When I was growing up during the Great Depression, we didn't have meat at every meal. Mother might fix fried eggs and fried potatoes for supper, but that was about it. Meat, such as bacon, wasn't used as an entree, but for seasoning. Boiled potatoes with their jackets on and scorched gravy was the norm.

Dad's mother, Delora Thayer Stimer, smoked a clay pipe. He said that only the family knew it. After all, smoking was frowned upon by the Wesleyan Methodist Church. She was a devote member.

But Grandma was English. Clay pipes had been around since the sixteenth century over there. It was a form of relaxation for many women, both of the gentry and the working class. She didn't drink, but she certainly did smoke.

Has there ever been an Arthur Treacher's Fish and Chips place around here? I consider their fish the best ever. I read on Facebook that there is one located somewhere in Ohio. That won't help my yearning for their fish triangles. But I do have the recipe that I will share with you.

You know, copy-cat recipes are published for popular restaurant dishes from time to time. Usually, they only taste somewhat like the desired item. There are even cookbooks published that claim to have prized recipes. This is the only recipe I have ever found to be as good as the original.

When you lived in the country, shopping in town was an all day affair. You would plan to eat lunch there. For me, it was the highlight of the trip. I planned my route and time to take me to my favorite spot for lunch. Isn't that a deliciously sounding word - “lunch”? I made a list of my shopping needs. I knew which store sold what at the price I could afford. I always planned to afford lunch.

Glenn Campbell had a song a while back called, “A Lineman for the County.” My dad was a lineman during the twenties and, again, just before World War ll. Dad worked out of an AFL union hall in Grand Rapids, Michigan. That was how you got that job in those days. Dad worked at various sites in the Midwest. He didn't work for any county.

Back in 1960 there were three ways to get to California, the same as now: automobile, train or plane. My stepfather's son lived in a suburb of Sacramento. He hadn't seen his son since Jimmy discharged from the Navy. Jimmy had married and was the father of a five year old daughter. My stepfather was anxious to visit them.

The Union County Memoir Class has three sessions under its belt. We have a good mix of Union County people and there is room for more. The first class had six participants and the last two had eight. Their stories reflect Union County living.

Shirley Temple was born April 23, 1928. I was born January 11, 1928. That makes me older than that pint-sized movie star. Hold onto that thought and backtrack a bit. Popular names come and go. Shirley was a popular name for girls and boys, too, at the time. I went to school in Joliet, Illinois with four other Shirley's in my class. I even dated a guy named Shirley. He preferred to be called Bill.

Nowadays a man can get a haircut in a beauty salon. There was a time a man wouldn't have been caught dead in one. My, how times have changed. I got to thinking about a very special haircut when I was getting my hair cut at the the Cutting Crew salon in Maynardville the other day.

The incident I want to tell you about happened in the early 70's. There was a small barbershop on the road into town, like a number of one room barber shops in those years. This one went out of business shortly after our visit.

There was an old song that went like this: “B-I-N-G-O! B-I-N-G-O! And Bingo was his name-o!” But our dog was named B-A-N-J-O. Banjo was his name-o. Dad had a dog named Banjo when he was a boy and wanted us to have one, too. I was only five when Dad brought home the beagle puppy in 1934.