Growing Up In Himni, Utah - Episode 10

Half a pack of Philip Morris and a half a pack of Newports

Hank Simmons was a regular at Hanley’s Department Store. He came in every day. Pushing his walker ahead of him he’d come up to the meat counter and mutter that he wanted, “some a that there meat there.” We’d give him something different every day and he never seemed to even notice. Bobby, Bill and I thought Hank needed a little variety in his life. One day it was bologna, another, pimento loaf; always just enough for today. He’d be back tomorrow.

Hank was an institution in Himni. An old worn-out sheep herder, Hank now spent his days hobbling from his little house on Cranston Street to the Limerick Bar, from the bar to Hanley’s and back home again. His hair was snow white and short cropped. So was his beard. We always wondered how his beard always managed to have a week’s growth; never longer, never shorter.
When I first moved over from IGA to Hanley’s I was strictly in the meat department. Gradually, though, my assignment expanded to occasional checker.

On my first day checking, Hank came through my check stand. He placed his lunch meat on the counter along with a jar of Postum. Postum is a non-cafeinated coffee substitute. I thought it was funny that Hank had just come from the Limerick, but drank Postum instead of coffee. And then, he asked for a half a pack of Philip Morris and half a pack of Newports! I didn’t know what to do. I got Phil Hanley’s attention, who came over and explained to me that I was to open a pack of each and move half of each to the other. Customer service was paramount at Hanley’s. Hanley’s was also an institution in Himni. Besides Phil and his brother Frank and taken care of Hank like this since before I was born. It was then that I realized that I could sell the other split pack to Hank tomorrow. He paid in cash and hobbled out the door, meat, Postum and cigarettes in hand.

There were two Drug Stores in Himni. One had all the trappings of the time, soda fountain and hamburger grill, magazine rack, small appliance department, isles of first aid and medical items and, of course, the pharmacy. It was privately owned by Robert Mueller, who was a franchisee of the Rexall brand. The other, was strictly oriented to medicine and was owned by Alvin McWherter. Some thought Alvin must be more serious about medicine. Apparently, that was Hank Simmons’ opinion.
Hank hobbled in to McWherter Pharmacy one day and made his way right to Alvin.

“Watcha got for constipation?” Hank snapped abruptly.

“Have you tried a good laxative?”

“Exlax, castor oil, nothin’ seems ta work!” said Hank, a mix of desperation and aggravation in his gravelly old voice.

“Well then, let me give you a couple of suppositories, that ought to do the trick,” counseled Alvin.

“What do I do with these?” Hank queried.

“You place them in your rectum.” Alvin answered with a professionally matter of fact tone.

Hank hobbled out the door and around the block to Cranston Street.

Three days later Hank was back in front of Alvin McWherter. He looked angry, frustrated and not a little distraught.

“They never worked!” he scolded.

“What didn’t work?”

“Them suppo, suppose, aw hell what ever you called ‘em.”

“Suppositories?”

“Yea, them, well they never worked!”

“What do you mean, “They never worked!?”

“I’m still constipated, that’s what I mean, “They never worked!” Hank growled through clenched teeth.

“With professional calm and assurance Alvin questioned, “What did you do with them?”

“Well, I didn’t have no Rectum so I put ‘em in ma Postum. Hell, for all the good they done me, I might as well a shoved ‘em up ma rear!”

It makes me wonder, looking back on my life, how many times was I like Hank? How many times would I have settled for familiarity, only to have God spice things up with a little unsought variety. How many times have I made rediculous requests of He and His servants, who happily complied anyhow? How many times did I have spiritual constipation? How many times did I misunderstand God’s remedy for me? I sure hope He laughed as heartily at my botched efforts as I have at Hank’s. I rather think He did.

Sunshine On My Shoulders

The leaves usually fall from our Mulberry tree all at once.  This year it has not been quite so dramatic.  Only half of them fell this morning when the sun came up.  I've seen all of them fall in five minutes!  It always happens first thing.  I suppose the frost in the night, when met with the warmth of the rising sun causes them to disconnect themselves from the branches that have held them all summer.  When it all happens simultaneously, it is a wonder to behold!  Mulberry leaves don't change color before they fall; so there was a thick blanket of green beneath that tree and a lovely blanket of yellow beneath the Linden when I looked out this morning.

