Butter Roll

 After Christmas in 1970 I drove to Tallahassee to see Sheila Matthews and meet her family. It was with fear and trembling. For those who know our story, you know that by that time, though nothing was official, we'd each pretty much decided that if the other would agree, we'd spend our lives together. Now I was to officially meet her family.  

I remember wondering as I drove out Buck Lake Road how many times I'd make that drive over the years. There were no guarantees at that point, but I was sure hoping it would be often during many years.

I didn't know it at the time, but Jay and Mavis Matthews had bought a new set of twin beds for Jimmy's bedroom so there would be a place for me to sleep. 

Mrs. Matthews greeted me warmly and Jay, well Jay was Jay. He scared me. But I don't think he really meant to. He was jsut a man of few words.

What a place they had there on Highland Avenue, a sand road that was scraped regularly. Four acres of big oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, and lots of gigantic azalea bushes. Loquat trees and kumquat bushes. A big well-tended garden. And a small, cozy house.

I had been invited to come for the last day of the year for a special reason -- a reason that would bring us back for NewYear's Eve every year for another decade plus. New Year's Eve was Annie Bell Brannon Snell's birthday. 

Lillie Murphy Brannon and Annie Belle Brannon Snell (r)

Three "Granny"s: Sheila (standing), her mother Mavis Snell Matthews,
and Mavis's mother , Annie Brannon Snell.

Annie Belle Brannon Snell - Sheila's maternal grandmother.

What a wonderful woman. She was in the last half of her eighties that last day of 1970. She had grown up on farms along the line between Dale and Henry counties in southern Alabama. She and Albert had raised their five daughters in an unpainted house they built with their own hands on a parcel of Albert's Daddy's farm. Her descendants, spouses, and other kin gathered every year in Quincey, Florida for that occasion and the food is fantastic. It would not be an Annie-Albert Reunion without butter roll.

The house that Albert Snell built on the Snell farm.

Now, of course, there on the farm they usually had plenty of butter and lard and milk, and kept a good store of flour and sugar. And those facts made butter rolls an easy dessert. Annie had even had her butter roll recipe in the newspaper a while back. 

But on December 31, 1970 butter roll was a whole new world for me and yet very reminiscent of something from my distant past. I don't remember if Granny (as we called Annie Snell) made that first one or if maybe Ethel or Sue made it. But oh I loved it -- almost as much as I loved that whole welcoming family. Granny and her daughters and Sheila's cousins and their kids just accepted me as part of things from that first day. I knew this was a family and a loving culture that I would like to be part of. And, oh, that butter roll!

My mouth is watering while I write this. It has been a looonnnnnng time since I have had butter roll.

I got worried 25 years ago or more that the tradition of butter roll was gonna get lost to newer generations so I persuaded Sue and Mavis and others to help me learn to make it. As an old country recipe, no one really had specific amounts of ingredients. But I managed to make some pretty doggone good ones for a church covered dish and for a Baird family reunion, and maybe one or two other occasions. 

Suzan Redmon, Sheila's first cousin, is the real family butter roll expert these days.

Ingredients:

Baking powder        Flour       Water       Oil        Milk

Butter       Sugar      Vanilla flavoring

• Clean your hands in the Mama Baird fashion*.
• Mix a teaspoon or so** of baking powder with a couple of cups or more of flour.
• Mix equal parts of water, oil, and milk to make about** a cup of liquid.
• Soften three sticks of butter and blend it into one and a half cups of sugar.
• Sift the flour into a bread bowl.
• Pour the liquid into a depression in the flour and mix the dough with your very clean fingers.
• Pinch the dough into three equal balls.
• Roll each ball thin and cut into approximate quarters.
• put a lump**of the sweetened butter in the center of each piece of dough and wrap it into a slightly flattened golf ball sized roll.
• Arrange the rolls loosely into a baking dish.
• Bake at 450 degrees until browned.
• Add two cups or so of water to any left-over sweetened butter to make a syrup and add half a teaspoon of vanilla flavoring then bring to boiling, .
• Pour the syrup over the rolls.

If you just happen to have some blackberries or other fruit, or pecans, or some other sort of special flavoring around it is acceptable to add it, but plain ol' butter roll just can't be beat. They are very rich and delicious and made from simple ingredients that every farm usually had in the first half of the twentieth century in South Alabama.

A year or so after Betty and James Sanders moved to Atlanta from our church at Trinity where James was our pastor for six years, my Mother got a call.  Betty asked her for the recipe for "those apple rolls" that Terrell made for church dinners at Trinity. It's amazing how many folks are convinced that plain ol' butter roll has apples in it. Nope. 

