“Give me your earrings, Jew”

“From the River to the Sea”

“It depends upon the context”

“October 7th was our Fourth of July”

And, here we are

During Hanukkah

In the US of A

Where, now, anti-semitism is o.k.

Where, now anti-semitism is o.k.

If you’re a college President testifying before Congress

If you’re an Oscar winning actress

If you’re a graduate of Tik Tok University

If you’re under 30

If you’re on 5th Avenue

If you’re in London

If you’re in Paris

And, here we are

I thought it was “Never again”

Apparently, I was wrong

I will celebrate the birth of a young Jewish boy in a stable, in a manger, in what is now Palestine

Where the annual Christmas celebrations have been cancelled due to the war

Where I can think of nowhere more where the Prince of Peace is needed

From the time of Abraham, these lands have been in turmoil…kingdoms, empires, nations, invaders, protectorates, and then more kingdoms, empires, nations, invaders, protectorates until the late 1940s….and then more nation against nation

More complicated than any other part of the world

But, calling the Israelis colonizers is not correct. Hell, everywhere has been colonized. Since God placed Adam and Eve in the Garden. Literally everywhere….no, really, everywhere

From Timbuktu to Tibet to Texas to Tokyo to Toledo to Tijuana to Trieste to Twickenham

And, yet, the Israelis are stigmatized

And, here we are

With “Death to Israel” being chanted in this country

Death to Israel

My Jewish pals are not o.k.

I wouldn’t be either

Jesus wept

So do I

And, here we are

Happy Hanukkah to all my Jewish pals from one who looks like the ultimate goy. I may just light a candle tonight.

So, we went to a party

A birthday party

Where The Tams played!

Now, if you’re of a certain age (read as 35 to 95) and are from a certain part of the world (read as the Southeast) and know how to shag (read as the dance not the British definition), then you know The Tams

Be young! Be foolish! but be happy!

Be young! Be foolish! but be happy!

Don’t let the rain get you down, it’s a waste of time

A waste of time

Have your fun, live your life in the bright sunshine

The bright sunshine

Well, it’s the same ole story all over the world

Girl meets boy; bot meets girl

So, be young, be foolish, but be happy!

(J. Cobb, JR Cobb, Ray Whitley, 1967)

If you fall into that demographic above, then you just started singing and may be doing a step ball step step ball step shift weight movement thinking about adding a pretzel as you read those lyrics

If you fall into that demographic, then you have danced to this song at least once or twice

The current singer is 54 and the son of the original singer, so he was not signing at The Pavilion on Pawleys are at old school OD in Myrtle or at any of the over beach music venues up and down the Carolina Coast. All of that was before his time and my time.

Interestingly, at the same party a dear pal who is from Atlanta, and, yes, he is really from Atlanta, confessed that he hates beach music and things shagging stinks

OUCH

But, this is the same City that 500,000 dead Confederate soldiers died to prevent as one of my favorite college professors half jokingly used to say

I, however, love beach music and love The Tams

My parents reared me on it

In fact, on the way home from the party, I called my parents to discuss

They were so nostalgically happy for us that we got to see The Tams

The fact they weren’t there left me…. hurt…hurt…hurt…yes I [was] hurt like I’ve never been hurt before….

Sorry, that was, too, easy

And, you just sang along with that one, too

During Be Young! Be Foolish! Be Happy! the dance floor was packed, jammed, overloaded

What Kind of Fool (Do You Think I Am) also produced the same crowd on the boards

Taking a minute to use the facilities, I experienced what may be one of my favorite auditory moments

James Lipton always asked “What sound or noise do you love?” when he did those pompous interviews on Inside the Actor’s Studio

“A baby’s laugh”

“Horse hooves on cobblestones”

“My children saying “Daddy” when I walk in the door”

“Frying bacon”

Well, nope, not me

I love the sound of a good damn band carried across a party venue and heard muffled in the sounds of a restroom. Alone.

I’ll repeat

I think one of the greatest things to hear is a muted performance from afar knowing the party is still rocking and rolling and I’m at the moment neither rocking or rolling

I’m sure some therapist could analyze that one all day

But, I had to get back as soon as possible

Because, after all, it was The Tams

And, as my sticker said, I came to get down

Yesterday, August 28, 2023, my family joined a club

One that no one wants to join

I was on a call. I saw I had a missed call from my bride. Then another. Then another.

I told the folks on the other line, “Y’all. Something’s wrong. I have to go”

Sure enough.

