Happy as a Dead Pig in Sunshine

There are many southern sayings that were common a generation or two ago that would be Greek to the ears of the millennial generation. I will discuss a few of the expressions that Delmont might have said concerning being happy or smiling.
 
As happy as a dead pig in sunshine -
I will have to admit that I did not know the origin of the saying. I just thought a lazy pig laying in the sunshine, looking asleep and dead to the world, was a peaceful sight. However, in a Facebook post, I saw the following plausible origin. When a pig dies, presumably in a sty outside, the sun dries out its skin. This effect pulls the pig’s lips back to reveal a toothy “grin,” making it look happy even though it’s dead. This phrase describes a person who’s blissfully ignorant of reality.
 
I was as happy as a pig in slop (or a pig in a wallow) - These are of course terms associated with pigs on a farm. Farm families collected all of the leftover food not given to dogs in a slop bucket. This bucket was taken to the pig pen and poured into a V-shaped trough. Pigs like to eat, so when they were into the slop, they were very happy. A wallow is a dugout area which is usually very muddy. Hogs love to roll around in the cool mud on a hot day.
 

He was grinnin' like a egg suckin dog with feathers out his ears -  Just like Johnny Cash, we had an egg sucking dog.  He was a boxer bulldog and his name was Joe. He had been rescued by my cousins at the fairgrounds in Columbus Mississippi. I loved that dog, but my Daddy had a real problem with him. Joe liked to raid the hen house. When Daddy caught Joe with egg on his face, he would yell to the top of his lungs and find a stick if he could get a hold of one. So, if he had egg on his face and feathers in his ears, it would indicate that he not only raided the eggs, he probably killed a chicken or two for good measure. So if someone looked like an egg sucking dog with feathers in his ears, he was probably someone guilty of some despicable act.   He was grinnin' like a possum eatin' green persimmons - On our farm, just behind Piney Grove Nazarene church, there was a big persimmon tree. Persimmons are caviar for possums. If persimmons are very ripe, they are very tasty. However, if you eat one even slightly green, it will taste so bitter that your mouth will be so puckered that it will pull your ears forward 2 inches. I imagine it has the same effect on possums.   I'm finer than a frog hair - That is mighty fine. You must be feeling extra good if you reply with this phrase when answering, "Howdy, how are you doing today?". A frog really doesn't have hair I'm told, which is about as fine as you can get.  He's got a smile on him like the wave on a slop jar -  For the uninformed, a slop jar is different from the above-mentioned slop bucket. Whereas the slop bucket was used to feed the pigs, the slop jar was what people in the country put under their bed on a cold winter night. This was because most country folks had outdoor toilets. To get up in the night and go to the outdoor toilet to relieve themselves took a lot of courage. So, country folks would pull out the slop jar and use it instead. When pulled out, there are concentric waves on top that looked like a big broad smile.    Grinning like a cat eating cockleburs (a mischievous or embarrassed grin) or smiling like a mule eatin briars thru a barbwire fence or smilin' like a goat in a briarpatch - These all have the same imagery. If you've ever seen a mule stick his head through the fence and eat briars, then you can relate to the expression on his face. I'm sure the goats expression would be similar. If you have ever walked around the countryside, chances are you have gotten cockleburs, we said cuckleburs, on your socks or pants leg. A cat eating one of these horny little burrs would definitely have the same look. Oh, he’s happy as a hounddog with two tails - Dogs wag their tails when they’re happy or excited, so imagine how happy a person who is like a dog with two tails would be! Well, she just tickled me pink - The tickling here isn't the light stroking of the skin - it's the figurative sense of the word that means 'to give pleasure or gratify'. The tickling pink concept is of enjoyment great enough to make the recipient glow with pleasure. A few sayings are obvious. If someone says they are happier than a dog in a meatpacking house, we would get it. Someone happier than a gopher in soft dirt would conclude it was easier to dig gopher holes in soft dirt. If a person was as happy as a tick on a hound dog, we would know the tick would be happy with that good meal. If I were as happy as a rooster in the hen house, it would be because on the farm they usually only keep one rooster and a bunch of hens for him to entertain. If I was as happy as a tornado in a trailer park, I could relate that tornadoes seem to hit trailer parks most of the time, so they must like them.    And if you are happy because you've been drinking all day and night, remember taking some of   'the hair of the dog that bit you'. (a clue to the source of the name of this supposed hangover cure) That derivation is from the mediaeval belief that, when someone was bitten by a rabid dog, a cure could be made by applying the same dog's hair to the infected wound. How many people managed to get bitten again when trying to approach the aforesaid dog to acquire the hair to achieve this completely useless remedy isn't known.

