I need from the store. She never complains, just asks what else I need. She as well as her husband spent an entire day putting weather seal on my deck after another gentleman did the power wash. Another group spend an entire day weeding as well as cleaning my beautiful garden and yard. One man even cleaned the gutters on the house. A huge stump that sat between me and my neighbor is no longer there. I was amazed when I saw it gone. Did I mention, not one person asked to be paid! Do you see a pattern here? These are all Christians who are doing as the Bible asks. I am blessed. While all this yard work was going on three others were installing another kitchen stove for me. The old one had been so overworked the door would not shut properly. The stove? Well it too was given to me by a lady at church. I look at it in amazement because I think it is so nice. The cost, you ask. Not a dime. The only chore I had to do was clean the floor and wall before the workers put the new stove in place. Then later I discovered one cannot judge a stove by its looks. For some reason the oven will not light! I don’t know why, one of the men from church does not know why. I haven’t stressed a lot about this as I know in time God will send the right person to fix the problem. Today was the day. A lady I met on an online yard sale stopped by to bring me part of a mixer I had purchased from her. That mixer was a total blessing. I could never afford to buy a Kitchen Aid mixer, they are well above my price range. This one which she had for sale was pricy for me, but well worth what she asked. I just stand looking at it knowing I can now mix pie crust with ease. Well, I could if the oven would work! I thought back to the days when we cooked on a coal stove feeling rather at peace just having the burners working. As we sat visiting another Christian came in with three containers of canning jars. She too had a yard. I asked her how many and how much. If the price was right I would take them all. Her answer; “for you, Hazel the price will be right. I will take $10 for all of them”. That indeed was a more than fair price as at the store it would have been a lot more. While those two ladies were talking, my neighbor came in. We were really enjoying our time together. Then came the bombshell. I was told I was going to be given a new stove. The Internet friend and her husband want to buy me a stove that will last until I am too old to cook! Good thing I was sitting. I did what I am too strong, to self-reliant to do. I cried openly. Right there in front of everyone, I cried. I wanted to scream NO! You can’t do that, but this voice inside said; Learning to take is really a pride issue, Hazel. Accept what is being offered or go down this road until you are chin deep in the rut. I will take you through again if you don’t let go of the pride. Just accept. I am learning accepting help is just as important as giving help. Is it easy for me, not by a mile! All my mind can focus on is the willingness of an almost complete stranger purchasing for me what I would not be able to have. I had already started the process of saving to get a stove. Giving up TV puts a little more back. Cutting out the Internet on my phone cut that bill in half. It would have been a long struggle, but I was willing to manage on my own. All I can do now is just sit and shake my head. I see in my mind how Jesus hung on the cross just for me. He did not have to, He wanted to. He purchased for me something I could never purchase myself. I could never live a perfect life, so I needed a Savior to pay the price I could not pay. He did it willingly, asking nothing from me except my belief that He did care for me enough to pay a price I could never afford. I am not sinless, so dying on the cross would not be something I could do. How grateful I am for his unselfish love.

Let's talk

Conversation has indeed been replaced by gadgets. God’s word said it is not good for man to be alone and then he made woman. He put the two together to be companions. He gave them the ability to speak which I would imagine was for a reason. I think conversation stimulates.

Being a writer, I know it is easy to forget the human need of one-on-one conversation. In person, with a steaming cup of coffee at my kitchen table is one of my favorite places to enjoy a person’s company. When the weather is warmer, I find relaxing with words goes well on my deck. As warm breezes soothe the senses so does the sound of the voice of a dear friend. The chatter of grandkids enhances my mood as well. Yes, we need the sound of the human voice.

I became very aware of the lack of human conversation as I traveled home from Alabama. At Pensacola airport I awaited my connection to the next destination, Charlotte, N.C. All was doing well, until Continental canceled a flight or two. There were six of us flying on employee passes which meant we would board after everyone else was seated. Standby flights are much cheaper but if a time schedule needs to be met, this is not an option. When I checked the day before the flight was to leave there were several seats available. Life changed in a very short space of time. I was not on any particular schedule but certainly was not looking forward to spending the night in the terminal. At the age of 74 curling up in a not-so-spacious seat did not strike my fancy. As you know, God is in control. He was working out the problem even before prayers were being said.

