Stutter stepping down memory lane.

Hello and welcome. Today. It is Friday, August 31, 2018. This year, as they say, is moving on down the road. At a fast clip, I might add. I do want to send out a thank you to our three sons, Chris, Jimmy, and Rodney. They pooled together to buy me a cooling vest kit for my recent birthday. That's something one wears to help keep their body cool. With the onset of the Santa Enterprises activities, it will be a welcome addition to my wardrobe. I do have a photo shoot on the books that is planned for outdoors in early November. We never know just how warm it might be around these parts at that time of year. Mrs. Claus and I have been talking about me using one of these for many years. I do need to take it for a trial run soon to make sure I know how it works. By default, I tend to be hot natured. Add to that bright photography lights, a long line of children, and there have been times when I felt like I was in meltdown mode. This unit is supposed to maintain an internal temperature in the high 60's Fahrenheit. I think it lasts up to four hours, but, the kit also includes some replacement inserts so I could be covered up to eight hours. Thanks to my boys for this greatly appreciated gift.

For Flashback Friday I want to share from a blog I wrote 11 years ago. I'm almost certain that throughout this writing experiment I've shared more about food than any other subject. We were not wealthy growing up but we always had wonderful family meals. The saying goes: Some eat to live and others live to eat. I do believe our heritage favored the second of those sentiments. At any rate, here it is, from August of 2007: "I grew up eating homegrown vegetables, meats butchered locally, and home cooked meals made from scratch. Some people look back on this type of eating and think it to be poor people’s food or something they are glad they never have to eat again. Obviously, those who see it this way didn’t have the types of food or the cooks we had. My Granny Mac along with my mom were recognized as some of the very best cooks in our area. At our Church homecoming special meals people would elbow each other to get to Granny Mac’s cornbread dressing or my mom’s homemade chicken and dumplings. We may not have had a lot of things but we always had good quality meals because of the love that went into making them. And, that’s exactly the ingredient Granny Mac used to talk about. She always said that good cooking starts with caring. Her reward came when those she loved sat down and gobbled up her many hours of hard labor. She would actually stand and watch us all eat before she ever sat down herself. That might not work in today’s world where equality reigns but in Granny’s world she received the blessing as she knew she had poured her best into making the meals she prepared to be something special. I also have the extra special blessing of having a wife who was brought up in the same tradition and she has become our queen of the kitchen to me and our boys, their wives, and their children, and our grandchildren. What’s her secret? The same one Granny Mac had: CARING! How does it show itself? Being in the kitchen at 4:30 a.m. to prepare each and every sumptuous dish so that at noontime when the herd shows up it will be not only a meal but a lasting memory. I sometimes feel sorry for her, but she, like my mom, her mom, and Granny Mac, receives the same sense of satisfaction in seeing her brood enjoy the fruit of her labor."

Home fried Cracklins.

That was 11 years ago and time has changed our opportunities to enjoy family meals as frequently as we did back then. Kids have grown up and schedules have become crazy and some have scattered here, there, and everywhere. However, we still do it when we can and it is still the stuff of memories for our clan. While my mom eventually had to hold back on cooking the 'big' meals, she was still active in the kitchen up until just a few months before she was called home by the Lord at age 93. I know many who didn't grow up the way I did and they had a different 'food' experience. That's how personal traditions are built. Sitting here, I can see my Granny Mac hovering over her stovetop frying up some fresh pork skins. The real-deal pork skins. I would have known, I helped in the butchering of the hog. We called them cracklins back then. Just so you know, they are nothing like those you buy in a bag. Coming in the back door on a frosty cold day and smelling those cracklins, well, like I say, that's the stuff memories are made of. That may be why the Cajuns call them Pig Candy. You may know that line from the famous poem, "while visions of homemade cracklins danced in their heads." What? You are not familiar with that one? You do need to get out more. Have yourself a most wonderful Saturday, Lord's Day Sunday, and Labor Day holiday on Monday. One last thing? I see. You no longer wonder how I became a diabetic? Good observation. Take care and may God add His blessings to each one. Amen. ...More later.