* my Mama Baird always said cooks should wash their hands as if they were preparing for surgery before kneading dough or other hands-on cooking tasks.

**The terms "or so",  "about", and "lump" are oft-used instructions in country cooking I've found. 

PTSW: No Matter Where It's Going

Travel

The railroad track is miles away,

  And the day is loud with voices speaking,

But there isn't a train goes by all day

  But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,

  Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see the cinders red on the sky,

  And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with the friends I make,

  And better friends I'll not be knowing,

Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,

  No matter where it's going.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I tell folks that I am a territorial creature. A home body, in a way. I love my Northwest Georgia valleys and ridges. I soak in the rich greens as soul nourishment. Our environmental bounty astounds me and blesses me daily. 

But...

If there is one regret I have it is that I have not traveled as much as I would like. How Sheila and I enjoyed, late last fall and early winter, our ten days crossing the continent by car followed by several weeks with grandkids in California, then another six days by car back to this river side. It ranks right up there with our 31 day rail trip in 1979 from Georgia to DC to Cinci to Minneapolis to Glacier Park to Seattle to Oregon's coast to Frisco to Salt Lake to Denver to Chicago to Birmingham to home.

Here are a few pics from that trip...

Sheila writes in her journal whilr we sat in the scenic dome of the club car of "Empire Builder" as it sped west across Montana. June 16, 1979.

"

We purchased US Rail Passes on the last day they were available. The pass was good for unlimited travel anywhere Amtrak went for 31 days. We got our money's worth.  I did the math and figured we paid about 4¢ per mile for that trip. 

Sheila with two of the folks we became acquainted with on the long leg of the trip from Minneapolis to Glacier Park -- the train had some problems that extended the trip to 36 hours.

We scheduled our trip so that we never had to spend more than one night at a time on the train, so we survived without paying for a sleeping berth. 

Lordy, I'm a lucky man.  

Our miniature Scrabble and Chess sets attracted the interest of several fellow passengers.  The young fellow was just learning. Here, according to my notes, I was teaching him how to achieve "Fool's Mate" if the opponent makes the wrong move.

------ 

George Bailey heard a train whistle and stopped Uncle Billy:

“George Bailey: There she blows. You know what the three most exciting sounds in the world are?
Uncle Billy: Uh huh. Breakfast is served; lunch is served; dinner...
George Bailey: No no no no. Anchor chains, plane motors and train whistles.”

Where's John?

When a father-in-law, wanting to honor the birthday of the father of his grandchildren, peruses his photo files to compile some pictures of said son-in-law, it's reminiscent of the "Where's Waldo?" books. Our John is a great dad and husband. He loves his family and works hard to provide for them, physically and emotionally and spiritually and experientially. But, truth be told, my camera is more often trained on one or more of those three little grandgirls; I have to hunt John down in the background. And when I find him -- look for the hat -- his face is often trained the same way as mine, away from the camera and toward our mutually beloved little girls.

So, John, --- even though you are a Californian and even though we'd love to lure you to Georgia --- Sheila and I are so glad that you are a part of our family now. We are thankful for the great experiences you encourage for Brannon and the girls --- the fishing, camping, walks, beach-combing, music, family gatherings, church, play-yard, reading, gardening, rough-housing. 

I hope you have a wonderfully happy birthday today, a whole year of love and joy and adventure till the next one, and many, many, happy returns.

I managed to find you, John Dieter Carlin, in each picture in this hodgepodge of snapshots:

Clementine on her Daddy's shoulders.

Anyone notice the other guy with Santa in this photo?

Our granddaughters with their their Mom and a masked man ready to fly back to California. Susannah was "in the oven".

Frozen goodies in downtown Rome. 

Susannah and her Daddy.

In our backyard

Waiting below the City Clock for Grandshaw, Granny, Lillian, and Jordan to come down.

At the Rock Garden near Plainvlle.

At the Rock Garden near Plainvlle.

Dad may have jet lag, at Granny & Grandshaw's house.

Clem rough-housing with Daddy.

Susannah's baptism at Faith Lutheran Church.

On a rocky beach along California 1.

Along CA1

Along CA1

Christmas Parade in Vista, CA 2021

Christmas Parade in Vista, CA 2021

At Fall Branch near Cherrylog GA - yes, John is in there somewhere.