Three adults and two children were left waiting with me. The one difference for them was they needed to be ready to work the next morning. One was traveling to Detroit with her daughter, one was needing to be in Charlotte early to clock in. The man traveling with his son was from Peru and though he told me his destination I have stored it in the recesses of my mind. I do remember his son’s name was Antonio. Why do I remember it so well? The little chap had a mind of his own, listening to a different drum beat. His dad spoke his name over and over. Most of the time he was wasting his breath as Antonio was off in his own little world.

Due to my inability to walk quickly enough to get from point A to point B in ample time, I opted to use the service of a wheelchair. After a short time of walking my left leg is numb. Then also there is the added carry on luggage to tow as well as my purse. I have a hard time walking and chewing gum, so the wheelchair gave me clear sailing through the airport. We were a group of ill-fated travelers all with our own set of problems. I was not fretting as I felt all would work out for good.

The grownups seemed to be working out details. Because of their need to get to their destination it was suggested we all pitch in and rent a vehicle and drive to Ft. Walton which had wide open seating. The younger of the two women had no extra money and would have been left with her daughter in the airport overnight unless we split the cost of the van three ways. Was the choice hard to make? Not at all. If I had to stay overnight in the terminal I would have had to eat. Eating at the airport is like eating in a five-star restaurant without the ambience. Earlier I had a cold ham and cheese sandwich, some fresh fruit and coffee. I winced at the bill of $18.00. If I were not diabetic, I would have settled for an over-priced bag of chips.

I sat in the chair entertaining the little ones while the USAirway workers worked their magic. In order to keep Antonio focused I told him it was because of him we were getting to the gate at Ft. Walton in time to board the flight. We barely made it, but make it we did. Now things were looking up. I had a window seat and enjoyed the beauty of the view above the storm clouds below. The flight from Ft. Walton to Charlotte was uneventful and short. Once in Charlotte, each employee went their own way and I sat conversing with a lady who also was in a wheelchair. She had braces and I could only think how blessed I really am to only have to use a cane. While we talked a man was pacing back and forth, grumbling about how this airline was the worst he had ever seen. I purposely stopped him and told him, in my opinion, this is one of the best airlines. He continued to grumble. I felt he needed to take a deep breath and think of the possibilities of pending troubles that only God could see and in fact he was being protected from unforseen problems. Soon we boarded.

This is when I came face-to-face with the fact conversation between people is becoming outdated. I had an isle seat this time and was seated next to a very pleasant gentleman who indulged an old woman’s queries with light conversation. Soon I noticed his breathing had become rhythmic and he slept. There was one seat in front of us where a young man and woman talked.

In the left side of the plane I noted the choices those passengers made. In the first seat a man was reading a paperback book. Behind him a gentleman was reading something on a Kindle. The disgruntled man was next and had ear buds in his ear. Behind him, just across the isle from my seat a gentleman was playing games on an ipod while the woman next to him was playing games on her smart phone. The next seat back a man was reading a magazine. I sat there in amazement as I saw why conversation is becoming obsolete. Everyone was wrapped up in their own world, never curious about their surroundings. Completely lost in their own worlds they traveled. The only conversation was between one man and one woman. What a waste of a precious gift God gave to man. I don’t think He wants us so wrapped up in ourselves that we function without talking. We could just do away with our voice boxes if we fail to use them. I wonder if a voice box becomes obsolete without use?? Let’s talk about it.

Another soldier dies

Another soldier was killed as he did his duty in the Armed Forces. He was not forced to join the service but chose to do so. He wanted to keep me safe by offering his own life and sacrificing dearly by being far from home and family. He did this because he loves America and her citizens. This soldier ignored the warning that he could be killed as a result of his enlistment in the Armed Forces to protect America. The soldier gave his life for me, someone he never met, someone too old to fight for herself. This brave soldier is a patriot. And who cares? How much money did he receive for all this? Not nearly enough I am sure. I wonder how many flags flew at half-staff for him? Was his funeral attended by the media moguls and high-society people?

A celebrity takes too many drugs, and falls asleep in a bathtub. With riches and fame she played her game not in the least concerned about me. How much media coverage was given there? Well, of course it was all over the news. After all, this was someone famous. It was even said that "God was in awe" when this talented person reached heaven. Many celebrities attended her funeral. The media moguls showered her with accolades befitting a queen. I am sure the amenities attached to her funeral were well beyond the month's pay of the soldier who died.

