The Old Dillard Settlement

August 2001

Lee went back to his well-filled smokehouse and got a good smoked ham and returned to the praying preacher. He slipped up to the window, then pitched the ham in. Hearing the thud, the preacher looked up to find his prayer had been answered. (I bet he went home and friend a big iron skillet full and had gravy on the side.)

That night his testimony went on and on abut how God had sent it to him and no doubt he was thankful and thought he had it made, for sure, until...

...Lee Medley, who had come to the meeting, began to twist and turn. He couldn't sit still any longer without letting the truth be known. He stood up in the congregation and confessed, "Preacher, the Lord didn't send that ham, I did it myself."

It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop, then, almost without a word Webster left out, the preacher said, "Well, the devil may have brought it, but the Lord sent it."

I think he got to eat the gift of country cured ham.

Once upon a time when she was a little girl, and as she grew up, she heard Corky Craig and I do a lot of programs. She asked me to send her the words to three songs we generally had in the programs; "The Hound Dog Song," Four Nights Drunk" and "Grandpa's Pig Pen."

I think the late Corky Craig has been remembered so much for the song (which was a true song she composed herself), "Grandpa's Pig Pen." For you who grew to love the song, and you who have never heard it, I feel you would like to have the words. You see, her Grandpa Whit Davenport (my uncle) really had this pig and Corky happened to be on hand when this thing happened. It was so amusing to her that she wrote this song:

"My grandpa had a little pig that he called Old Betsy. He fed her in the morning and in the evening, too. Betsy got so fat, she couldn't even waddle. Love and fond affection were all she ever knew.

"Down in the pig pen early one fall morning, Grandpa fed Old Betsy all that she could hold. Betsy was expecting soon to have a litter. Grandpa thought a dozen and maybe even more.

"Down in the pig pen early one cold morning, Betsy had her litter, but only two small boars. Grandpa stood there glaring and Betsy lay there grunting. She had done her best and she could do no more.

"Grandpa said, "Old Betsy, why did you deceive me? I've been out all night and my poor feet are froze. When I tell my friends, they will not believe me. No more belly rubbing, just a board across the nose."

Corky had another verse to it she always sang, but explained to the audience that her mother, Floy, didn't like it, so I reckon I won't write it. It sure is true and cute, though.

I did send the words to all three songs for her to use at some programs. I hope her parents and sister Robin thought to deliver them, as they went to spend the weekend with the family.

Then there were all the books, some new, some old. The old ones had interesting things inside besides the lessons, such as, "Turn to page so-and-so, turn to another," etc. I never could find much at the end of the "turn pages." It probably was much to the owner when it revealed the secret, "John loves Ruth."

Do you recall how cold it was to go to the "johnnie house" or, tin the country schools, on one side of the hill?

How about the games we played; hopscotch, jacks, wolf over the river, still sticks, stink base, tag, fox and hound, kick the can, and we never tired of playing dolls and cars, cowboy (with stick horses) and sailing an airplane in the house when weather was not convenient to be outside. Poor teachers.

Do you remember the lunch hour? (We called it dinner.) I remember the sack lunches when the jelly would run out of the biscuit or slice of bread if you ha "light bread." Sometimes the egg wasn't quite done and it ran down on your clothes, and the milk, if you were fortunate enough to have it, might be "blinky" (that is just before the milk "clabbered"). Now, what should I say to you who never saw or drank clabbered milk? Forget it. You will probably never experience that taste, anyway.

Do you remember when we had to wait on at bus at school while it took one school group home? That was fine if "that feller's" bus was on a similar run. I was fortunate there.

Our children, grandchildren and great grandchildren are making memories, as well as getting an education. Let us help to make good and wonderful memories. They will know how to read and write their names, anyway.

When Huber, her husband, called for the information, I told him I would look it up. I too could not remember how much salt to use for how long, but I found my directions, called Euga and gave it to her.

This started us off on how we remembered once upon a time when we were still kids, how our mothers made those cured pickles and they would keep for so long.

When we became homemakers we recalled how the slimy unappetizing brine looked which covered the pickles.

A weight held the cucumbers down in the brine and cloth covered it. Each day this was removed. We decided it looked so bad, we felt it wasn't' fit to consume. We ate them they were good. The pickles are supposed to last for two to three years.

I doubt if the old-timers food lasted that long though. Remember the salt pickles you could buy stored in a large barrel? I reckon that was the good-old-days, but we didn't buy many since we lived on the farm and did the curing and canning.

This conversation led to the making of crepe paper flower decoration. It seemed she had written an article concerning this subject once.

Her family used to do this craft each decoration as we have expressed in the Echo, I believe. I never did learn very well how this flower making went.

Mother generally had so much cooking, washing and house cleaning to do she didn't do many crafts. But she admired the things others did like that.

My plans right now are to purchase some beautiful colored crepe paper and get to work maybe with Euga's assistance. Since we didn't have florist wire back then, I asked what they used. "We saved our old screen wire and pulled the wire from that" said Euga. I think I can come up with that.

Once upon a time there were no beautiful cabinets, cabinet tops or lots of cabinet shelves, but my mother once said, "I can go to my kitchen on the darkest night that comes and put my finger on anything I need." Wish I could do that, but in the first place, they didn't have all the things to keep up with. They used a hand mixer, which really was their hands, so no use for all that precious space to be taken up with a mixer. The bread was stirred in a single bowl with flour, in which a hole was made in the middle, a pinch of salt, a dab of soda (depending on how large a crowed was going to eat), then came lard, say a small handful, mix with the fingers, then pour buttermilk in the middle of the mixed-up flour and, as the flour was gathered up from around the hole in the middle to form a soft dough, there was no need for measuring spoons or even a stirring spoon.

Neither did she need a space to keep a biscuit cutter, because she just pinched off a piece of dough from the ball she had made, about he size of an egg, gave it a whack with her floured hand and placed it in the pan. Oh my, what wonderful fluffy biscuits came out of that woodstove oven-that is, if the shelled corncobs were brought in from the barn to give the oven a boost at bread-making time.

I have heard when young'uns would ask their mothers what the soda was for, she would reply, "To make the dough rise up so the biscuits will be light and fluffy." (Our mothers took great pride in this art.) When they asked. "Why the salt?" "To make them taste good." "Why the dab of lard?" "To make them tender." "What is a pinch of salt?" " It is what I can pick up with my thumb and forefinger." "What is a dab?" and so on until you would think, "Am I telling a story like Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf?"

I guess it's easier on young cooks to get a cookbook when it states clearly "One teaspoon, one tablespoon" and how many cups. I catch myself doing pinches and dabs, maybe because of the old saying, " "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." I do need more room on my cabinet, though.