The Preacher Hall of Shame

 Back in the day...when I was an undergrad...back when I had to stay up late finishing a hand-pecked, typewritten paper...my housemates and I would stuff our stomachs with bowls of Chicken Soup, down a few bottles of Double Cola, and play a steady diet of never-ending radio preachers to give us stamina to finish the job. 

We'd set up our typewriters on the dining room table- sometimes two or three of us- and ride the caffeine cola buzz as we spit out each painful page while entertaining our boredom with the likes of the Reverand Ike and lesser-known characters like Doctor Cross and "Rosie-velt Franklin, the Original Georgia Prophet."  

Between a maddening number of trips to the toilet and the blessings of Double Cola, we wrestled paragraphs out of our heightened memories, usually ignoring the "service in progress" on the radio. It was only at "break times" did most of us listen more than a few minutes. 

But the sequence of prosperity preachers, spiritualists, and downright wackos gave us comedic episodes in between our essays on Stoicism, Summerhill, and The Egyptian Book of the Dead. 

The Reverand Ike, who we knew from Fred G. Sanford, featured testimonies that usually included a woman in Harlem "getting a brand new pink Cadillac." Ike's show would go to "the service already in progress" a few minutes after the introduction, which was pure comedic genius, and became fodder for a series of late-night jokes.

Before midnight, Ike and the better-known radio programs ruled the airwaves before giving way to "Rosie-velt Franklin, the Original Georgia Prophet." Sure, there were other preachers, but Roosevelt, he was the greatest of all. "Remember, I'm the Original Georgia Prophet."

From midnight on, the "Preacher Hall of Shame" went into overkill, with Doctor Cross, who could "fix it, or unfix it for you." He talked about a woman throwing "goofah dust" on you. This "spiritualist" sounded more like a Voodoo practitioner than anyone who had darkened the door of a church building, let alone a seminary (or "cemetery," as we students used to call it).

The later it got, the stranger the preachers, the more deviant from any shade of Christian syncretism they proposed. The preaching became so non-sensical that it sounded more like bad actors trying to sell electrical healing units to Amish people than anything anyone sane would listen to and believe. But since our college town had a group of Hare Krishnas two streets away (Hare Ramen) and a couple of well-developed cults, we laughed off these crazy preachers rather than find them harmful. If we could scare off the Hare Krishnas, these wackos were juvenile in comparison. 

But the truth is that these preachers became wealthy enough to have churches and programs that enriched them, and they became more manipulative, when not just individuals, but the masses fell for their tricks. 

The world is full of strange and irrational preachers on every existing form of media, and while they are so simple I ignore them, there are too many out there who can fall for their age-old tricks, as long as there is one who doesn't know reality, one who doesn't know the truth, one who doesn't know The One these preachers should have been preaching about from the beginning. 

Mind The Gap

 Running around metro Dublin... on the train, off the train. Mind the Gap. To the tram, off the tram. Tap on, tap off. Mind the Gap. A week later and the message to mind the gap between the platform and the door opening tumbled around in my brain till the message stuck in my head like a locked laundry door. 

Every time you get off the train and must stretch over the gap to get to the platform, you leave where you were and head to where you're going. that gap between the train and the platform is serious. one wrong step, and you've hurt yourself. or, like the large gap at Tara Station, in Dublin, it can be so wide, you're hopping out, jumping across the gap.

We go about our lives daily, oblivious to the danger. How many times have we missed a disaster? 

It is easy to do something stupid...like break your toe running into a heavy lampstand. Unfortunately, inertia and gravity effect the best of us, and like the lady who complained that she had "fallen and I can't get up," it happens to the young, the old, and the in-between. I would know...I am that feckin' eejit who managed to run into a heavy lampstand.

I did not "mind the lampstand." I did not follow "safety first." I should have, like minding the gap, stopped and looked at what was in front of me. It is times like these that remind us that there is nothing so important that we need to forget what situation we are in...to get somewhere fast. 

