RRN Online Volume 310

May 11 '02

Volume 310

Dinner Guests Dining With Miss Callie

If you know the feeling Callie B. Young of wishing a night would never end, perhaps you'll appreciate my sharing a recent experience. Barbara and I were dinner guests in the home of Mrs. Callie Young, widow of the late John William "Billy" Young. Miss Callie, who lives about a mile from our house, recently lamented how she thought she'd see more of us around town once we got "completely" back to Pontotoc.

"Y'all stay so busy, I never see you," she remarked on Sunday morning after church.

First Baptist Church is where we know Miss Callie best. For more years than I can remember, she was Director of the Pre-school Sunday School Department. Barbara served as her assistant for quite a few years, too. Miss Callie and her family were among the first to make my family feel welcome at FBC back when my parents returned to Pontotoc in 1953. Readers may recall my mentioning that I became a good friend of her son, Jerry, who was a classmate of mine in the Pontotoc City School District. Her older son, Larry, and I became friends through our work in the church in our later years.

Miss Callie has two daughters, Cathy and Wanda Bess, both of whom are talented individuals and have also loved and supported my family. Cathy is the only one of Miss Callie's children not presently living in Pontotoc or within a half-hour's drive of Pontotoc.

"I should invite you over for dinner one night," Miss Callie later commented, "whenever I can catch both of you in town."

A few days later we received a written invitation asking the best night within a two-week window for us to be her guests. Barbara checked her calendar, and I checked mine and decided the last Tuesday in April would be okay, so we let her know of our availability and commitment.

The Friday afternoon before our Tuesday night dinner commitment, my boss phoned with news of an important meeting I needed to attend in Atlanta the following Tuesday morning.

"I'll be there as long as I can get back to Pontotoc for a six-thirty dinner engagement," I responded, half-seriously and half jokingly.

He stated that should not be a problem, as the meeting was not expected to last past noon. I was relieved to hear his reprieve, for I knew another week would pass before Barbara and I could arrange to be in town on a weeknight.

We arrived at Miss Callie's house around six o'clock, figuring early would be better than late, plus that would give us more time for visiting. We intended to go to the front door, but as we got out of the car, Miss Callie stuck her head out of the kitchen door and invited us inside.

Once inside the kitchen, we were overwhelmed with the aroma of food and impressed with the variety and quantity. The Sunday morning Miss Callie first mentioned having us over for dinner, she had asked me what we liked to eat. I explained that we'd eat whatever she wanted to fix. In my mind, I couldn’t imagine a Protestant octogenarian of the New South serving up rack of lamb, Mexican, or Chinese. Fortunately, she didn't. Instead, we were treated to a chicken entrée with enough vegetables, breads, and desserts to fool the eye into thinking one's stomach was bigger than it actually was.

In addition to the entrée, the "spread" included five garden vegetables, coleslaw, sliced cantaloupe, a congealed salad, two bread choices, two desserts, and two beverages, one for the main course and one for dessert. Somehow, I managed to consume some of everything (fifteen different offerings). It was all good, and I was able to get up from the dinner table unassisted.

After dinner, Barbara and I were privileged to peruse some of Miss Callie's "brag books." Some folks maintain photo albums of family pictures and Miss Callie is one of these, but her brag books extend beyond family pictures. In an earlier visit she had shown us some of the work she does for the Pontotoc Historical Society and introduced us to the Pontotoc Tale Tellers organization. The Tale Tellers seek to record the telling of events of historical and common interest to persons living in Pontotoc County. The material that I read was in a loose-leaf binder, though it is hoped that it will one day be bound professionally. Leafing through the tales, I spotted names of tellers familiar to me, Lou Ramsey, Claude Hardin, Shirley Hale, Claude Jones, to name a few.

Miss Callie was once in the kindergarten business and influenced the lives of more than a thousand youngsters during her "Kiddie Kollege" career. Not only does she have two huge volumes of ordered memorabilia from those years, but she has maintained an album of photos and Christmas Cards received over the years from one-time students. Miss Callie is blessed with many talents, but few are more evident than her gift of organization.

"See those books on the bottom shelf?" she asked, as my eyes moved toward the bottom shelf of the bookcase, "Those are from my trips."