Good Gosh Ah-mighty

It was the summer of 1968, I was a student at Jacksonville State University working a summer job. A friend had told me about a job building swimming pools. The contractor was Murray Boys of Jacksonville Alabama. Murray Boys had expanded into building swimming pools. Their primary business was Murray Boys Septic Tank Service.

Building swimming pools was hard work. One of the Murray boys would operate the backhoe and dig the hole. The workers, like me, were involved in putting in gravel, pouring concrete, painting and any other job that required manual labor. I worked most of the summer, getting lean and mean with a great suntan. The only issue I had was: they assigned me the job of driving a large dump truck. I had driven a 1966 Mustang with a stick manual gear shifter, but I had never driven anything like the low and high range shifting required in a big truck.  It was a miracle that I didn't flatten a small car trying to shift or stop the truckload of gravel. However, the only mishap that I had was making a substantial dent in a U-Haul trailer at the local gas station. I did not realize I had backed into the trailer until the service station owner contacted my employer. Oh well, the swimming pool building gig came to a halt about that time. I was reassigned, you can probably guess, as a helper riding shotgun on the Murray Boys Septic Tank Service honey wagon (septic tank pumping truck).

Bud, the driver and supervisor, had a ton of stories about the septic tank business. One of the funniest was when he forgot to fully close the valve on the pipe to the tank that contained the sewage pumped from the septic tank. He left the job and went through the entire length of Anniston's Quintard Avenue dispensing a steady stream of human fertilizer.

As I helped dig up and remove concrete septic tank lids, I did not suspect that I would have a story of my own. This story was not humorous, but has stayed with me as a vivid image my entire life.

It was a hot summer day in North Alabama. We had gotten an early start. My clothing was soaked with sweat. The T-shirt and shorts were clinging to my body and the red mud of Alabama had turned all the material to a bright earthy red. We took a lunch break and grabbed a barbecue sandwich at the Goal Post Barbecue in Anniston. The Goal Post was not hard to find, even at night. It had an animated neon sign picturing a football player kicking a ball through the uprights.

The last job of the day was in Oxford. Actually, it was out in the countryside just past the the historical marker placed on the site of the 1961 attack on a bus load of civil rights freedom riders. The landlord had evicted the last tenant of the house, a middle-aged lady, because of neighbor complaints about people going in and out of the residence.  

While Bud sat in the shade drinking an RC Cola, the other helper and I started digging where Bud told us. It was deeper than most tanks, so it took a half-hour or more uncover the concrete top. When the top was exposed, Bud fetched a crowbar from the truck. He handed it down to us and we began to pry the lid off. As you can guess, the contents of a septic tank are not a pretty sight. But this one looked different. We called Bud over. "Good Gosh Ah-mighty", Bud said, "them is babies floating in there!" He called the Calhoun County Sheriff's Department.

After law enforcement interviewed the neighbors, the following story unraveled. The woman who had lived there was an untrained midwife. Since abortions were illegal and doctors refused to perform them, teenagers and other women who had unwanted pregnancies were forced to seek out alternative means to terminate the pregnancy. This often meant someone who gave them a dangerous concoction to drink or performed an unskilled operation. Based on what we saw, this woman must have performed hundreds of these abortions.

The mental picture of this experience is one that I hope to never see again. 

It seems the solution to a big social issue creates yet another big issue for a different group in our society.

 (excerpted from ProCon.org) The debate over whether or not abortion should be a legal option continues to divide Americans long after the US Supreme Court’s 7-2 decision on Roe v. Wade [49] declared the procedure a "fundamental right” on Jan. 22, 1973.

