Monthly Archives: August 2016

BIRTHDAYS AND BIG DAYS AT MAMA SIMS’ HOUSE

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Mama Sims

I always rolled my eyes when I heard my parents and grandparents talk about the “good ole days.”  They talked fondly about having to use outhouses in the freezing cold, and walking three miles to school every morning.  What’s up with that?  It’s like the grass was always greener during the Great Depression.  Whew!  That was way before air conditioning.  No, thank you.  But now that I am a parent and grandparent, I find myself doing the same thing, especially when I get together with my siblings and cousins.  How we idolize those magical days of our past!  Maybe the reason the good ole days are so nostalgic to us is because we are only able to touch them again in our memories.

I say I miss those days,  but when I think about it, they weren’t all so wonderful– at least not when I lived them the first time.  Good ole days are always better re-lived that first lived.  When nostalgia hits me, my mind especially takes me back to those birthdays and big days we spent at Mama Sims’ house.  There were two birthdays that were more important to us than those belonging to Washington or Lincoln– Mama Sims’ birthday, and Little Grandmaw’s birthday.

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MY AUGUST SUNSHINE

Picture 1The first time I met her I felt her warmth. Like a day with bright sunshine, everything felt better.  It was the last night of Samford University’s campus ministries retreat in August of 1975.  I married Peggy Skinner exactly three years later– August 22, 1978.

Our first meeting was all small talk in the midst of a dozen or more friends.  I’m not sure she noticed me, but I sure remember her and the way her eyes sparkled.  They still do.  We had all gathered just inside the entrance of the retreat lodge, about to make our way to a typical late night “Kumbaya” bonfire.  She was standing there with her older brother Larry who towered over her like a personal bodyguard– making sure she made friends, but keeping any fast moving guys at arms length just by the look on his face.  My roommate and closest friend, Andy, spoke a little Spanish– and practiced it on Peggy and Larry.  She spoke back to him in Spanish.  How I wished I could speak Spanish that day!

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THE “CRUB” MARKET

fresh veggiesFor YEARS, at the southeast corner of 2nd Avenue South and the Mellow Valley Highway stood the Ashland Crub Market.  Yes, you read it correctly– “crub” market.  A ten foot, homemade  sign emblazoned with black letters on a plain white background greeted travelers headed south from town, just one block from the court house square.  Almost all Ashlanders will remember it.

Obviously, it was supposed to say “curb market,” which is an open air fresh fruit and vegetable stand, common throughout the South.  At curb markets, we could buy fresh produce by the box or by the item, cash only.  It was a quick, happy way to usher those fresh grown veggies into the kitchen– especially for Ashlanders who didn’t have time to work their own gardens.

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EAU DE PARFUM

my sin perfumeWho remembers this famous brand of perfume?  It was all the rage from 1924 to 1980– at least for true perfume aficionados. My Sin (Mon Peche) by Lanvin, was created back in 1924 by a mysterious Russian lady called Madame Zed.  Here is its description by professionals who obviously have better noses than mine:

This feminine, provocative and dangerously seductive fragrant composition begins with aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, clary sage and neroli. The middle notes are: ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, clove, orris, lily-of-the-valley, narcissus and lilac. The base is oriental – woody with vetiver, vanilla, musk, woody notes, tolu balm, styrax and civet.

Whatever.

My dad owned a small town drugstore in Ashland.  He always carried My Sin (only one bottle of it) but kept it locked up in a glass case along with one tiny bottle of Chanel #5.  It was a handy gift possibility for some panic stricken semi-wealthy guy who forgot his wife on Christmas, Valentines Day, their anniversary, or her birthday.  It’s amazing what people will pay when faced with the probability of lifelong scorn.  I can’t say for sure that I ever smelled the expensive perfume.  My mom didn’t wear it; neither did either of my grandmothers.  They stuck with Jungle Gardenia, White Shoulders, and Tabu.  I might have gotten a whiff of My Sin’s legendary fragrance when some rich lady sashayed through our church foyer, but who knows?

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HOLY HORSEFLIES !

stained glassI enjoy officiating at weddings.  It’s a happy time for a happy couple filled with memories for a lifetime.  I want each ceremony that I am honored to perform to be a special one for the bride, groom, and their families.  It’s a sacred event, so I always try to make it as personal for the bride and groom as possible, and spiritually uplifting for everyone involved.  Weddings are a time for joy, but not for pranks and jokes.  Sometimes small glitches occur, but usually everything goes according to the plan. Recently I officiated a beautiful, spiritually blessed wedding– and this time the glitch was on me.

The groom and best man stood beside me on the platform as the beautiful bride made her way down the aisle arm in arm with her proud father.  As they took their place directly in front of me, the music ceased and I invited the congregation to please be seated.  All eyes and ears were on me as I began the beautiful words of the traditional ceremony.  “We have gathered here today….”

Now, here was the problem.  Just as I took a quick breath to begin, a tiny gnat just happened to be flying past my lips and was promptly inhaled like a flash into my throat.  Whatever I said turned

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