One of the recurring topics of conversation between wife Robin and myself has been to compare childhoods. Usually this occurs during a meal, and often it involves what we ate as kids. Sometimes it went like this:
J: When I was a kid we often had ****** for supper.
R: How odd
J: Yes it was, but it was available and it was cheap
or
R: There were times when all we had was ***** to eat
J: I’d throw right up if that was on my plate
R: Would you now
or
J: My mother would sew my shirts out of printed material from flour sacks
R: My mother sewed all my dresses until high school
J: … If I wore dresses they would have been made from flour sacks
or
R: The only preserves my family could afford were grape jam or apple butter
J: Yeah, or we’d have orange marmalade which I despised
R: (wistfully) You had marmalade?
Recently I purchased a pair of Converse All-Star sneakers. As a child they were the shoes I desperately wanted for gym class, but my parents bought me an off-brand I‘d never heard of and neither had any of my classmates. This resulted in an instant demotion in status. I was aware of that, so I made sure that those bobo shoes moved faster in races than those of anyone else in the room.
In honor of those pinchpenny times when we never were able to say to ourselves “I am going to make a tuna salad sandwich” and expect that all of the ingredients would be available, today I made a baked bean and dill pickle sandwich. Actually it wasn’t bad, even though it wouldn’t be found in any recipe book or on any restaurant menu. Growing up in a family of origin with limited financial resources called for being creative and coloring outside the lines.
I never thought of our family as being poor, only that we had less than many of those classmates I mentioned. I still don’t. Being poor to me was going hungry, which never happened. Or having holes in the soles of my shoes, which did happen, but my Dad was an at-home cobbler who would immediately carve out a new leather sole from a big sheet of cowhide and slap it on on that drafty footgear.
No … not poor … just the awareness of certain limitations.
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Sunday evening we attended a concert in a local church with our friends the Evanses. The musicians consisted of a couple from Nashville, a friend of the couple, from that same town, and a local woman apparently conscripted at the last moment. It all came together really well. They were low key, friendly, and professional folks who obviously respected one another’s talents. Delightful.
For the most part, the evening consisted of singing the songs of James Taylor and Carole King. Here’s a brief sample.
It all got me thinking of that outstanding Carole King album Tapestry. What a perfectly good use of vinyl that was.
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There is a rumor going around that a reporter actually heard a Republican congressperson say something that sounded like they still had a shred of conscience remaining. The rumor, of course, was proven to be false.
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Looks like a temperature reprieve is on the way during the next week We may actually get to go safely outdoors in the afternoon.
That would be totally excellent. The amount of time lost so far this summer to those scorching temperatures is … what can I say? Every time I grab the front doorknob of our home, which is on the south side of the house, and my hand recoils from its heat I say a little prayer for all those in power who have continued to claim that climate change is a hoax, and thus delayed seeking what remedy there might have been.
The content of that prayer is between me and God, but I can tell you that it is not flattering to the GOP.
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Little Home In The Valley 
We have much the same temperatures here. I’ll join you in that particular prayer, if I may.
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