The weather is supposed to change drastically tomorrow; so I decided to get out there and pick up what I can before the big chill.  I like to mow rather than rake.  It mulches and makes the pile more compact.  Compact enough to fit into my compost bins.  Composting, is much like cooking for me.  Adding this ingredient and that, letting it cook, summer and winter, until it stews down to a rich, aromatic loam - every bit as satisfying as a well simmered pot of chili or chowder.  Compost has to be blended just so and though I don't use a recipe, experience has taught me to go easy on the grass clippings - too hot and smelly, be liberal with garden waste and saw dust, and to give it plenty of time to cook just right.

The raised bed gardens needed attention too.  There were the last of the beets to harvest.  The onions did so well this year.  The frozen tomato plants needed pulled as did dried up bean vines and other spent odds and ends.

Six year old Megan came over to help.  She found the biggest beet and was so proud to show Grandma.  The bunnies love it when Megan comes because she's sure to toss some Swiss Chard and carrots their way.  She balances her way around the edges of the garden boxes, sweeping the spilled dirt away as she goes.  For her, it's all so good.  Harvesting and cleaning up; just as fun as planting and imagining.  Because of her, it is for me too!

I don't get finished, there is still a pile of canvas drop cloths, a pastel sheet and an old table cloth on a bench under the awning.  They'd been used to spare the tomatoes from frost for a couple of weeks.  There are a few tools to put away, but that'll keep.  I sit on the bench beneath the arbor with the sunshine soaking through the shoulders of my sweat shirt and just simmer in the last good day of fall.  I've rubbed some Rosemary in my palms and they smell so good.  The air is fresh and crisp, and I am warm and drowsy.  Composting.  Megan is trying to catch falling Mulberry leaves and Grandma has come out to sit beside me.  A few Chrysanthemums, snap dragons and an odd mallow are still blooming and a lazy wasp wanders up my sleeve.

It Never Hurts To Ask!

Saturday, my sweet daughter Katie conducted a one on one interview with author Shannon Hale.

Katie has a book Vlog in which she does book reviews.  A month ago she discovered that Goose Girl author Shannon Hale was going to speak at the Salt Lake Book Festival.  She was bold enough to email Shannon's publisher and request an interview which was graciously granted.  A pretty big coups for young lady with a new by burgeoning Vlog.

It was inspiring to me that she would step out of her comfort zone and make such a request.  Couple that with the fun interview that resulted and you have a formula for success!  Too often in our lives, mine especially, we don't perceive or take the opportunities that come our way.  Katie has inspired me to be more open to such opportunities my life.  We were all enriched by Katie's willingness to take a chance.  "After all," she says, "The worst that can happen is if the answer is no."  Nothing ventured nothing gained.

You can watch the interview here.

A Baptist Minister Shares His Testimony of The Book of Mormon!

I stumbled upon this interesting article this morning and had to share it with you.  I guarantee it will both surprise and enlighten you!

The Baptist Version
of
The Book of Mormon

Protestant Doctrines within the Book of Mormon

by
Lynn Ridenhour,

Southern Baptist Minister

Book Review - The 4-Hour Work Week

Holy Cow, what a refreshing look and life and living!  I wish I'd read this book 40 years ago!  Of course it wasn't written then. 

The cover picture is a bit of misnomer, because you're not likely to find Timothy Ferriss lying in a hammock somewhere.  If, and that's a pretty big if, you catch up with him somewhere, you're not likely to keep up with him.  He won't be "working" but he will be busy, have purpose, and he will be enjoying life.

Ferriss breaks out of the 9-5 rut in the most exciting imaginative way!  He challenges all norms, not to be contrary, but to find the vitality or lack thereof, in their assumptions.  He just won't tolerate leaks in a bucket that claims to hold water.  Most of us, blindly accept things as they are, even if they're intolerable.  Not Timothy Ferriss, if something doesn't make sense, he finds a way that does.  I have never found so much common sense packed in so few pages.  His notions and approaches are entirely practical, realistic, achievable and moral.  Not only that - it is completely adaptable to your hopes, your dreams, your priorities and your circumstances.  Ferriss is not trying to cast his audience in his own mold.  His objective is to help each of us to shape our own lives into something more individual, fulfilling and authentic.  Like any great innovator, he has identified principles, exemplified practices and freely shared his discoveries with us.

I won't be letting this gem gather dust.  Now that I've read it, its time to dig in and apply its principles in my own approach to life.  You see The 4-Hour Work Week not only instructs, it stands as a reference to which I'll likely refer for the rest of my life.  A life which I expect to be much better for having done so.