I spent today making Cream of Carrot Soup for the High Tea. I also whipped up a big jug of Lemon Curd for the scones. Well, for the Cheese Scones. I am making Clotted Cream for the Apple ones. Since I was cooking all day, it came as a complete surprise to me when I set down to watch the news and wound up thinking about Nickerson, Kansas and remembering my father telling my mother about a cross burning incident that had happened the night before. I am pretty sure he had not been involved in the burning, but he sure seemed to know all about it and the names of the men who were involved.
Now you must understand that this conversation was not held at the dining room table, but rather in whispered tones on the front porch. Our bedroom window was on the front of the house so since I was awake it was hard not to hear. And the fact that it is now 70 years later kind of dims the memory. All the people who were alive at that time are long since gone on to their reward, whatever it might be. To the best of my knowledge, I never knew anyone who lived in Nickerson, Kansas at the time I was there to be anything but white. Oh, wait. There was one family who lived in the boxcar down by the tracks that was maybe another race. I never was sure what race they were. Seems like they might have been Indian, but I wasn't sure of what race that was.
Our family was mostly German due to the Haas family on my mothers side. Dad was mostly Irish or English or something like that. I think maybe Great Britain came in to play some where in his genes. Now if you think for one minute that I know where I am headed with this you are sadly mistaken. Last thing I remember was I was working on some lemon bars and the next thing I remember is I was up here clicking away at the keys. I think it all has something to do with the latest school shooting. How sad that is that kids have to go through training to learn what to do if their school is attacked by a gunman. Seems in the back of my mind I hear a song playing about the days of sand and shovels. A day of innocence. I wonder what our world has come to that this is normal and is accepted as normal. And then I think to that conversation on the front porch and it makes me sad, that I can remember burning crosses from my childhood much as the kids today will remember the boy with purple and pink hair that shot children in a school. What is our world coming to that violence is a way of life and that it is accepted as normal?
Even sadder, the boys doing the shooting are someone's son. Some mother held the new baby in her arms and never dreamed that someday he would grow up to kill anyone. Probably the worst she could imagine was that he/she would need braces. Or maybe they would steal a candy bar just for kicks. The world has changed. Back when I was a kid, we saluted the flag. We said "one nation under God." I think we even had a little prayer before school. I vaguely remember one of my school mates being killed in a car wreck. I do not remember his name, only that he had gone with his older brother to a National Guard meeting. That was about the saddest thing that happened in our school. Mostly life was mundane. Mother went to work. Dad went to the pool hall. Josephine eloped and Jake joined the Army. And the gypsys were camped outside of town, just waiting to steal a kid, but the never did.
Now you must understand that this conversation was not held at the dining room table, but rather in whispered tones on the front porch. Our bedroom window was on the front of the house so since I was awake it was hard not to hear. And the fact that it is now 70 years later kind of dims the memory. All the people who were alive at that time are long since gone on to their reward, whatever it might be. To the best of my knowledge, I never knew anyone who lived in Nickerson, Kansas at the time I was there to be anything but white. Oh, wait. There was one family who lived in the boxcar down by the tracks that was maybe another race. I never was sure what race they were. Seems like they might have been Indian, but I wasn't sure of what race that was.
Our family was mostly German due to the Haas family on my mothers side. Dad was mostly Irish or English or something like that. I think maybe Great Britain came in to play some where in his genes. Now if you think for one minute that I know where I am headed with this you are sadly mistaken. Last thing I remember was I was working on some lemon bars and the next thing I remember is I was up here clicking away at the keys. I think it all has something to do with the latest school shooting. How sad that is that kids have to go through training to learn what to do if their school is attacked by a gunman. Seems in the back of my mind I hear a song playing about the days of sand and shovels. A day of innocence. I wonder what our world has come to that this is normal and is accepted as normal. And then I think to that conversation on the front porch and it makes me sad, that I can remember burning crosses from my childhood much as the kids today will remember the boy with purple and pink hair that shot children in a school. What is our world coming to that violence is a way of life and that it is accepted as normal?
Even sadder, the boys doing the shooting are someone's son. Some mother held the new baby in her arms and never dreamed that someday he would grow up to kill anyone. Probably the worst she could imagine was that he/she would need braces. Or maybe they would steal a candy bar just for kicks. The world has changed. Back when I was a kid, we saluted the flag. We said "one nation under God." I think we even had a little prayer before school. I vaguely remember one of my school mates being killed in a car wreck. I do not remember his name, only that he had gone with his older brother to a National Guard meeting. That was about the saddest thing that happened in our school. Mostly life was mundane. Mother went to work. Dad went to the pool hall. Josephine eloped and Jake joined the Army. And the gypsys were camped outside of town, just waiting to steal a kid, but the never did.