Proponents, identifying themselves as pro-choice, contend that abortion is a right that should not be limited by governmental or religious authority, and which outweighs any right claimed for an embryo or fetus. They argue that pregnant women will resort to unsafe illegal abortions if there is no legal option.

Opponents, identifying themselves as pro-life, assert that personhood begins at conception, and therefore abortion is the immoral killing of an innocent human being. They say abortion inflicts suffering on the unborn child, and that it is unfair to allow abortion when couples who cannot biologically conceive are waiting to adopt.

Variations exist in arguments on both sides of the debate. Some pro-choice proponents believe abortion should only be used as a last resort, while others advocate unrestricted access to abortion services under any circumstance. Pro-life positions range from opposing abortion under any circumstance to accepting it for situations of rape, incest, or when a woman's life is at risk.

The 2008 Democratic Party Platform [55] endorsed the pro-choice position, stating, "[We] strongly and unequivocally support Roe v. Wade and a woman’s right to choose a safe and legal abortion, regardless of ability to pay, and we oppose any and all efforts to weaken or undermine that right." However, approximately 35% of Democrats consider themselves pro-life.

[8]The 2008 Republican Party Platform [56] opposed abortion stating, "[A]t its core, abortion is a fundamental assault on the sanctity of innocent human life. Women deserve better than abortion. Every effort should be made to work with women considering abortion to enable and empower them to choose life." However, about 30% of Republicans are pro-choice. [7]

 

A May 2009 Gallup poll on abortion attitudes revealed that 51% of Americans consider themselves pro-life and 42% pro-choice. It was the first time since 1995, when the poll first started, that a majority of Americans identified as pro-life, and it was the first time since 2000 that more people were pro-life than pro-choice. [9]

In 1821, Connecticut became the first state to criminalize abortion. By 1965, all 50 states had outlawed abortion, with some exceptions varying by state. [42]

Federal action on abortion didn't occur until Roe v. Wade, which declared most state anti-abortion laws unconstitutional. The high court’s 7-2 decision established rules based on a pregnancy trimester framework, banning legislative interference in the first trimester of pregnancy, and allowing states to regulate abortion during the second trimester (weeks 13-28) and third trimester (weeks 29-40), but only when "related to maternal health."

The topic of abortion flared in the 2010 US Congress health care debate. Abortion opponents in both the House of Representatives and the Senate did not want recipients of insurance subsidies to use federal funding for abortions. Pro-choice proponents argued that abortion should not be treated differently than other health care services. The health care reform bill passed its final congressional vote (219-212) in the House of Representatives on Mar. 21, 2010 and on Mar. 23, 2010, President Obama signed the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act. [62] The following day, Mar. 24, 2010, the president signed an executive order [63] "to establish an adequate enforcement mechanism to ensure that Federal funds are not used for abortion services," re-affirming Hyde Amendment restrictions in the new health care legislation.

Church Ain't Your Granddaddy's Oldsmobile Anymore

Are mainline churches going the way of your granddaddy’s Oldsmobile?

When I was growing up in Vernon Alabama, the choice of churches to attend was limitless. That is, if you were a Baptist. My friend Delmont used to say that if you threw a rock in Vernon, you would hit a stray dog or a Baptist Church. We had the First Baptist Church of course. Then there were all the Southern Baptist churches that had split from the big church and there were country Baptist churches. My father was a member of the Freewill Baptist Church. Southern Baptist believed “once saved, always saved”. Freewill Baptists believed that you could “backslide” and go from a heavenly direction back to a more southerly direction. And, if you went to a Freewill Baptist church, you might even get your feet washed occasionally. Then there were the Missionary Baptists, Hardshell Baptists (Primitive Baptist), and I am sure there were some Softshell Baptists. If your family was a little better off financially, you could attend the Methodist Church. Then there was the Church of Christ or as they were called by the other churches, “Camel-Lites”. Or, at least that is the way they said it in Vernon. I only found out later it should be Campbell and not Camel because it was started as a frontier church by Alexander Campbell. You didn’t go to the Church of Christ if you liked instrumental music. They sang everything a cappella. And there was a smattering of Pentecostal and African-American churches. No Jewish Synagogue. No Catholic Church. No Presbyterian Church. No Episcopal Church. No Lutheran Church. No Mormon Church. In fact, the young ladies of the town were generally prohibited from dating young men from these Foreign religions.