“There’s a shooting in Chapel Hill. On campus. [Our daughter] is at her house”

“Noooo”

Well, from 1:45 until 7:00 there were calls, texts, messages on social medias

“Is [your child] ok?”

“Yes”

But not really

Our asking “Is [your child] ok”

“Yes”

But not really

All the local folks with children at Chapel Hill checking on each other

College pals checking in on each other

Our younger child’s school calling to check in with us to see if they should inform her of what was happening at her sister’s university

Calls from parents, aunts, uncles, folks in NYC, folks in CA, Godfamily across the Pond

So many messages

A call around 3:30

“Dad, our doorbell rang”

“Do NOT answer it”

“Dad, I’m scared”

Me, too

Me, too

Turns out it was just the mail man

I know there were a lot of Carolina blue tears

“Is everyone ok?”

Nope

Sure aren’t

Speaking of Carolina Blue, our mortal and most hated rivals down 15-501 let everyone know that there was only one color of blue yesterday. Thank you, Duke.

And, this club is one I never wanted to join. No parent wants to join. And, yet, our memberships swell

I was fine all through the afternoon

I was fine through the all clear announcement

I was fine on calls to friends and family

I was fine until our Chancellor gave his press conference. He’s been through a lot during his tenure.

Then, I was not fit for company

May not be for a while

We had a family member who was prone to lachrymose spells. Well, let’s just say I took up Aunt Carrie’s mantel and wept freely. Not that jagging cry with heaving shoulders. Just that one where water leaks from tear ducts without control for several hours

I pray none of you join this club.

Its dues are way too high and the membership is too large.

There are no benefits.

None.

With love and thanks to our friends, family, and all those who put the University of North Carolina on their prayer lists. Go Heels! And, yes, it’s still a Great Day to be a Tar Heel.

Rob Lowe tells a great tale of filming Tommy Boy with the late great Chris Farley. (Remember, it was he, Rob Lowe, who says, “These shoes are worth more than your life”. But, I digress)

Lowe regales on his podcast with the story of being out to supper with Farley one evening. As Farley devoured two steaks, he topped each bite with a pat of butter unwrapped from those little gold foiled packages in a pewter crock at table.

Upon being asked what he was doing, Farley responded, “It needs a hat”

Well, I finally caved at my age

He needs a hat.

I bought a full on, sun covering, Guatemalan made, straw woven, hand blocked, sun proof, water proof, leather strapped hat with wide brim. No, I don’t yet paint pictures of hay fields. And, yes, I still have both ears. But, damn if I don’t resemble Vincent wearing it. Full shade. Full stop

Paja touquilla

Palm shoots harvested from the mangroves and sold to dealers, soaked in water, smoked in sulfur, bleached, stripped, braided and woven

All to keep the sun off my face after fifty years of sunburns and questionable spots. We 70s kids will have to answer for all of that over the next 20 years

Technically, a cowboy hat in Guatemala, it looks like I’m about to audition for the remake of Evil Under the Sun. Or, perhaps Lust for Life.

Every year my parents hosted a Christmas party. One year, one of the guests had suffered a fall and had to have surgery on an ear. He arrived with one ear covered by a bandage. Our funny friend Jim Gibson leaned into me and said, “I didn’t know Billy painted”.

Well, wearing this lid some may think I’m destined for madness in a wheat field expecting return mail from brother Theo.

My children are mortified by me in the hat

My lovely bride says it will take some getting used to

Like the Mad Hatter in Alice, I am 7 3/8 in hat size. Or was he 7 1/8? Or was it that his hat could be purchased in that style for 10 | 6/?

Either way, I’m sure he and I are both crazy, mercury poisoning notwithstanding

If you see me round, just know that I can’t produce a starry night, or irises, or sunflowers

I cannot say enough good things about Delta Airlines. They get a lot of flack, but they did right by us on all levels on our recent trip cross the pond to see our Godfamily and for my wife and daughters to visit Harry’s House at Wembley Stadium

On the way there, a storm across the Northeast meant we would miss our connection to Heathrow.

Well, thanks to one Jean-Louis in Charleston, he had us on a later flight to Gatwick. Great thinking, and “Merci, Jean-Louis”

After a lovely time in London, it was time to board the flights back to the US.

Upon arrival in New York, we huddled with the other yearning masses at JFK in Jamaica, Queens.

“Anything to declare?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m glad to be back in the States”

“Welcome home, Sir”

USA! USA! USA!