At Fall Branch near Cherrylog GA

With Mildred Greear

In Stanley Creek near Cherrylog GA

I love this one; Clem playing King of the Mountain with me at the Town Green, but look there in the background, loving parents looking on.

Whirling in the Sesame Street section of SeaWorld.

Hiking with Daddy in Cherrylog, GA.

Gleaning Facebook: Remember

 I hope the American people will remember these 31 Senators when they come up for a vote again. If there was ever a time when Americans should unite behind our president it is now. There is a worldwide movement against republicanism. What a shame that the party of Lincoln, that actually calls itself "Republican," has so many who have rejected republican principles and some even oppose supporting the battle against the evil Mr. Putin.

Whuppin' Hate with a Banjo

Pete & his banjo

Pete Seeger has been a hero of mine since I was a teenager. I was upset when I read that he might be a communist, so, as a naive teen, I wrote him a letter and asked him about that. He wrote me back! I was shocked and pleased to get the letter. He did not deny that he had been a member of the party, but did point out that many folks had been accused of being communists up to and including President Eisenhower. Even thugh I WAS naive, I read between the lines that he had been a communist and probably still considered himself a socialist. I als=ways knew he was farther to the left than me, but what a principled and small-d democrat. I loved his singing and his songs and afmired his activism, especially his strong support for civil rights.

When I saw this story on Facebook, I wanted to store it here so I could be reminded of it occasionally. I have no information documenting the story, but don't doubt that it is largely true. It is at least true to his spirit. It is taken from a Facebook post from someone named Chip Patullo and is used without permission. If anyone knows Chip feel free to let him know. I doubt he minds that the tens of people who read my blog see this. <grin>

Pete & Toshi Seeger

"In the 1970s, Pete Seeger was invited to sing in Barcelona, Spain. Francisco Franco's fascist government, the last of the dictatorships that started World War II, was still in power but declining. A pro-democracy movement was gaining strength and to prove it, they invited America's best-known freedom singer to Spain. More that a hundred thousand people were in the stadium, where rock bands had played all day. But the crowd had come for Seeger.

"As Pete prepared to go on, government officials handed him a list of songs he was not allowed to sing. Pete studied it mournfully, saying it looked an awful lot like his set list. But they insisted: he must not sing any of these songs.
Pete took the government's list of banned songs and strolled on stage. He held up the paper and said, 'I've been told that I'm not allowed to sing these songs.' He grinned at the crowd and said, 'So I'll just play the chords; maybe you know the words. They didn't say anything about *you* singing them.'

"He strummed his banjo to one song after another, and they all sang. A hundred thousand defiant freedom singers breaking the law with Pete Seeger, filling the stadium with words their government did not want them to hear, words they all knew and had sung together, in secret circles, for years. What could the government do? Arrest a hundred thousand singers? It had been beaten by a few banjo chords and the fame of a man whose songs were on the lips of the whole world."

First graders of 1953

 I have some fond memories of Mrs. Overstreet and her first grade class at Mackville School --- despite the fact that she swatted my bottom on my very first day of school in my life. There was no universal kindergarten in my day.  All these little darlings, including the woebegone fellow in the middle row in suspenders and a shirt decorated with images of the planets: six-year-old me.

I can only identify two people in this picture from the 1954 edition of the Thoroughbred, the yearbook of Mackville School, Mackville, Kentucky -- which included First through Twelfth grades.

How could Ms. Overstreet spank a fine little feller like this?

I have told the story of my first day of school to my classes many times over the years. One time --- over a decade ago now --- my student teacher videoed the story in two parts.

Pigtails - Part One

Pigtails - Part Two

Gleaning Facebook: "What does it mean for us, freedom?"

"What does it mean for us, freedom?"

The young Mr. Zalenskyy may not have the eloquence (in English anyway) of a Winston Churchill or Abraham Lincoln, but he has a brave heart for liberty. I am so glad we now have a President of the United States who also loves liberty and who will do all that is reasonable to help Ukraine.

.

Thank you President Zelenskyy for your courage and your example. May God protect you and give you victory over evil. And thank you President Biden for your quiet and effective diplomacy that has united the entire free world to rebuild alliances and stand up to tyranny.

.

If I have to pay ten dollars a gallon for gasoline to save western democracy, it will be a small price.

Comments:

Howard Smith I 100% agree.

Luis Schnitzer Da Silva Yes indeed.

Marsha Yancey Atkins Agree!

Melanie Knauff Amen and we’ll stated

Terrell Shaw Melanie Knauff Y'all have fun on your trip!