According to what I have heard, mainline church attendance started going into a decline around 1968. The trend has continued for the last 45 years. Generation X and the Millennial’s and some Baby Boomers seem to have become disillusioned with the traditional church. These generations seem to be attracted to mega-churches with church orchestras and the preacher wearing tennis shoes, more charismatic denominations, but a substantial percentage are unchurched. Some of the mainline churches have started offering contemporary and nontraditional services in addition to their traditional service. And then there are those who take it a step further.

In October, we were visiting friends in Orange Beach. Our friends suggested we attend church services on Sunday at the Church on the Beach. This sounded appealing. It also turned out to be very interesting. The service was an outreach of the Methodist Church in Orange Beach. The service was held at the Flora Bama. “Wait”, we said, “isn’t that the hell raising bar with brassieres hanging from the ceiling where they toss mullet fish for fun.” Yes, it was. As we arrived, several hundred attendees were crossing Beach Road going toward the Flora Bama with a country-rock band playing upbeat Christian music in the background. We walked through the bar area with the hanging bras, through the frozen margarita area, out to the large covered deck in the back. There were rows of folding chairs with people in casual church clothes and many who looked like they had just gotten the back of a Harley. There was a lot of good singing, praise music, some traditional hymns, and some popular tunes. It was upbeat and spontaneous but the service and the preaching was not uncomfortable. It was somewhat disconcerting that a banner sponsored by Budweiser behind the preacher proclaimed that there would be a bikini contest the following weekend. At the end of the service, the young pastor invited everyone to go to the beach where they would be baptizing a young lady in the Gulf of Mexico. We didn’t go out, we went to lunch to get some fresh seafood. It was not your grandfather’s traditional church service, but we enjoyed it and gave the church credit for reaching out to nontraditional churchgoers and temporary beach wellers.

PS: A week later, we were on our way to services at First Christian Church of Birmingham. On public radio, there was a story about a church out West, of our own denomination, who had started Church at a Pub where churchgoers joyously sang hymns while enjoying a mug of beer.(Two beer limit)

MOMMA'S DRIVING ME CRAZY, IT'S A SHORT DRIVE

Two elderly Vernon ladies were going to church in a 1975 Buick LeSabre, neither one could see over the dashboard. Maude thought to herself, "I could have sworn we just went through a red light!" They came to the courthouse intersection. This time, the passenger was almost sure that the light had been red. She was getting nervous and decided to pay very close attention. At the Jack's intersection, sure enough, the light was definitely red and they went right through it. She turned to the other woman and said, "Mildred! Did you know we just ran through three red lights in a row? You could have killed us!" Mildred turned to her and said, "Oh My Gosh!! Am I driving?"

 

 When to take away Momma's or Daddy's car keys is a big question.

"I'm sure gettin' old!", said Grandma.

 

"I've got cataracts so I am half blind. My hearing aid batteries are dead and I can't afford to get more. I take about 100 different pills that make me sleepy, dizzy, and make me have fainting spells. Sometimes I get lost and don't know where I am. I can't feel my hands and feet anymore. My pacemaker is the only thing that keeps my heart beating. My diabetes flares up when I don't eat right."

 

"But thank the Lord, I've still got my Alabama drivers license."

 

This scene depicts some of the issues. In my mind, I somehow relate it to the fact that the state of Iowa issues pistol permits to blind folks.

But you know, many of us will struggle with this ourselves. An automobile represents independence. To lose our ability to drive is one of the first steps to the nursing home. It is understandable why some seniors resist and live in denial about their ability to drive. If you wake up one morning and you look like the picture on your drivers license, then you may be too old to drive.

In the old days, cars were not that important. There were horses, mules, and your own work shoes. The following story depicts my mother's struggle with learning to drive late in life.

 

My mother, Pauline, became a widow at age 47. She had lived her life under old world rules; in which driving was a male thing and being chauffeured around was a woman's privilege. But now, her economic situation demanded that she make extra income. She had gotten a job as a nurse's assistant at the nursing home. She sometimes hitched a ride with coworkers or walked when no ride was available.

