|
Post by garrett on Aug 15, 2011 11:06:49 GMT -5
put it here.i'd love to see some of your work...smiles betting others would too......
|
|
|
Post by garrett on Aug 18, 2011 14:48:12 GMT -5
hopin to see some paintings?smiles
|
|
|
Post by cottonpicker on Aug 18, 2011 17:55:35 GMT -5
How about some of my short stories??? Interested?
LarryD
|
|
|
Post by garrett on Aug 18, 2011 18:07:41 GMT -5
ahyup............smiles.................
|
|
|
Post by grapenut on Aug 18, 2011 18:10:26 GMT -5
How about some of my short stories??? Interested? LarryD I for one would be quite interested and I'm sure that most everyone else would be too.
|
|
|
Post by cottonpicker on Aug 19, 2011 15:04:27 GMT -5
HOG KILLIN' TIME
Back during the early years of my childhood the first “cold spell”signaled the coming of winter and hog killing time in those pre-refrigeration days in rural western Oklahoma. On the farm we had no refrigeration. In fact, we didn’t have electricity until REA (Rural Electrification Administration) came thru our part of the state in about 1950 or so; although the towns and cities had it decades earlier. Until that time, our lighting depended on kerosene lamps and cooking was done with wood-burning stoves or a kerosene stove. Our lone source of entertainment in those pre-TV days was a battery powered radio which brought our favorite programs and news from around the world into our living room. The radio battery was recharged with a “windcharger” which was a short windmill about 6 ft. tall that turned a generator and kept the batteries charged. If it was anything western Oklahoma had in abundance, it was wind! We enjoyed programs Perkins and Our Gal Sunday or Helen Trent-- forerunners of today’s “television soaps”. Grandpa liked listening to play-by-play accounts of baseball games broadcast from “way back east” in Cincinnati or some such place and the news given by Gabriel Heatter or H.V. Kaltenborn in his unforgettable voice and unique delivery style. On Saturday nights we all gathered ‘round the radio and listened to “The Grand Old Opry”, located at 650 on the AM dial and broadcast from the famous Ryman Auditorium in far off Nashville, Tennessee. We could only “pick it up” when the weather permitted since there was a lot of interference on the air waves back then. There was no FM radio yet.
On hog killing day my aunts, uncles and cousins would gather with coats tightly buttoned as insurance against the cold north wind and three hogs fattened for this sole purpose were swiftly dispatched with a well-placed bullet to the head by my Dad. A fifty-five gallon barrel of boiling water had been heated over a roaring wood fire and was used to loosen the hair and then the hides were scraped clean on the slatted sides of cotton wagon sideboards which had been removed from the wagon and laid across saw horses to make a workbench. The clean pink carcasses were suspended and deftly butchered by the more experienced members of our family group. Fatty pieces and the caul fat were removed and rendered into lard which was stored for cooking purposes in lidded five gallon cans. The residue, called “cracklin’s” were enjoyed as a fresh treat and some were held aside in the kitchen to flavor and lend texture to our “cracklin’ cornbread” later that day. The liver, freshly removed and highly prized, was whisked into the kitchen and later made an appearance on our mid-day table. Grandma prepared her own mixture of sweet salt cure from salt and brown sugar to prevent spoilage and thoroughly rubbed it into the hams which were then hung in the smoke house for preservation. Other less desirable cuts of meat were ground into sausage on a hand grinder, then flavored with salt, black pepper, hot pepper flakes and rubbed sage. This tasty product was a staple throughout the wintertime on grandma’s breakfast table alongside her famous (to us) fluffy-as-a-cloud and light-as-a-feather “cathead” biscuits. They had nothing to do with the family cat except the size of it’s head which was the such as Jack Benny, The Lone Ranger and Amos & Andy while grandma preferred Ma same size as her biscuits. Hams showed up on the table sliced, pan-fried until lightly browned and served with the cathead biscuits and “red-eye gravy”, a concoction of ham pan drippings with black coffee poured in to make a thin “gravy” which tasted mighty good over biscuits on a cold winter morning. May sound a bit crude to the uninitiated, but we loved it and it didn’t cost much for a family who had little to spare! The pork heads were boiled until the meat fell from the bone, was ground up, mixed with chopped apples, apple cider, dried cherries, sugar and spices and preserved by canning in Mason jars for later use in Mincemeat pies at holiday time.