Marlene Williams Millard Freedom is everything

Katie S. Kimbrough Well said!

Carolyn Koblis I hope all people recognize we have a President now who respects democracy and does not step all over the constitution as the previous president did. Freedom for all!

What does it mean for us, freedom?

What does it mean for us, freedom?

The young Mr. Zalenskyy may not have the eloquence (in English anyway) of a Winston Churchill or Abraham Lincoln, but he has a brave heart for liberty. I am so glad we now have a President of the United States who also loves liberty and who will do all that is reasonable to help Ukraine.

.

Thank you President Zelenskyy for your courage and your example. May God protect you and give you victory over evil. And thank you President Biden for your quiet and effective diplomacy that has united the entire free world to rebuild alliances and stand up to tyranny.

.

If I have to pay ten dollars a gallon for gasoline to save western democracy, it will be a small price.

Elections matter

Bombed out maternity hospital in Ukraine.

We now know what happens when a (so-called) American president abandons and alienates our free world allies and aligns himself instead with murderers and autocrats, praising them, even siding with them against democratic leaders (as HWSNBN did in Ukraine). Shame on those Republicans who knew better but voted to forgive treachery in two impeachment trials. The blood of thousands of Ukrainians and Russians is on their hands.

As an elementary school teacher for 33 years, I occasionally had to deal with ten-year-old bullies. I never expected one to be our unitary executive for four years. I thank God every day that grown-ups are once again in charge of our executive branch.

Preaching from the Pulpit

Going through some loose papers today I found a little note I made to myself several years ago about an anecdote Mother related about her preaching. Mother was invited in the early 2000s to preach one Sunday -- maybe homecoming? -- at little Sunnyside United Methodist Church near Griffin.

My Daddy pastored Sunnyside (and Midway) when I was in second through fifth grades 1954-58. I remember that church fondly. My Sunday School/Bible School teacher, as i recall, was a very nice lady named Ms. Helen Spangler. I learned to recite the names of all 66 books of the Bible there. I have lost that skill, but Mother could still do it even during the days just before her homegoing at 98.

Anyway, after preaching that Sunday, Mother greeted the congregants as they filed out of the church. One old man, supported on the arm of his daughter, tottered slowly up and shook my mother's hand, remarking, "This is the first time I ever heard a woman preach <he paused a beat> from the pulpit."

I heard another good sermon from our outstanding "woman preacher" Nanci Hicks at Trinity this morning and couldn't help but think what resources have been wasted in churches over the centuries by disqualifying half the population from answering the call to preach ... from the pulpit.

On a side note: if you live near Rome and do not currently have a church home, now is a good time to come join us. It is nice to see Sunday "in person" congregations growing as most of us are now vaccinated and boosted. But we still have some folks participating "virtually" from home as well. And if you like to sing, come join our choir. We are a bunch of amateur singers blessed with a very talented director and Easter is coming;this is great time to get involved in choir. We sure could use any singers, but this tenor would like to have two or three more in our section! Choir practice is Wednesday nights at 6:30. Y'all come!

By the way, my Mother wrote about women in ministry on her blog; here is the link.

Progressive Taxation - the true Fair Tax

Anyone who can look at the economic history of America from 1936-1980, then look at the "trickle-down" years of 1980 to present, and still think that the "trickle-down" approach works must have a last name like Trump, or Walton, or Koch.

Most Americans, unfortunately do not understand progressive taxation -- the fairest form of taxation and a big part of the creation of the great American middle class of the mid 20th Century. EVERYONE pays the same tax on the same income. For example when top tax rates are say 70% that means that everyone, including even the rich guys, pay a much smaller percentage on their first, say, $20,000. When they have earned more than that a higher rate kicks in BUT only on ADDITIONAL income, in progressively larger progressively larger percentages until they reach that top VERY WEALTHY bracket. Only after they have earned the money on which they paid lesser tax rates do they begin paying that top rate on the fantastic income they earn as the year progresses. If the top rate is 70% NO ONE, not a single tax payer, not even the Trumps and Waltons and Kochs would pay 70% of their total income. It is unfortunate that MANY people have no clue about how progressive taxation works and that it works FAIRLY, dang it! AND, as this great meme indicates it helped fuel the "American Century"

Robert Reich does a better job explaining some of the myths of taxation in the video above.

I apologize for posting what many of you know well, but I am shocked to find that LOTS of folks have no clue about the reality of this wonderful American system of fair taxes that was altered so drastically in the eighties and robbed my children and grandchildren of much of what had become the American dream while driving the nation toward oligarchy

YES to rewards for entrepreneurship, invention, innovation, and hard work. 