This became too much, so she bought an old Pontiac through her brother-in-law Floyd. It sat in the front yard for a few days because she was afraid to drive it. Finally, she got up the nerve to get in and crank it up. She drove to the store a few hundred yards away, going 10 mph and putting on the brake every few yards. "She's going about as fast as the slow train to Arkansas," Della Bee said as she looked out the store window. The next day she drove to the Piney Grove church house.The next day she ventured to her Momma's house a mile up the gravel road.She would not venture on to the paved roads without help from someone else.

One weekend, Pauline had enough experience that she was venturing out further from home.She asked me if I would go with her to Fellowship Cemetery to put some flowers on Denmon's grave. Pauline held the steering wheel tight with two hands. She would get up to almost 35 mph, and then she would let off on the accelerator until she was going 25 miles an hour. We finally made it to Rex Frank' s homeplace.Shortly we were at the turn off to Fellowship church. Pauline held the steering wheel at the 10 o'clock and the 2 o'clock position.The road was slightly downhill, there was a sharp right hand turn, and there was a deep ravine on the other side covered in briars and bushes."Okay Momma, start putting on the brake." Pauline slowed and turned the wheel a fraction of a turn, she was still pointed toward the ravine.She turned the wheel another fraction of a turn, she was still on track to crash into the briar patch."Stop," I said, "You're going off the road." Pauline slammed on the brake throwing me toward the dashboard.We sat there breathing hard for a few seconds. Pauline backed up and slowly turned until she was on the Fellowship Road. I thought, "I'll always wear clean underwear when I'm riding with her. Landing up in the emergency room is a real good possibility."

A few weeks later, Pauline went to take her driving license test. She passed the written test but then they checked her eyes. The examiner told her that she could not take her driving test until she got new glasses. She went home disappointed. She told people that she was going to Winfield to get new glasses, however, she never did.

She continued driving to work and running errands until she finally voluntarily gave up in her seventies, but she never did manage to get her driver's license. She was confident that the police and sheriff would not give her a ticket. She never had an accident because she always kept one eye on the car in front, one eye on people crossing the road, and one eye on cars behind her.

Where are you with this issue?

 

Backurds Walkin

Are you afraid of snakes? Is your motto "A good snake is a dead snake"? It seems that people have had a fear of snakes from our caveman days or before. In your experience, have you noticed

that even babies have a natural fear of reptiles? In the old days, there were big snakes that would squeeze people to death, much like the boa constrictor does today. As time passed, people adapted and their eyesight became keener and able to detect nearby objects. This was handy in allowing them to see a snake and smack its head in with a shovel. On the other hand, the snake developed another way to kill people and animals. It is called venom and you do not want any.I remember my Mother was superstitious about snakes. She would say if you dream about snakes, it was bad luck and someone in the neighborhood would die. If a pregnant woman saw a snake, then something would be wrong with the baby.

 

President Obama dreamed about a snake the night before The Affordable Care Act became available online. There has been speculation about what he would do when he left office. The odds are, he will not be a website designer. It has been suggested that the National Security Agency should be placed in charge of the website. They have been tapping your phone for years and they already know everything about you. You just have to enter your name. Someone said that only about 12% of Americans are pleased with the rollout of the Affordable Care Act. But I do believe, that 100% of Republicans are pleased with the rollout. However, regardless of how you feel about the healthcare act. It is now the elephant in the room. There is no way to get it out through the door so we need to find a way to put that elephant to work.

 

A recent study has shown that walking backward can enhance your ability to solve problems. According to WEB M.D. magazine, walking backward might boost your ability to deal with a tough situation. You might say, "How does that work"? Well, here's the explanation. When we walk backward, our body senses that we are retreating and using an entire set of different muscles. Then that old "fight or flight" instinct kicks in. Our whole body becomes more alert and we are able to focus better. Maybe that is where the term, "step back and take a look at it" , came from. Now I was thinking, what if all the lawmakers in Washington and Montgomery would file out of the statehouses and walk backward for about 10 blocks? That may not solve all the problems, but at least they would need to turn off their iPhones and put down their newspapers for an hour.