And yes, because of my statement regarding what I already knew in my heart regarding how she died, I was chastised by someone. Innocent until proven guilty was quoted. Now that the truth of the drugs that were in her body comes out, how much of that is in the news? I would say most people have not heard a word regarding the fact she had Valium, Xanax and alcohol in her system. The warnings regarding drinking and taking Xanax were ignored. ("It may also slow both the heart rate and breathing, which can cause you to pass out or have difficulty breathing -- and may even lead to death.") http://anxiety.emedtv.com/xanax/xanax-and-alcohol.html
The warnings regarding drinking and taking Vallium were Ignored. ("The additive affects of alcohol to Valium's central acting depressant effect can cause severe respiratory depression and death. Using alcohol and Valium can result in a fatal overdose which can stop the heart or cause coma." http://www.livestrong.com/article/216529-side-effects-of-valium-alcohol/#ixzz1nQfK9p6L

Taking drugs became a crutch for the celebrity. She was so famous she lost control of good sense. Yes, that is what I said, she lost any good sense she had when she was just a voice in a church choir. How sad. From singing for God to pleasing herself led to her demise. I have a hard time grieving a lost such as this. As for the soldier my heart grieves deeply because he cared for others more than himself. I grieve for his family who laid him in the ground many years too soon. I have been where this family is now. Folks, it hurts. It hurts more knowing so little attention is paid to a soldier that dies than to a celebrity who of their own free will gets so involved with self they have to medicate daily to cope with life.

We should be ashamed of ourselves for being so backward in our thinking. There will come and time when we answer to God for those things we neglect here on earth. I am not impressed by celebrity. I am impressed by the valor of an American soldier. God help us change our way of thinking.

Farm Living

Every year about this time my built-in timer goes off and I find myself strangely motivated to prepare for the winter.

I need to get back to the kitchen -again. Beans are about half strung. This bunch I am going to cook and EAT!!! Next bushel will be for canning for the long winter months. How I long for the days on the farm when everything we ate came from our cellar. We had jars of jelly, apple butter, pickled beets, corn relish, dill pickles, sweet pickles, sweet relish, green beans, peas, corn, peaches, apples, rhubarb, blackberries, and pears. The bins were full of potatoes, carrots and sweet potatoes. In big crocks we had sauerkraut, pickled corn and pickled beans. There were jars of canned sausage balls. We made our own mincemeat for holiday pies. We made souse meat using the head of the hog that was butchered by the 'boss'. So good. We bought bacon by the slab and cut it our self. No packaged sliced bacon, just jowl bacon which was used for flavoring beans, both the green beans we canned and the dried beans we had shelled.

The grease from the bacon was used for making gravy for morning biscuits and for frying potatoes, corn or cabbage. It was a simple life but so much more peaceful than what people have today. We didn't worry about what the neighbors had. We didn't worry about keeping up with the times other than the news.

I am so thankful I grew up living on the farm. Today I wish I could spend time hoeing in the dusty rows of corn, beans and potatoes. Oh, if only we could have seen the future when we were young. We would not complain so of the work we had to do. Now I am too old to walk, let along stand in the heat of a dusty garden. I am glad I can sit in a chair as I prepare the produce others have planted. This way I still have the 'taste of home".

During the growing season our meals consisted of fresh green beans, corn, sometimes on the cob, wilted lettuce (leaf lettuce from the garden with added green onions then hot bacon grease poured over it. It was then tossed and seasoned with salt, pepper and vinegar.) Cucumbers were often sliced with onions and put in a mixture of vinegar, water, salt and pepper. Sliced tomatoes were placed in a big bowl on the table. Sometimes mother would take the peeling off, other times not.

To this day I don't have a need to eat meat. It is not that I don't like it, I just didn't grow up eating it, so it feels normal to have a meal without it. At times there was fried chicken, but not every week. I don't even remember eating bacon. I just remember using the grease for cooking. I feel secure in the fact the bacon was given to the hard-working farmer who sat at the head of the table. Of course he had eaten and was out working before the rest of the house was up. Getting in the fields before the heat of the day was important.