There were six albums, one for each of the significant trips she's taken. I think she named them for me, but the only one I remember is the Hawaii trip.

One bedroom of her three-bedroom house is used primarily for writing and reading. Reference books are on shelves above a desk, which is home to her computer. She admits to not being overly comfortable with the computer. Though she is adept at using it in her writing, she balks at going online.

"Larry (older son) thinks I'm awful for not getting hooked up to the Internet and email," she commented, "but I just don't want to fool with it. I'd rather just write (longhand) someone."

In her bedroom are two file cabinets filled with articles she's written, clipped, or saved. I didn't peer inside them, but I expect they are just as well organized as everything else she touches. For example, inside the computer room I noticed a set of books on one shelf with a numbered label stuck on each one.

"You've got your Harvard Classics numbered?" I asked, remembering that the set I own is not numbered.

"Yes, and I have a notebook with all that written down so whenever I want to look up something in one of the books, I'll know which one it's in. Plus, I can see the number better than I can see the lettering on the binding," she explained.

These days, Miss Callie, who has authored several books and had numerous articles published corresponds with several individuals having similar interest and success. She drops names of writers with the same nonchalance I might use to list business acquaintances or friends. More than once during our conversation she detected I did not know the person she had just referenced.

"You don't know him?" she would ask, surprised momentarily by my ignorance, before explaining further.

Almost thirty years separate us, and I'd like to think that over the course of time I'll close that gap of ignorance somewhat, but I fear she's too far ahead of me. Nonetheless, that won't keep Miss Callie from trying to help me along.

"Did you read the article in the Progress (local newspaper) about Claude Hardin?" she grilled. "It was about his antique cars."

"You know, I do remember seeing that. I think I just looked at the pictures and scanned the article," I allowed.

"I wrote that story," she stated disappointedly.

The trap had been set, I had taken the bait, and I was caught ignorant once more. There are times when I should simply cut my losses and shut the heck up. Unfortunately, I don't often recognize those times until after the fact.

"I intended to read that story, but I suppose the paper got thrown out before I finished it," I stammered.

Luckily for me, Miss Callie had saved the newspaper. She fetched it, and I didn't scan it the second time around, I read it word for word.

Barbara and I concluded our visit with Miss Callie around nine-thirty. I left her house, thankful for the time we had shared eating, remembering, and laughing. It was indeed a night to be remembered.

Durwood Dreams Of An All Meat Hamburger

I was talking to Cordis and Cubell Young at Young's Laundromat on South Main when their older son, Durwood, walked in.

"Hello, Mr. Carter," he began in his usual fashion which tells me something of his upbringing every time he addresses me as Mr. Carter. (Durwood is two years my senior, but his parents raised him to speak to others respectfully.)

"I was just wondering if you've tried your rotisserie oven," he continued.

There are times when I am tempted to ask subscribers if they read the whole newsletter or just the jokes. Durwood's wife, Brenda, must have failed to mention to him the article I wrote describing my first cooking experience with the new oven.

Instead of succumbing to temptation, I replied pleasantly, "You should have been here five minutes ago, we were just discussing that subject. Yes, I have tried the rotisserie, and it's wonderful. Whole chicken is my favorite; it comes out tender and moist. I'm not sure it's as good as those cooked in my dad's rotisserie back in the sixties, but it's close."

In talking to Durwood, I never know when I'll press his "nostalgia button," but he responded, "I know that's true, and I'll tell you something else, there're a lot of things that don't taste as good as they did back then. You take an all meat hamburger; they just don't taste the same anymore. I don't mean a dough burger or one cooked on a charcoal grill, I'm talking about an all meat hamburger cooked on top of the stove."

Believing I had the answer or at least part of the answer as to the reason a hamburger doesn't taste like it used to, I jumped into the issue enthusiastically.

"You've got to have a cheap mustard, Durwood. French's brand is a good mustard, but you need a cheap one. Personally, I like Gold Dollar," I chimed.

I would later remember that it's been hard to find the Gold Dollar brand, so lately I've taken to buying Crystal and it seems to serve the purpose of a cheap mustard. For Durwood, the issue ran deeper than the condiments.

"You're right," he assured, "but the hamburger meat itself is not the same."

"You want to talk meat?" I thought to myself, "Well, son, have a seat and let me enlighten you."