And while there are situations that require quick thinking, it is instructive to remind ourselves that flying around like a seagull on steroids is not the best way to live life. 

I had forgotten the message from Irish Rail...Mind the Gap. I shall not...hopefully, forget again. Pray you step over the metal lampstand. 

short tan and teddy

 I was born a poor white boy- it went downhill from there. I was the shortest dude in third grade- I had to stand at the back of the line because the teacher had us line up according to height. That was my first sign someone was bulking up on the Miracle Grow. 

In fourth grade I found out I was “white.” Someone called Felipe Lopez “brown,” and I questioned why they did that. The pale kid with the missing tooth said, “Because you’re white, man.” I never knew that. I went to look in the mirror and I swore I couldn’t figure out what in the world he was talking about. I grabbed a Crayola, but there wasn't one crayon, even the factory-reject tan one, that came close to my skin color. 

Enter the age of Puberty. My Puberty Bowl problems were bigger than the Crayola box. The taller, gangly-looking guys, uglier than sin, were the object of intense giggling from the females in class. You could be too tall and have a zit the size of Montana, and some buxom blonde thought you were a "hunk." I was never tall, except to my stuffed animals, and kids that still drooled. Rarely did being short have its advantages, except when trying to hide from bullies. 

As I passed into adolescence, things did not seem to improve. Some of the girls started showing some shape, but I was not keeping pace with the boys who got their attention. I could still crawl under the school desk. I was a bigger hit with the teachers, who enjoyed my adolescent naivety, when I did my Carnac the Magnificent (Johnny Carson) impressions, with little understanding of what made them so funny to an adult man.

Then, one day, after doing the voices of Richard Nixon, Jimmy Stewart,  and Ed McMahon, I told the latest Carnac line to a shocked Math teacher, some tall boys, and some cute girls. That math teacher ordered me into the hallway and gave me a lecture that seemed to last all afternoon. I was banned from stand-up comedy...and even sit-down comedy. He took away my only talent for getting the girls to notice me. I left class feeling about a foot high...

...because I was told to go upstairs to the office of the weirdest woman I ever met. She asked me ludicrous, insane questions. I determined that my teachers had ended up getting me in trouble instead of implicating themselves. Frankly, the psych woman was so off her rocker that I left her office feeling like I had just met the most unstable woman in the world.

Well, I won't do that again.

That did not stop me from telling jokes or doing impressions, just not around the teachers. I found out I could be myself and the female race would actually pay attention. As I aged, and grew facial hair, a few found me "teddy-bear like" enough to want to be my girlfriend, and even hug and kiss. You're the cutest little teddy bear in the whole wide world...

So eventually I gave up trying to be tall, dark, and handsome, and settled for short, tan, and teddy. I did not grow up to be the most handsome man in the world, but thank God, I did grow up to be cuddly.  

Ginger Curry Chicken

Chicken can be bland, even boring. One way to maximize the flavor of chicken is to pair it with spices and herbs- in that order. Garlic, ginger, french tarragon, mushrooms, butter, curry powder all contribute to this dish to make it a tasty meal. The recipe below serves two people, or as I like to say, three people with the appetite of a small bird.

1 pound of chicken

Three or four mushrooms

fresh ginger root

 French tarragon

fresh cilantro

fresh parsley

1/2 cup plain whole milk yogurt

2 scallions

Broccoli

olive oil

butter

3 cloves of garlic

black pepper

curry powder

rosemary

Large sauce or frying pan

knife

fork

In a large pan, usually used for preparing a meal over a stove or fire, drizzle olive oil in the pan. Wash chicken pieces and place in the pan. Cut up three cloves of garlic, a large piece of ginger, 2 scallions, small pieces of broccoli, and three or four mushrooms. Place in pan around chicken pieces. Cut up cilantro (and parsley if desired) and add black pepper, rosemary (to taste) and curry powder and place on top of the ingredients. Cover with lid and heat on low to medium level flame, so as to keep from burning the chicken. Let cook about 15 minutes, then add 1/2 cup plain whole milk yogurt, and spoon in more curry powder with that yogurt. Cook about 20-25 minutes on low heat, checking to see when finished. With a knife and fork check your chicken a few times to make sure the chicken is cooked and not overdone. Overcooked chicken is your enemy as much as making sure it is cooked and tender. When finished, dish out on plates and add a generous amount of butter to top each meal. Bon appetite!