After hours of work as the sun was setting low in the field, dad would come home to a hot meal. I don't remember him ever complaining about what was on the table. Many times at night it was the same as for dinner, other times it would be brown soup beans, potatoes fried in an iron skillet, and cornbread with the fresh green onions on the side. He drank coffee. We all had water. No iced tea, no canned pop, no Koolaid. Just water from the pump outside the kitchen door. It was cooler if pumped fresh. And I never felt deprived. It was just the way I thought life was.

Eggs were not the normal breakfast fare either. They were used for baking and put in other things we ate. If the chickens were laying well there might be an egg. We did at times have a fried egg on biscuit to take to school for lunch. A biscuit with egg, wrapped in a newspaper tied together with string. That was our noon meal at school. I chuckle to myself as I think how my grandchildren would recoil at this idea. Why, they would be laughed right out of the room, or so they think. Oh if only they could see how blessed I am for being one of the 'didn't haves'. Someday in the future they will learn.

I know it is 90 degrees outside. My inward clock says it is time to make a big pot of vegetable soup. On the farm we had no meat to put in the pot. We used bacon grease for flavoring and added homegrown cabbage, carrots, celery, potatoes, green beans, corn, peas, onions and tomatoes. I can close my eyes and almost smell the aroma of that soup. Cornbread was baked with bacon grease as well. Mother covered the bottom of the 'bread pan' with grease before pouring the batter into the pan. It made the bottom crunchy and the top had a crust as well. Mercy, I am getting hungry.

The bread was never cut, it was broken off. I like the corner because of the crust. I would use a knife to split it and then homemade butter was added. After having satisfied my craving for cornbread and butter, the rest of the portion I broke off was crumbled into the vegetable soup. This was done as well when we had brown bean soup. It just isn't right without cornbread.

The day is getting on. It has taken me most of the day to get the corn prepared for the freezer, cut a head of cabbage and do half the bag of beans. I am slower now, but there is a joy in me that I cannot describe as I take myself back to the farm by the way of preparing green beans.

Getting Rich!!!

I am fixing to be a millionaire. And it is all legal. I know it is because the non-chain letter I just received in the mail says it is. I will tell you how it works.

Some dummy opens a letter that I send to them requesting they send me and some other people a dollar. When they get my letter they are SURE to send me those dollar bills as they don't know me from Eve. But the letter says it is legal, so why not try.

Once I get the dollar from each of these six dumb people, they will in turn send my letter to other people who don't know them from Adam or Eve and my name will then be on a list from all these folks and these complete dummies will then send my name to all on their list and I am raking in the dough by the handfuls. Yes, it is true! I am fixing to be a millionaire as soon as I make 200 hundred copies of the five-page letter I received and send it to only SIX people. Don't ask me why I would need 200 hundred copies of the letter if I only have to send to six to become wealthy. But the letter says do it, so I reckon that is what I should do. Now, I go buy envelopes and stamps (what does a letter cost to mail these days, anyhow?), replenish my supply of paper, because after 200 copies of a five-page letter I am out and head to the post office.

This is indeed a dream come true. I don't have to stick my head out the door to become filthy rich! Oh, after I get the six dollars, I need $45 to buy peel off address mailing labels which I can order from a place called Data Line. If I want more, I just pay more money. What a DEAL!!! The cost of the envelopes is around $11, paper $55, and $88 for postage. Does this sound like an amazing deal to you!!! That is supposed to be my entire investment before becoming so rich I would be too big for my britches and shun the lowly people around me. (I jest)

And, what is it that makes this NOT a pyramid scam? It is supposedly the way the letter reads. You simply ask the person to add you to their mailing list and all is well and good. And I bet that is going to make more dummies want to send money to me, WHY?

Also it has Oprah Winfrey's name on the letter. That must make it legal. After all, she is the guru of give. Highly respected TV and radio programs say it is legal. (that in itself is an oxymoron - TV X radio, respected??? I think I should call my local Christian station and ask why they are not on board with this.

My first question about this is: HOW did this man, George Cox from Spencerville, Ohio get my name and address!!!! I am on a no-junk mail list at the post office, a no call list on the phone and all my information on the Internet is set at HIGH security.

I do have a plan. I intend to spend a bit of money to mail only ONE letter. I will reuse the address label on the front of the envelope and mail it back to the one that sent it with proper instructions on what he is to do with it.

Yes, I am fixin' on being rich. Why don't each of you that read this just send me a dollar while you are at it and add me to your reading list! Does that make it legal?? I can save all the $205.00 initial investment and probably get about six dollars.