Upon arrival from international flights at JFK, one must pull one’s luggage and give it back to the Delta baggage folks

Let’s just say, I think Rick and Sam had less chaos as they fled Paris in Casablanca.

Twas a bit of a zoo

We found our checked luggage and were hurried and harried to get our bags to the Delta baggage folks across the terminal

In an effort to improve all efficiencies, the baggage folks were grabbing and shoving and moving the bags along

As part of that tide of humanity, we tossed and handed and rolled our bags along, too, including my rolling hard plastic cased gray with green tag carry on bag. Without a Delta luggage tag

I didn’t notice that the bag was gone until after we had gone back through security

“Where’s my carry on?” I asked my family

“Where’d you have it? Did you have it at Customs? Did you give to to the baggage folks?”came their questions in reply

“I know I had it through Customs”

Seeing my frustration and confusion, a TSA Agent came over to me and asked what was the problem. He would end up being my best friend: Travis. His family had moved Nawth in the 1920s from Georgia.

Well, Travis took pity on me and said he’d cut through all kinds of lines with me and take me back to the baggage drop off on the other side of security.

It’s amazing what a badge and a uniform can do to part seas of humanity

“Step aside. Step aside”

Wink wink

Nod nod

So, back I went to the baggage folks who said they didn’t remember my bag

Why not? Aren’t you memorizing the thousands of pieces of luggage?

“Are you kidding me, Sir?” asked the capable baggage handler

“Looka here [insert Queens Flatbush accent,]” he said further. “No Delta tag, it ain’t getting on the plane. But, this happens all the time. There’s a lost and found form on line and Delta will call you if you have a tag on it with your name on it”

Feeling dumb, I thanked them and then relied on Travis to get me back through security

“Let’s face it, man, you’re not exactly the terrorist profile”

Feeling dumber still, I popped into the first bar I saw and had a double.

My family assured me the bag would turn up

As we were boarding the plane, sure enough, Delta baggage at JFK called and advised they had my bag, could I identify it, did I have a picture.

Yes, yes, yes

“We can’t get it on this flight, but when you get to Charleston, go to baggage and they will be waiting for you to get it on a flight tomorrow”

So, I did as told

The lovely lady at baggage claim in Charleston said they were waiting for me and needed some identification so they could put the bag on the next flight in the morning

“Will my passport work?”

“Yes, Sir”

Apparently, Delta really was ready when I was!

By noon the next day my errant luggage awaited in the Delta baggage office in Charleston

Keep climbing, Delta

I love the way you fly, and return lost items to jet lagged fools

Way before my time, the Gold Eagle Tavern in Beaufort served culinary perfection to locals and travelers.

On the site of the home of William Henry DeSaussure, whom George Washington appointed to direct the U.S. Mint. Mr. DeSaussure had the idea for the “gold eagle” coin to be struck in the late 18th Century. The Gold Eagle Tavern sat at the dead end of Bay Street where it turned left and became New Street. Kate Gleason, late of Beaufort, developed the property. So much history on that little plot of land on the Point in Beaufort.

After the Gold Eagle Tavern closed, Peggy Mitchell knocked down the old building and built a house on the site. In a bit of irony, Mrs. Mitchell’s house has since been knocked down, too.

Growing up, we heard tales of the lavish food, the wonderful parties, the high jinks during regattas and early days of the Water Festival.

Dreka Stokes once held sway at the Gold Eagle Tavern. Later, she would hold sway at The Anchorage on Bay Street. Even when I was little, Mrs. Stokes was ancient. Like Methuselah ancient. Like Hanging Gardens of Babylon Ancient. I’m sure she wasn’t much older than I am now, but she had a head of white hair, a tiny stature, and bird-like movements.

Sometime in the late 70s, the Beaufort County Open Land Trust members came up with the idea of writing a cookbook to raise money to acquire land in a rapidly developing town in order to preserve open spaces. Published for the first time in 1980, Sea Island Seasons remains in publication to this day. It’s a treasure trove of Beaufort cooking of a certain time. Locals submitted receipts for inclusion. See, e.g, Grits Casserole, submission by Mrs. George O’Kelley.

It being a cold, rainy, horrible, no good weather weekend this Memorial Day, I pulled out my splattered, ripped up, tattered, torn edition of Sea Island Seasons, and turned to page 254, to make Dreka Stokes’ Gold Eagle Benne Delight. From the Gold Eagle Tavern.

