Another Easter has come and gone. While various groups celebrate the holiday with thankfulness many, including Christians, add a few other elements.

Last week, I pondered the spiritual aspects of Easter in preparation for this past Sunday. Here are a few of those “other elements” that came to mind spurred by the thought process of a six-year-old grandson. I will hold that conversation until the end of this article.

One of Spring’s pleasures after a winter of subdued color is the flowering of the dogwoods, which are universally enjoyed and mega-popular as yard trees. We are blessed to have them growing wild in our forests and are very common. Virginia is particularly big on dogwood, as it’s their state tree.

How many names can a community have? Well, we know of one that has had three. The Meltabarger family is well known and respected in their community. If my memory serves me correctly, Jim Meltabarger has been a county commissioner. He is now active with the Union County Historical Society and his wife, Joyce Myers Meltabarger is currently a county commissioner.

We had a lot going for us back in the day before television and DVD's. One was the City Briefs page in the newspaper. Mother read it religiously and never missed an opportunity to insert a family happening tidbit.

Let me tell you about that page. Happenings of the previous day found their way there. There was the police blotter listing all the crimes of the previous day. It told whose house was broken into and who was arrested for being drunk and disorderly. If there had been a series of break-ins in your neighborhood, you would be forewarned. That made good reading.

Mincey’s Musings
Year One, Week Fourteen

The weekend my mother passed away my good friend and deacon of the First Baptist Church of Maynardville, Ronnie Robbins, stopped by to see me. Tearfully, he told me how sorry he was to hear of my mother’s passing. He said, “You’ve lost the best friend you’ll ever have.” Ronnie would have known, for his mother had passed away some time earlier.

My mother didn’t always approve of everything I did, and she never failed to let me know when she didn’t. Even so, I knew she loved me until her dying day.

Did you remember to wear something green on St. Patrick’s Day? If not, quite likely you were pinched. Among the mountain youth of the 1970s, St. Patrick’s Day was mostly an excuse for pinching those who forgot to wear green. Teachers would make scissors and green construction paper available so that pupils, who forgot to don the green, could cut out shamrocks and attach them to their clothing.

"Fascinator." My dictionary lists as its second choice: a woman's head scarf. I couldn't find a synonym for “fascinators” in my Synonym Finder. However, I did find several for “fascinate” that are appropriate. They include: attract, charm, bewitch and captivate. “Where is this going?” you ask. If you were around during World War II and you were of the female persuasion you would know. We all wore “fascinators.” We thought they looked fascinating. You might call them head scarves or babushkas.

By no accident, Southern Appalachia is known for its rich musical heritage. When the Scotch-Irish left Ulster for America there was little room for worldly possessions aboard wooden sailing vessels. When they crossed the mountains into what is now East Tennessee they were limited as to what they could carry in their hands, on their backs, or on the backs of a beast of burden as there were no wagon roads. However, they were able to carry within their hearts and minds songs that told of life in the old country and out at sea as they were a seafaring people.

My mother couldn't make a cake for sour apples, but she made a killer sugar cookie. She never used a recipe, just dumped everything in her dishpan, stirred, rolled it out, cut and baked. I don't have her recipe, but I found one close to it when I was first married in the late forties.

"Even God Must Get the Blues"
Song by: Jo Dee Messina (1998)
Pick up any morning paper
Turn on the 6 o'clock news
The devil's been so busy lately
That even God must get the blues