The Peanut Butter Tree

THE PEANUT BUTTER TREE
by
Hazel Williams-Jann

It had been one of those nights when sleep eluded me. I was finished with all my packing, the alarm was set, and I was ready to head out the door as soon as I was dressed, but throughout the night, I kept replaying all of this in my restless mind. Before the alarm sounded, I was already out of bed attending to last minute chores that needed completed. I made sure the windows were closed. I locked the doors, opened the door on the dishwasher, turned the water reservoir to the coffee pot to the off position and finished packing the van. My bags were packed, sitting by the door with my bedroll and other items I would need while on the island. I was about to embark on a memory trip.
The coming trip took me back to the old log cabin where I was born and the taste of peanut butter swiped between two soda crackers. I recall the days when my mother would drive the country roads in our old car selling Watkins and McConnon spices and flavorings to neighboring farm wives. In the late 1930's money was scarce, and there were items needed in our home that could not be grown. Being a farm-to-farm sales person was one way mother could help financially. This was not an easy task with four children in tow. We were not left with a babysitter, we traveled these roads as well.
The afternoon sun beating down on the car created four sweaty, squirming kids. Having anticipated such a problem mother would prepare a snack for us to break the monotony of just sitting in the car waiting for her to finish filling the orders from the farm wives. We all sat in the car while she was in the farm houses. We were enticed to behave ourselves with the promise of a coming treat. Mother always packed something for us to eat while out on the road. At an appropriate time the car was pulled off the gravel road under a nice shade tree. It did not take long for us to tumble out of the back seat of the old car and sit at the trunk of a tree under shady branches where we could enjoy a cooling breeze while we ate our peanut butter crackers washing them down with orange Kool-aid.
As the years passed we remained in the country on a farm. In the mid 1940's as tenant farmers we were dependent on a bountiful garden to supply our winter food. After the garden was plowed, along with my two brothers and one sister, I helped plant the seeds. When the vegetables started to grow it was our chore to keep the weeds from smothering the plants. Once school was out it seemed many of my days were spent with a hoe cutting down thistles, dandelions and other invasive, unwanted weeds. Work-day on the farm was long. Mother and dad were up by daybreak, and the day did not end until dark. With all the work to be done breakfast was very early. Dinner was always on time as dad was there to listen to the news while we ate. On occasion we kids would fill our plates and sit outside on the ground in the shade of the house to eat so as not to interfere with the news. I recall on occasion having to leave the table as I could no longer stifle my giggling. I wonder why it is that when it is necessary for a child to be quiet everything just seems to become more funny? The harder we tried to be quiet, the more we wanted to laugh. Usually that was just when something important was being repeated on the radio news. Supper time was at six or after, depending on the amount of work to be done, so an afternoon snack was still necessary.
On the back side of the acre of garden and a little to the right, a tree had been left to grow. Not too many vegetables could be planted near it but it did provide the perfect place to sit while cutting the dust from my throat with orange Kool- aid. Again the taste of peanut butter on crackers was welcomed, and this treat gave each of us energy to hoe more weeds before supper time. As a mother, I too prepared peanut butter and crackers with Kool-aid for my children for an afternoon snack.
When my children were old enough to go to summer camp I found a way to go with them on occasion. One summer, while living in Oklahoma I spent the entire summer in camp. I took the job of cook, and two of my girls were in camp all summer.
Falls Creek is a huge camp near Davis, Oklahoma where my local church had their own cabin. I was blessed to attend camp with the teens to help with cooking and counseling. In the same location, higher up the mountain is another camp for girls no yet in their teens and in third through sixth grade in school. This camp is called Camp Nunny-Cha-Ha, which is an Indian name meaning High Hills. It was as one of the cooks for this camp one summer that peanut butter became a big part of daily life.
There were three of us in the kitchen to prepare meals for the up to 250 young girls that came each week. We each had our own cooking station. Mine was salads and desserts. One of my chores was to see that all the tables in the dining hall had an ample jar of peanut butter on it during each meal. It had been noted that if a child will eat nothing else, peanut butter would sustain them. During this summer I was taught new and sundry ways to introduce different foods to unwilling girls. One camp counselor had a distaste for peas. She added peanut butter to her peas in order to show she could eat what was placed before her no matter if she liked it or not. Many of our snacks involved peanut butter. We sliced trays of apples and put peanut butter between them. We had peanut butter crispy squares. We had peanut butter cookies.