A totally diabetic, sinful, delicious ice cream topping sprinkled with toasted benne seeds. (Sesame seeds for those of you not from round here)

I serve it over vanilla ice cream as directed by Mrs. Stokes. I swear I haven’t made this in twenty years due to its heart-racing sugar content. But, law, it’s so damned good every twenty years or so.

Just remember, that one time this was fine dining at its height. I still think it is.

Gold Eagle Benne Delight

1 stick butter

1 can evaporated milk (12 oz)

2 cups light brown sugar, well packed

1 cup small marshmallows

Toasted benne seed (I buy the toasted sesame seeds in the spice section of the store)

Combine all ingredients except the benne seed in the top of a double boiler. I put it all in a stainless steel bowl over simmering water. Cook until “soft” and marshmallows are melted. (Mrs. Stokes’ original directions say that it’s to be “soft”). Basically, until it all melts and comes together. Stir regularly while the marshmallows melt. Let cool and pour into a quart jar/container and reheat as needed. Serve hot over vanilla ice cream and sprinkle with toasted benne seeds. Makes a quart of sauce.

Also puts a smile on your face

Oh well. Enough said.

I know it’s over – still I cling

I don’t know where else I can go….

I Know It’s Over

Johnny Marr; Steven Morrisey

The Queen is Dead, 1986

Well, she had a good run

The Holy City as a food town

We’re toast, cooked, over, doomed

From Carolina’s and Magnolia’s and SNOB and Garibaldi’s and Hominy Grill days of the late 80s and early 90s

To now not getting into any place without a Resy, Open Table, connection to the chef to get into anywhere

Tourists only

Bots only

Magnolia’s used to have a locals only line

Oh, if only such still existed

Swarms of bachelorette parties have now taken all the tables

E.g., out to supper a couple of weeks ago with another family. Behind us was a table of 10. One bride and her bachelorettes. They were popping champagne, swilling espresso martinis, and being incredibly loud. And they got louder and louder.

Well, “get off my lawn” here stood up, turned around and said, “Ladies, I know y’all are here for a good time, but some of us actually live here. Please quiet down”

My table was mortified

I don’t care anymore

Bad manners are o.k., as long as you’re from off

The scene is ruint

It’s horrible

I feel for the owners of the restaurants

They can’t keep open on the backs of tourists and locals are finished with it all

I have my name on a brass plaque on a bar at a local joint

Can’t get in there now

I’m listed as a VIP in some Resy lists for some places

Can’t get in those places, either

FIG? Good luck

Vern’s? You ain’t getting in

Chubby Fish? Better line up at 1 p.m.

$26.00 for a sandwich and a bottle of water at the Mercato on Broad Street

Reservations at Fast & French for the first time since they opened

“Local” produce arriving in the Sisco and US Foods trucks

Shrimp from aquaculture mercury ridden farms in Southeast Asia

No semblance of the culture that created this scene

Whither shrimp and hominy?

Whither red rice?

Whither fried oysters?

Whither shad roe in the spring?

Gone

Just like the food scene

“Top 10 Food Town”

No, we aren’t

When all locals stopped going to the Wine + Food, well, that tells you everything you need to know

When all locals just retreat to home cooking and their various clubs to go out, that tells you everything you need to know

Why bother to get in anywhere?

It’s not THAT good

Having been to New York twice in the last two months, I can confidently say that we pay more here than they do in Manhattan

Having been to Europe in the last year, I can confidently say that we pay WAY more here than they do cross the pond

I’m so over it

I’ll miss what we had

But, I’m sure that bachelorette crew from Atlanta will appreciate it in our stead

I own weapons

My family hunts

My daughters go to a school where someone showed up with a gun one day. A disturbed young woman. She did not shoot anyone thanks to the quick thinking of the then head of the Upper School

All schools in Charleston now have Resource Officers

All schools, public, private, parochial

All schools in Charleston practice active shooter drills

We never had such concerns or thoughts

We did have fire drills, tornado drills, and, it being the Cold War, nuclear bomb drills. I’m sure crouching under our desks would have been a great defense for a 10 ton hydrogen bomb coming in hot from a silo outside of Leningrad. That all seems so quaint in comparison to the reality of today’s students

I bet the children in Nashville had active shooter drills, too

I am a big believer in our Constitution

I am an even bigger believer in our Bill of Rights, those first ten amendments to that document much wiser people than I wrote to form a more perfect Union

But, something is amiss in our Union these days

I wish I knew what it was

And, none of us do

Despite what you think you know

Guns don’t kill people…people kill people

I know

But, you don’t hear much about school knifings

But, you don’t hear much about school bludgeonings

And, the media loves it

Absolutely loves it

I think it all goes back to Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado

I remember Katie Couric holding hands with one of the deceased children’s fathers

Such empathy

Such integrity

It really goes back to our beginnings.