Such were the happenings on a long and busy day during hog killing time and I remember it vividly as the very last time our family performed this generations-old tradition . I am glad I experienced it and still remember it as being well worth all the effort. The results made for a bountiful larder, but; moreover, it was an activity that brought our family together with the common goal of making certain that we ate well throughout the coming winter. ©2009LarryD.Davis
|
|
|
Post by txdirtdog on Aug 19, 2011 17:04:01 GMT -5
That is a wonderful piece of work Larry. Thank you for sharing it.
|
|
|
Post by grapenut on Aug 19, 2011 22:40:25 GMT -5
cottonpicker, that is one heck of an awesome story. Now all I can think about is all that great food you guy's had...real ham! you know how hard it is to find real ham today! Red eye gravy? been so long since I have had any that I had all but forgot about it. I know your story didn't mention it, but thinking about real ham, got me thinking about Hog jowls...the best bacon ever! Ah, the good old days.
|
|
|
Post by garrett on Aug 20, 2011 0:11:08 GMT -5
truly awesome story............thank you.
|
|
|
Post by cottonpicker on Aug 20, 2011 8:31:56 GMT -5
I just now went back to re-read my story and found to my dismay that some words or parts of a few sentences were missing from my original document!!! Sorry about that...DO apologize. This is my FIRST attempt. Got lots of stories similar to this and will post them after awhile. PROMISE to do a better job of transferring from my Microsoft Word Documents. THANKS for all the encouraging replies!!!! LarryD
|
|
|
Post by garrett on Aug 20, 2011 10:01:34 GMT -5
write on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! smiles
|
|
|
Post by roziedozie on Aug 21, 2011 7:39:04 GMT -5
Cottonpicker, we share the same memories of Hog Killing Time. Your story is beautiful and well written. It was my job to blow up the hog intestines (after they were thoroughly washed, of course), to check for holes before they were stuffed with sausage. There would be a wash tub full and we kids actually thought it was fun. Granny always made the sausage stuffing. She'd mix it up, cook a little in her iron skillet and folks would taste it for seasoning. I can still see all my aunts in their aprons gathered around that stove deciding if there was too much or too little red pepper. Thanks for the memories!!!
|
|
|
Post by roziedozie on Aug 21, 2011 7:52:17 GMT -5
I write poetry; it has kept me sane.
Morning Mantra of the Ordinary
Hands in hot, soapy dishwater, I meditate on dishes washed white as snow by translucent bubbles rising to mingle with morning incense of bacon and good coffee.
Here, in my kitchen, embraced by my pots and pans and substantial stove upon which I change the water and the wine and the beef into sometimes burnt offerings that are still fit for the gods,
In this my kitchen, where I reign as goddess supreme in a universe of my own making, I gladly sacrifice the use of my body to knead the bread that binds our family together at the table I lay before us.
In this kitchen, as in no other place, I celebrate communion with self.
In holy reverence and awe, I stand in silent stillness, thankful for this day, these ordinary tasks, this ordinary life, this opportunity to dazzle my Beloved with ancient, sacred ceremonies performed with perfectly seasoned iron skillet, sharply honed knife, onions, garlic and secret ingredients kept in Mason jars hidden behind the cooking sherry.
Amen
|
|
|
Post by roziedozie on Aug 21, 2011 7:58:38 GMT -5
Ok, here's the last one. That's for your tolerance. A Night on the River It was a hot, bumpy ride but no one was complainin, in the back of the pickup we lit up Kools and swigged brown likka from a bottle with no label, while the sun slid softly down. "Just a Girl Friend Party" is what we told our mothers, maybe do some dancin', polish our nails, drink some Coca-cola, bake up some brownies, and likely share a secret or two. When we rounded the corner the breeze from the river kicked up the dust and lifted our hair, we ran into the water, naked as jay birds, and swam way out over our heads. We made letters with our bodies, scaring all the fishes, as we floated on our backs making A's, Z's and E's. We pretended we were famous, just like Esther Williams, smooth moves, no splashes, mermaids for sure. The full moon rose and lit up the night sky, the stars popped out and dazzled our eyes, we talked of things like diamonds on our fingers, and promises we wouldn' keep. Way after midnight we spread out our blankets someone lit a fire to take away the chill the smell of the wood smoke strummed across our heart strings whispering truths from a long time ago. We slept to the heartbeat of earth and one another and when we woke up, we knew we weren' the same. We went home to our mothers, and if they sensed the changes, they never said a thing. Six friends forever, spent a night on the river secret smiles on faces touched by the moon there' nothing quite like a night on the river to show you the way back home.
|
|
|
Post by txdirtdog on Aug 21, 2011 8:34:30 GMT -5
Very nice Rozie! Thank you for sharing.
|
|
|
Post by cottonpicker on Aug 21, 2011 9:33:37 GMT -5
hey Rozie...... Enjoyed your poetry! MORE!!! Appreciate your nice comments about my Hog Killin' story!!! Those days are in the far past ...gone, but certainly not forgotten! My grandma ( a pioneer KY gal from the Appalachians who went West before OK was a state) was THE main cook, shaker & mover in our family!!
|
|
|
Post by camochef on Aug 21, 2011 20:11:27 GMT -5
Larry, another great read, although it needs some staightening out around cathead biscuits and Jack Benny. Still it brought back memories of butchering back on the farm. I can remember chickens, turkeys, Hogs and Steers being done in the fall. I kept waiting to hear a secret recipe for scrapple or pudding but... I remember my younger brother coming out from the city as we were butchering over at Freds. Three hogs hanging from the front-end loader of the old John Deere, as they were lifted from the scalding tank. My brother looked a little quezy, and turned away. Unfortunately he was then looking at my buddy Rich as he was squeezing the contents out of the intestines. My brother lost it as he ran for the pick-up. I could add quite a bit to your old-timey stories but I'll refrain for now. Thanks for sharing! Camo.