My day as a camp cook was busy. Between meals it was our custom to just put our feet up relax. I was not used to being on my feet. For the first few days I found myself craving the time for putting my feet up. After a couple weeks I was able to do more than hobble to the dinning hall and actually was pain free. We were isolated on the mountain. The big event of the week for these young girls was waiting for the garbage truck to come to haul away the refuse. You see, we had no radio, no telephone, no television and the worse possible for this age, no boys! I have to smile when I think how it seemed the building should have tilted as the girls all ran to one end to get a glimpse of the cute young man working during the summer as a garbage man. I am sure he was flattered by all this attention, but he was on a mission. His stay was limited.
A few weeks into the summer routine we decided to take a break from the isolation of Nunny-Cha-Ha to go down the mountain to Falls Creek Camp for a change of scenery and a cool treat while on our afternoon break. The teen camp had snack stations where the young people could choose their own snacks at their own expense. We cooks put a few coins in our pocket before driving down the mountain, because we were planning to purchase an ice cream cone while on the lower mountain. Any flavor would do, it would be different. What a laugh we had when we came upon the ice cream vendor. Of all the days for us to choose our descent we picked the day when the ‘flavor of the day’ was, you guessed it - peanut butter!!! I still chuckle when I think of the irony of that.
Many years have passed since I spent the summer up to my elbows in peanut butter. All of my children are grown, and I now have grandchildren old enough for summer camp. I have moved back East close to my roots, but I continued to have a longing for the days of summer camp. This year, I was able to relive a bit of that time as several of us spent the Memorial Day weekend at a summer camp.
New Life Island is a Christian camp located in the Delaware River near Frenchtown, New Jersey. It is said this island has only flooded once every fifty years, that is, until this past rainy season. It was flooded twice this year. With the summer camping season quickly approaching help was needed to get repairs completed. The Youth Pastor where I attend church spent time as a counselor on this island as a college student. When he heard help was needed he asked if anyone would be interested in helping. I was so thankful they needed a cook for this weekend trip. I was finally going to relive a happy time.
After an eleven hour road trip, we arrived at the camp. The first thing on my mind was the dinning hall. When I walked in I felt right at home. There was the mammoth cook stove, the walk in cooler, the preparation tables, the dishwasher that made the mountains of dishes easier to clean and on the shelf in the pantry I saw a jar of peanut butter. I smiled as I thought of the peanut butter crispy treats that would be enjoyed by this work crew.
There were no finicky eaters this time, only hard-working willing adults who consumed whatever was put in front of them when the dinner bell rung. The work was hard. The cabins all needed repairs. New drywall was applied, primer and then paint covered this. New trim was nailed where needed. The cabins were emptied of debris. The grounds had to be mowed, flowers were planted by the mother of the camp director. Everyone had a job to do, even the teens that lived on the island with their parents worked along side. My job again was being the camp cook.
Having spent many of my high school days working in one or another of my parents’ restaurants, I had acquired the ability to prepare meals and have everything hot as well as on time. I was in my element in that massive kitchen. I begged the regular cook to take a break so I could relive my dreams. She agreed and for two days I cooked. Of course I had to make the peanut butter crispy treats, and I left the recipe which I had gotten at Camp Nunny-Cha-Ha, for the campers that will be on the island this summer. The adult workers were more than pleased to have this protein treat as their afternoon snack, and not one morsel was left the following day.
It was a good time. Our rooms overlooked the Delaware River. In the evening we were treated to the site of a mother duck taking her nine babies on a swim. In the morning hours I saw two geese swimming together out into the river. It was such a peaceful time filled with many good memories. On the last evening there was a gentle falling rain. Before the evening meal was done we all sat on the front porch of the dinning hall talking. After supper was over, the kitchen cleaned and everyone taking time to relax before packing up for our trip home, we went into town for an ice cream treat. Yes, you guessed it. I had peanut butter ice cream.
Returning to my familiar bed, I had no trouble sleeping. The work trip is over, but I have stored wonderful memories which will linger yet for years. God was good to have given us memory to help relive the good times of life. Every time I see peanut butter I will think of extraordinary summer memories of my life