During Pontiac’s Rebellion in 1764, four men entered a school house in Pennsylvania, shot the school master and either nine or ten of his students

In 1886 right here in Charleston, a young woman killed a man during a Sunday school class at a church

We have a gruesome history of school shootings

But, it’s become more gruesome since 1999

Here is a list of the communities affected by school shootings, Columbine to today:

Columbine, Conyers, Deming, Fort Gibson, Asheville, Libson, Renton, Mount Healthy, Glendale, Carrollton, Caro, Oxnard, Detroit, El Cajon, Covington, Santee, Monroe, Mattawa, Ennis, Jackson, Carmichael, Los Angeles, Scurry, Olive Hill, New Orleans, Red Lion, Wellsboro, Lawndale, Cold Spring, Spokane, Marion, Henderson, East Greenbush, Red Lake, Farmington, Jacksboro, Reno, Chapel Hill, Northampton, Hillsborough, Cazenovia, Baily, Joplin, Nickel Mines, Cincinnati, Blacksburg, Gresham, Oroville, Cleveland, DeKalb, Stockton Springs, Larose, Littleton – again, Madison, Portsmouth, Blountville, Conway, Carlsbad, Marinette, Omaha, Seattle, Chardon, Jacksonville, Oakland, Perry Hall, Normal

Newtown, Connecticut

Taft, Santa Monica, Decatur, Sparks, Centennial, Roswell, Isla Vista, Troutdale, Manchester, Marysville, Lacey, Franklin, Richmond, Harrisburg, Roseburg, Middletown, Antigo, Townville, Bountiful, West Liberty, Columbus, Rockford, Mattoon, Rancho Tehama Reserve, Aztec, Dalton, Richmond, Italy, Benton,

Parkland, Florida

Ocala, Santa Fe, Noblesville, Dixon, Edlridge, Charlotte, Baltimore, Portland, Stone Mountain, Highlands Ranch, Mobile, Santa Clara, Jersey City, Knoxville, San Diego, Columbia, Rigby, Savannah, Philadelphia, Oxford, Houston, Washington

Uvalde, Texas

New Orleans, Little Rock, Byhalia, Clarksville, Groveport, Bismarck, Oakland, Dover, South Bend, Richfield, Newburgh, Tulsa, Tucson, Toledo, Baltimore, St. Louis, West Harford, Orlando, Clinton, Albuquerque, Tallahassee, Fuquay-Varina, Chicago, Detroit, Rochester, Newport News, Portland, Stanford, Des Moines, Middletown, New York, Pittsburgh, Waterville, Dallas, Denver

Nashville, Tennessee

I guaranty we all know someone in these places

The grandmother of a murdered Newtown student used to live in Charleston and taught music here

She moved back to Connecticut to be closer to her people after that tragedy

So many communities

So many lives

So many traumas

So many tragedies

So many thoughts

So many prayers

And, still, we do nothing

We do nothing about sensible firearms regulations

We do nothing about addressing mental health

We do nothing about making schools safer

And, we won’t after Nashville

Because we don’t

We don’t care

Literally

We don’t care

We just don’t

As a country

We say we do

All the social media feeds fill up with outrage and calls for bans on weapons and debates about mental health and blaming the [Congress] [President] [Governor] [Mayor] [Police] [Sheriff] [NRA] [this group] [that group] and pictures of anguished children and broken heart emojis and thousands of “I statements” of how this affects the poster.

As Mr. Rodgers said, “Look for the helpers”

Well, we are they

And, still, we do nothing

For three days, the news will report live from the scene and talk to the mayors, the governors, get sound bites from the Press Room at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, no matter who is sleeping upstairs in the Residence

We have seen this play

Absurdist theater at its finest

The left blames the right

The right blames the left

And, still we do nothing

May be we can go a week without another school shooting in America

But, I doubt it.

“I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.”

― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or, the Whale

Another friend died

Another friend died

And, then, there was this party

I made cheese straws for the bar of said party

The bartenders asked me if I would like to try a couple

“No, thanks” was my reply

The widow of the deceased howled when I told her I don’t like them. Twas she who asked me to make them. We love her and her husband so it hurts. Death always hurts the living

It was also she who told one of her dearest pals for whom she serves as her child’s godmama that there would be no ducking tears. None

“Don’t you ducking cry”. I didn’t type ducking. But Apple….