"Well, think about it Durwood," I quipped. "When you or I buy hamburger meat, we usually get something lean, like ground chuck. It may be good for our heart, but it doesn't have the flavor, because there's less fat in it than ground beef."

"I guess so," he continued, "but regular hamburger meat makes for a lot of grease in the pan."

"And that's another thing," I explained, "most of the hamburgers we ate in restaurants and cafes, the ones we remember being so good, were cooked on a flat grill where they kept the grease scraped off the cooking surface as they flipped the burgers."

"I think you're right. It may just be that for an all meat hamburger to taste good it just needs more fat," he concluded.

And, as quickly as the topic had arisen, it was abandoned, then Durwood asked if I'd heard the one about the three old women who lived together. I had not, but since I later shared it with Bodock Beau, I'll let him use it in his column.

The day before I talked to Durwood, Dot Bell brought a beef loin over for that need slicing at my convenience. After Durwood had set me to thinking about an all meat hamburger, I sliced the meat for Dot, saving the extra fat trimmings to mix with a couple of roasts I had in the freezer.

I prefer to grind my own ground beef using one or more chuck roasts. These are usually too lean for ground beef, but I use them anyway. I figured the extra fat from the beef loin would help improve the taste and wasn't disappointed when I stovetop-grilled a few burgers that night. I made the hamburger patties larger than normal, partly because the buns were large, but mostly because I knew after cooking they'd be smaller due to their higher than normal fat content.

I used a stainless steel pancake griddle to fry the burgers on the stovetop. I didn't have Durwood around to sample the end result, but I was extremely pleased with the taste. Barbara, Jason, and Sarah can attest to the burgers' flavorful goodness. Over the next several nights, I cooked hamburgers three more times, using the gas grill only once. In every instance the hamburgers were outstanding.

In following up on the thought of an all meat hamburger (thanks to Durwood Young) I may have gotten myself out of the rut of grilling hamburgers and making dough burgers. I'm glad to know that I can still find a good all meat hamburger cooked the old-fashioned way, all in the comfort of my home.

Note: There's a family connection involving the Youngs mentioned in this issue of RRN. Durwood's dad, Cordis Young, is a brother of the late John William "Billy" Young, thus Miss Callie is Durwood's aunt.

Bodock Beau Three Elderly Women

Old age is better than it's alternative. Keep that in mind while reading the following.

Three Elderly Women

Three elderly women lived in the same house. They were each in their nineties. One night the eldest, 96, went upstairs to take a bath. After some time had elapsed she called downstairs to explain she had a problem.

"I'm undressed, and I can't remember if I'm about to get in the tub or if I've just gotten out," she cried.

A ninety-two year old and the ninety-four year old were at the kitchen table.

The ninety-four year old yelled, "I'll be right there," and started up the stairs, got about halfway to the top, paused and said, "Oh dear, What was I about to do? I don't know if I'm going up the stairs or down them."

The ninety-two year old, still seated at the table, exclaimed, "Well, if that don't beat all I've ever seen. I'm glad I'm not in that bad of shape, knock on wood!" then rapped her knuckles on the table.

"I'll be right up there to check on y'all," she called, "as soon as I see who's at the door."

As told by Durwood Young

SOMETHING TO OFFEND DAMN-NEAR EVERYBODY

1. What's the Cuban national anthem?
Row, Row, Row Your Boat"
2. Where does an Irish family go on vacation.
A different bar.
3. Did you hear about the Chinese couple that had a retarded baby?
They named him "Sum Ting Wong."
4. What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?
A speech impediment.
5. What does it mean when the flag at the Post Office is flying at half-mast?
They're hiring.
6. Why aren't there any Puerto Ricans on StarTrek?
Because they're not going to work in the future either.
7. What's the difference between a southern zoo and a northern zoo?
A southern zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage, along with a recipe.
8. How do you get a sweet little 80-year-old lady to curse?
Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell BINGO!
9. What's the difference between a northern fairytale and a southern fairytale?
A northern fairytale begins "Once upon a time..."
A southern fairytale begins 'y'all ain't gonna believe this sh_ _."
10.Times have changed. Years ago, when 100 white men chased 1 black man, we called it the Ku Klux Klan; Today they call it the PGA TOUR.

Submitted by Dena Kimbrell

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