Since the city council recently authorized the use of fireworks within the city limits after a ban on them for several years, I am expecting to have three nervous cats in my lap for most of the Fourth of July celebration.
They are not as upset by fireworks as our dog Miss Brown used to be. One Fourth we got her some tranquilizers. These were ineffective in calming her fears, and they made her so drunk she kept falling down the stairs.
Thereâs never been a time when there wasnât a container of Yarnellâs ice cream in my refrigerator. Make that a container of Yarnellâs VANILLA ice cream.
In recent times itâs been Yarnellâs âhomemade vanilla,â but in earlier years it was just plain vanilla or maybe angel food vanilla. And sometimes its companion has been Yarnellâs black walnut, which my spouse says is the best black walnut cream around since itâs made with walnuts from the Arkansas Ozarks.
In some households, the âstaplesâ are sugar and flour and such. At ours, itâs been the Yarnellâs.
Would it surprise you to know that I am a year older than Superman? I am. Superman was created in 1932 and I was born in 1931. In our household back then, there were not many books, but my father read me the daily comics in the newspaper.
I liked the way he read them over the way my mother read them. He always put in the âBams!â â Ahas!â and âPows!â She skipped over all of those, and, I suspected, some of the other stuff too, but I couldnât prove it because I couldnât read yet.
On a recent day off, I spent a great deal of time on the couch in front of the TV. My main purpose was to watch old movies, but I found myself channel-surfing at times when I couldnât find a film to hold my attention.
During that brief escape from reality, I couldnât help but notice the number of commercials touting beauty products â mainly for women, but the fellows werenât left out entirely.
I wish I had taken an actual count within a specific time frame, but didnât. Suffice it to say there were many.
History has proven that any member of the Davis clan who goes on vacation is destined to become involved in a mishap of one sort or another.
The curse is well known and can be documented well into previous decades. Regular readers of this column may remember the âBig Birdâ incident.
In certain parts of Eastern Asia â particularly in the Chinese, Japanese and Vietnamese cultures â a sneeze without an obvious cause at one time was perceived as a sign that someone was talking about the sneezer at that very moment.
If this is the case in international circles and it transcends to American shores, I would have to believe that a lot of people are talking about me because Iâm a big sneezer â big both in volume and repetitiveness.
My sneezes can turn heads. Literally.
I was having a conversation with a co-worker the other day and we both came to the same conclusion: The older you get, the faster time goes by. Perhaps it is because of the repetitive nature of the passing of days. We become accustomed to the speed at which time passes and become a bit inattentive to dates on a calendar until we say âWow. Half the year has passed already!â
Anyone who has dropped a line into the water in hopes of catching a fish knows when that point in time comes around when a decision has to be made to continue fishing or head for the house. Despite all the best efforts of bait, location and the skills of the fisherman, sometimes it just isnât worth it anymore. This is the exact point in time that Benton finds itself.
Did you ever have a wig? If you lived through the â70s, and are female, you probably did. My oldest daughter called me the other evening and the subject of wigs came up. âWhere did we get those things?â she asked.
Wigs were a very popular fashion accessory then; you could buy them just about everywhere but the post office for a few dollars. Every beauty shop in existence had them for sale, as did Pfiefferâs and Gus Blass (remember them?), J. C. Penneyâs, and Woolworthâs.
Through the years a number of local people have asked for my motherâs spaghetti recipe.
Thatâs almost like trying to find the proverbial needle in the haystack.
Mamma didnât have real recipes, though she had cookbooks holding all kinds of scribblings on sheets she had stuck inside them.
This past week I made an attempt at detailing how to make her wonderful spaghetti. My effort was included in the Grits & Grace page that featured Courier employeesâ recipes.