And, by God, there weren’t ducking tears

Truly a celebration

An Irish wake without the keening

A Southern celebration with barbecue and cocktails

And pretty much everyone we love in this town

Every one

And lots of humor

And hugs

And kisses

The one we were celebrating would have loved it

L O V E D it

Multiple generations of families

Multiple generations of friendships

So many streams crossed

Talking to someone I have not seen since 2010, I said, and I quote, “Unlike us well, [So and So] never said a bad word about anyone”

That someone agreed and said, “Unlike us is right”. With laughter

We were all so glad to see each other. We had the mundane conversations. We had the trivial dribble drip from our lips

But, we all knew what we were saying

I love you

I love you

I love you

Especially when we made each other laugh

Mainly in the laughter

We don’t stop laughing at such gatherings in this part of the world. And, by God, I think it is the most holy way to honor the dead. The truest form of praising the Lord and remembering the dead.

It’s Biblical

Remember when Abraham and Sarah finally had a son, they named him Isaac meaning “laughter”

Remember that God required Abraham to sacrifice his Laughter then supplied a lamb

Remember that God substituted all our sin with His Son but He did not take our Laughter. Isaac He left. Laughter He left. A full sacrifice. But, He left us Laughter. I think it’s holy. I think we should all laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh in our grief. It’s holy.

As I write to everyone who loses someone close to them Jesus wept at the loss of a friend. Then, who are we to not. We can and should weep. And, we can and should laugh

And,, we laughed celebrating a son who died before his parents and his bride…waaay too young

So, our laughs were holy

So, our laughs were close to God

So, we laughed and hugged and kissed and knew we were with the deceased and with God

And we went into it fully laughing

As we will continue to go into it all not knowing what the future may hold

But there may be cheese straws

My maternal grandfather’s parents employed a lovely lady as a cook

Martha Shannon James

Martha Shannon to our family

My great grandmother, Eloise, died fairly young from what was then called stomach cancer

Get a colonoscopy, please

Anyway, Martha Shannon and my great grandmother were known to creat amazing dishes on a wood fired stove and oven

Cheese straws

Lemon meringue pies

Fresh coconut pies

Hoe cakes

Gumbos

My grandmother, the daughter-in-law of Eloise, said that Christmas at her in-laws was a treat

My great aunt, daughter of Eloise, said she inherited a lot of her mama’s and Martha’s cooking

In addition to cheese straws at Christmas, there were always what our family call salted nuts

Pecans, pronounced pee cans, toasted in a cast iron skillet with a half a stick of butter and enough salt to raise BP to coronary and stroke levels. So. Much. Salt.

In the 1990s when the whole “Deez Nutz” joke came round thinks to Hip Hop, all I could think was that Salted Nuts were now deez….Deez Nutz

I make Salted Nuts

I like to use Schermer Pecans out of Jawja

They are amazing

Not likely to turn rancid like those grocery store nuts

Every year I make them, even if it’s just for the home crowd

Because of Martha Shannon, who knew me as a young toddler

Because of Aunt Marion, who knew me until I was 32

Because of Grandmama Eloise, who died in 1944, and only knew one of her five grandchildren

Because it’s what we do

Hope y’all make some, too

Salted Nuts

1 lb pecan halves, preferable from Schermer’s out of Thomasville, GA

1/2 stick salted butter, softened, divided into 4 tbps

1 tbsp Kosher salt…my people used table salt but that’s even too salty

10 inch cast iron skillet or a toast tray

Preheat oven to 350 F

Spread out nuts on toast tray and dot with butter, sprinkle evenly with the salt

If using a cast iron skillet, spread half the nuts into the skillet and sprinkle with half the nuts, half the butter, and half the salt. Repeat

Place the toast tray or skillet with the nuts into the oven

And cook

Cook until the nuts smell

Cook until dark brown

Every oven is different

Don’t overcook or they’ll burn

At the same time, cook until brown and gold

At least 20-30 mins

And then dump out onto a brown paper bag under which you’ve placed some newspaper to soak up the butter

Let cool completely. They store well in the same type of tin in which you have your moldy mice, fudge, cheese straws

They go really well with everything, but especially some brown water.

Merry Christmas, Boys and Girls!