                                                                                                                                          

 

Forgotten Places

 

Deep in the folds of the foothills, a window of America is in decay. The last remnants are metal, concrete, and stone. All the wooden buildings, wooden siding, door handles, and slate roofs lay downstream from the present. 

Along the backroads, even the edges are decaying...rusting road signs, rusting pipelines, rusting oil wells...

...and abandoned gravestones, missing heads and bodies, like the characters they commemorate, buried beyond history.

This is a window into a rural America that tells a tale of death and rebirth...the disappearance of a community, and the advancement of young growth...twisted, wiry trees in a bottom land along a creek bank...

the streets missing, the houses missing, the people missing...

their memory fading with the signs...

The majority of this town along Dye's Fork disappeared with the 1913 flood, washing away hopes and dreams. The rest of the town died when the Pauls, Raceys, and Blackburns began inhabiting the two cemeteries, rather than the village, and culminated when a coal company bought the land around the general store. Finally, in 1972, that store closed. The structure collapsed in on itself, and only a skeletal bridge, a historical sign (that has faded), and part of a stone wall survive.

This town, Renrock, Ohio, reflects the story of many rural towns in the hills of Ohio, passing from a time when pioneers settled, through natural disasters, and into oblivion, aided by death, real estate agents, and the passage of time.

There are many Renrocks in this country. It is my intention to discover many of these forgotten places, to unearth their history, and showcase  their remains as warmer weather comes to the edge of Appalachia.

Join me in the coming months as we explore forgotten places in Appalachia and the Midwest.

Egg and Avocado Burritos

In this new improved world we live in, we have a better understanding of the necessity of supplying our bodies with good fats to maintain a healthy body. I have added a recipe to feature some of the finer fats and eggs to make a "light" dinner.

Daithi's Egg and Avocado Burritos

Ingredients:

Three soft-boiled eggs or three scrambled eggs in butter

One Avocado

Pico De Gallo

Butter

Black Pepper

Dill Weed

French Tarragon or Cilantro

Dona Maria's Napolitos

Queso Blanco

Two tortillas

Medium or large frying pan or saucepan

Spatula

Knife, Spoon

In a pot of water, boil the eggs about 6 minutes. In a small bowl, mash the eggs and add ground black pepper to taste, with a pinch of french tarragon (or cilantro), and a few sprigs of fresh dill weed.

Or, in a medium sized frying pan/saucepan, scramble three eggs in butter, ground black pepper, a teaspoon of french tarragon (or cilantro), and a few sprigs of fresh dill weed. 

Put the egg mixture aside on a warm plate. Slice the avocado in half, and remove the seed. Spoon out, or remove with a knife, all of the avocado and place it on the same warm plate, or bowl, as the eggs. Add a tablespoon of napolitos (cactus) and stir the mixture. Extract two tortillas from a package, and place them on another plate.

Put the egg-avocado mixture into the tortilla, add desired pico de gallo, and shredded or cut queso blanco to taste. In the frying pan or saucepan, add enough butter to saute the burritos. Wrap the ingredients into a blanket-like burrito and put carefully into the pan. Turn the flame on low and saute them. Using a spatula, press down on the burritos as they cook. Flip each burrito over once each side is colored, but not brown. When each side is colored- 5 minutes or so, turn off the flame, and remove the burritos from the pan to a plate. Enjoy!