NO to extreme wealth accumulation and oligarchy. 

Maximum liberty is always somewhere in the middle of the scale that goes from tyrannical socialism on one end and tyrannical capitalism on the other.

Reconciling Love and Principle

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”                                             - Abraham Lincoln, First Inaugural Address

Like Lincoln I have pleaded with some of my friends and relatives to to be touched by the better angels of our nature. We should not be enemies. 

Watching a report of Putin's murders of brave Ukrainian patriots on a tiny island in the Black Sea, while the cowardly traitor Trump extols him, I am enraged at the enemies of liberty here in America who still support Trump. That, of course, is only one of the villainous acts of the last 36 hours. 

My faith commands me to love my enemies, but it also recognizes that enemies exist. Some of folks I love with all my heart have, apparently, chosen to be enemies. I never expected to understand so well the agony of many during the 1860s when other Americans' loved ones became their enemies. I know people who still support the likes of Marjorie Taylor Greene, despite the death and destruction they are seeing on their televisions every day. Despite her appearance with the neo-Nazis last weekend. Despite her bright Russian-red dress and shouted insults at the state-of-the-union. But then again, they were not phased by Trump's buddying up to neo-Nazis and Kim and Erdogan and Putin.

The Trumpists tried to overturn our election. They attacked our Capitol, smeared it with their feces, and assaulted our brave Capitol guardians. Some at first expressed outrage, but soon made excuses for the traitors. In the last few weeks some of these same folks encouraged Putin in the build up to the assault on western liberal democracy. And now with men, women, and children dying every hour many still refuse to stand against authoritarianism.

I will always love. I will do my best to remain civil. But I will know and the Trumpists must know I know; I will not pretend this is just "policy differences". I have always and will always respect difference of opinion on monetary policy. On abortion. On universal healthcare. Etc. But those that support Putin and Trump do not only differ on policies, they have chosen to oppose the basic republican principles that our forebears fought for and for which my Daddy and many others risked (and sometimes gave) their lives.

I will do my very best to defeat these enemies of liberty at the polls with all I can of my waning energy, meager means, and minor influence. 

Remember this is a VERY important election year. We cannot let these unprincipled people take over our Congress this fall.

I will not pretend (so-called) Republicans are respectable opponents. They have chosen to be enemies of republicanism. That makes them, sadly, not mere political opponents, but enemies of America.

Still I will do my best to love -- even my enemies.

Be kind. Love. Claim your birthright so eloquently expressed by Jefferson in the Declaration and Morris in the Preamble and Lincoln at Gettysburg. Speak out. Organize. Vote. Get others to the polls. Save our republic.

Hand-Me-Down Sweetness

Susannah wears the same shirt honoring Aunt Lil that both her sisters wore at her age. Brannon sent this adorable picture this week. Lillian quickly relied with a snapshot of the pics posted on her fridge of Suzie's sisters wearing the shirt.

Susannah

Clementine & Ruth

Lucky Me

Our daughters share my love for musical theatre. Some of my favorite memories of all time are moments watching Brannon or Lillian on stage.  And on a few occasions, I have shared a stage with one or both of them. 

Last night Sheila and I had an uproaring good time at the Marietta Theatre Company's little black box theater, just off the square in downtown Marietta, Georgia, watching --- for the third time --- the madcap musical Lucky Stiff, starring our daughter Lillian Shaw in the role of Rita. The show's tickets havecompletely sold out for its final four shows. 

Here are some pictures Lillian posted on her Instagram page:

When Brannon and Lillian were maybe 13 and 8, we bought the 1994 studio cast recording for Lucky Stiff and they fell in love with the goofball comedy and Ahrens and Flaherty's gloriously ridiculous script and songs. The two girls would act and sing scenes from it for fun. I suspect they each knew most if not all of the lyrics to all of the songs. But Sheila and I had never seen the play on stage until we saw this production a couple of weeks ago.

One of the greatest joys of our third trip to this production was having a vantage point to observe the audience. I have rarely seen an audience respond so completely from beginning to end with big laughs and smiles. The MTC did an excellent job of casting. The whole ensemble was outstanding and each of the characters had shining moments. And, ahem, especially so in the case of the goofy Rita with belting solos and a larger than life presence every time she burst onto stage.  

How I wish we could bring this production to a stage in Rome to share it with more of my friends.