|
|
|
Post by camochef on Aug 21, 2011 20:17:50 GMT -5
Great writtings Rozie! Please don't stop now. Between you and cottonpicker I'm sure glad I was invited here. Thanks Garrett!
|
|
|
Post by garrett on Aug 22, 2011 2:32:30 GMT -5
encore encore!!!!!!!!!!!!!! cotton an rozie got it goin on.yu guys gots talent.
|
|
|
Post by bella18 on Jan 1, 2012 1:03:51 GMT -5
Just saw this now. Cottonpicker, I really enjoy all your stories, and rozie, you have a great talent, too. Not sure if the NOW women would like the kitchen one, tho. ;D
|
|
|
Post by gennyl on Jan 1, 2012 18:38:52 GMT -5
there' nothing quite like a night on the river to show you the way back home. That brought me back to the creek
|
|
|
Post by gennyl on Jan 1, 2012 18:43:49 GMT -5
I couldn't relate to the Hog Killin though. As a kid I was sheltered from all but the Chickens until the day we went to Great Grans for Spaghetti Dinner. My Mom had NO love loss for that mean ol' woman. As we pulled in the driveway that Hog was being hoisted up by it's feet on a pulley attached to the barn......EEEEEEKKK this 6 year old dang near fainted in the car when the blade took one quick swing. Eating Pasta and sauce was never harder in my life.
|
|
|
Post by garrett on Jan 1, 2012 22:54:15 GMT -5
lol
|
|
tweed
New Member
Posts: 46
|
Post by tweed on Jan 12, 2012 7:46:35 GMT -5
I truly enjoyed that cottonpicker and Rozie! Cottonpicker? Hog Killing Time reminds me of an amusing little story a friend told me about his late Grandfather: Years ago it was Hog Killing Time and Jerry's late Grandfather was going through the process, just like the one mentioned in your story. Times were changing as it was now the 1960's and people were starting to move here to the country, trying to get away from it all. One of the "newcomers" happened upon Jerry's Grandfather and said "Mr? Don't you know that all that hog meat will kill you"? Jerry's Grandfather shot back "Mr? Don't you know that there are a whole lot more people in this world who have died from wanting hog meat than on account of it"? Good old country common sense, right there! ;D Steve
|
|
tweed
New Member
Posts: 46
|
Post by tweed on Jan 12, 2012 7:56:42 GMT -5
I used to play guitar a lot and liked song writing. To this day, I get all these lyrics stuck in my head. Guess I need to start playing again. In 1996 I lost the closest thing to a sister I ever had. She died from complications of child birth (Blood Clots). She was a wonderful woman and mother who taught Sunday School. Only 26 years old. At any rate, I wrote this song in 20 minutes flat. My view is that God wrote it, I just held the pen (Hope it's not corny as it is the first song I ever wrote)...........
Linens of White
I know of a man Sent from Heaven up above His life was perfection And devotion to love Yet he died on a cross Two thieves at his side Now he's on a throne in Heaven Wearing Linens of White
Chorus
Linens of white Worn in Heaven up above One of God's precious rewards For life devoted to love Walk hand in hand with Jesus Let your light shine Go straight up to heaven Get your linens of white
Now I knew a woman Gentle as a dove Giving wife and mother She lived only to love Yet in quiet desperation We heard her last sigh Now she sings with the angels And wears those lines of white
Repeat Chorus
Now I know two children Sent from heaven up above God's precious rewards For life devoted to love If they follow Jesus And let their lights shine They'll see their Momma waiting With their linens of white
Repeat Chorus
Oh, can't you feel the soft touch Of those lines of white
|
|
|
Post by txdirtdog on Jan 12, 2012 20:12:50 GMT -5
Nope, not corny. It's good. Beautiful sentiments expressed as well.
|
|
|
Post by garrett on Jan 14, 2012 2:29:35 GMT -5
i like it too.smiles
|
|
bella
New Member
Posts: 6
|
Post by bella on Jan 23, 2012 18:49:10 GMT -5
Very good writing here, and that's a pretty song, tweed. I used to write songs and poetry a lot, but that seems to have gone with age. Fun, tho.
Would love to see more of all your writings.
|
|
tweed
New Member
Posts: 46
|
Post by tweed on Jan 23, 2012 20:54:16 GMT -5
Very good writing here, and that's a pretty song, tweed. I used to write songs and poetry a lot, but that seems to have gone with age. Fun, tho. Would love to see more of all your writings. Thank you, bella. I get all of these verses caught iin my head. Don't know if I can explain that. Here is another verse, that is alluding to something, but I won't say what it is. I just want to see if someone gets it. Right lane sees things clearer Won't take her back again Left lanes twistin in the miirror Wonderin where the hell she's been That make sense? Steve
|
|
bella
New Member
Posts: 6
|
Post by bella on Jan 24, 2012 1:01:40 GMT -5
Wellll; I have a couple ideas....but I think I'll sleep on that. Could be a reference to the past and the future....or I might be way off. Let's see what everyone else thinks.
|
|