Straight From the Heart} *A Great Cook* 10/28/99
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It is with great pleasure that I introduce another new author to this list!
Today's story is by Joseph Walker, a refreshing writer who takes everyday
occurrences and passes along the life lessons he learns with wit and inspiration!
Welcome aboard Joseph, and thank you for sharing with us!
(As always I encourage you to write to Joseph if his story touches you in some
way. One of the things I am most proud of with this list, is the outpouring of
encouragement and feedback that you give me and all those who contribute their
writing or prayer requests. Feedback is the lifeblood that keeps a writer's
juices flowing! So please take a moment, especially if you have never done so
before, and let each author know what you thought about their story!)
Thank you!
Michael
P.S. Yesterday's mail entitled, "Your Choice," was written by Max Lucado.
My thanks to Sandra for letting me know that. If you ever know the author of
any email listed as "author unknown," please let me know.
On to today's mail!
A GREAT COOK
Mom was a good cook.
No, I take that back. She was a great cook.
She could take a little hamburger, a few potatoes and some canned
tomatoes and whip up a feast worthy of the International Olympic Committee.
And the things she could do with a chicken... well, it makes my mouth
water to think about it. Her homemade chili sauce was second to none. Her
bottled peaches were better than candy. And I once offered to make my
sister Kathy's bed for a week if she would give me the last slice of toast
made with Mom's homemade bread and slathered in Mom's homemade apricot jam.
Kathy wouldn't go for the deal. She preferred to eat the toast --
slowly -- in front of me, watching me suffer with each exquisite bite. If
memory serves, that was the same day I tried to kill Kathy with a crutch.
If I had succeeded, all we would have had to do was give the judge a taste
of Mom's homemade bread and jam, and he would have ruled it justifiable
homicide.
No doubt about it, Mom was a great cook -- 99.9 percent of the time.
But put a beef steak in her skillet, and she turned into the anti-cook.
She could take the finest cut of prime T-bone and turn it into shoe
leather. She tried awfully hard, bless her. The night before I was
married she thought she was treating me to an extra-thick cut of top
sirloin. Instead, she treated me -- and, through me, my bride -- to a case
of gastric distress that lasted throughout most of our honeymoon.
Several months later my big brother Bud took me out for lunch and
ordered steaks for both of us. I wasn't thrilled, but since he was paying
I figured I could choke down a few bites. When the waitress served our
steaks, I was surprised at how good they smelled. Mom's steaks never
smelled like that. The first bite was a char-broiled epiphany, a
revelation of sizzling flavor. Suddenly I understood why others spoke of
steak fondly. I devoured my steak greedily, and stole a bite of Bud's when
he wasn't looking. I was a born-again beef-eater, and that steak was my
first communion.
"You know," I said to Bud, patting my stomach contentedly. "I used to
think Mom was a good cook. But it's hard to believe her steaks come from
the same animal as these steaks."
"Mom's a great cook," Bud said. "But think about it. She grew up
during the Great Depression. That's when she learned to cook. How often
do you think they had steak?"
"Probably not very often," I guessed.
"Probably never," Bud said. "And when I was little and Dad was in the
service, I don't remember ever having steak. It's only been recently that
they could afford to buy steak. So it isn't that she isn't a good cook.
It's just that she hasn't had a lot of experience cooking steak."
So Mom had a weakness in the kitchen. It was difficult to imagine --
especially after we enjoyed one of Mom's incredible fried chicken dinners
the next Sunday. So she couldn't cook steak very well. So what? Who said
Mom had to be perfect -- in the kitchen or elsewhere?
I've been thinking about that lately as my older children have become
more aware of some of their father's imperfections. The fact is, I'm still
learning and growing as a person, not just as a parent. I've got a long
way to go before I'm as good at anything as my Mom was at cooking. I'm
trying, but I fall humanly short of perfection more often than not.
Still, I think I have a lot to offer my kids. Even though I haven't
reached the end of the trail, I'm a heck of a lot further down the road
than they are. At the very least, they can learn from my mistakes and
avoid some of the bad turns I've taken. If they can do that, I can still
be of value to them -- weaknesses and all.
And if they can't... well, let 'em eat steak!
-- Joseph Walker Valuesguy@netscape.net
(Email Joseph and let him know how much you liked his story!!)
Joseph Walker is a Heartwarmers Gem (Heartwarmers.com) and a nationally
syndicated newspaper columnist. You'll love his new book, "How Can you
Mend a Broken Spleen!"
If you would like to find out more about it, or possibly order it, click
on the address below:
Amazon address: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1573453005/heart
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I received this from a reader after Susan's story and wanted to pass it along to everyone.
My Uncle John was deaf, my Daddy's brother. He and Daddy were very close and
when they signed to each other, I doubt that anyone else could keep up or knew
what they were saying because they had been doing this since childhood and I'm
sure had some of their own signs and shortcuts. I noticed their facial
expressions also as their hands flew as they talked. When I was a little
girl my daddy taught me how to sign to him (I was about 8 years old) and I
remember the first time I made the attempt to sign to him, big tears came
in his eyes and he signed to my Dad, "You taught her!"
I remember another time that Daddy and I were traveling and we stopped in
a small town for lunch. Two men were sitting in a booth where we could see
them. They were pushing paper back and forth and writing. My Dad got up
and went over and signed to the man to ask if he was deaf. I can't even
describe to you how this man's face just lit up! He was so excited that
someone could talk to him. He had come to live in this small town with a
sister and she was the only other person in town who knew how to sign. He
and my Dad talked for a long time and I don't know who was more blessed....
the man...or my Dad and I.
I think that being deaf caused Uncle John to be very sensitive in other ways.
His other senses seemed strengthened to make up for the deafness. He could
tell things by looking into your eyes. Since he was deaf, if it was something
he didn't want to hear, he simply turned his face away. This was his method
when you wanted him to do something he didn't want to do or when he simply
didn't want to hear what you had to say because the news was not good. When
Daddy was only 58, he was hospitalized with terminal cancer. When he died,
Uncle John happened to be in another hospital at the same time. When my aunt
went to tell him the sad news, Uncle John looked away and refused to look at
her....he already knew when he saw her face, and this time, he just didn't want
her to see him cry.
Pam
Pamyblaine@aol.com
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What's the world coming to! Michael has his own weekly column on being a daddy!!
This week: Michael takes Caleb to his first swimming lesson!
Click on this link to go to ChildFun.com!
Daddy's View | Michael's Weekly Column
or type in the following in your browser:
http://www.childfun.com/dads/michael.shtml
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Thought For The Day:
"You cannot live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will
never be able to repay you."
(John Wooden)
Verse for the Day:
"And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices,
God is pleased."
Hebrews 13:16
Kid's Thought for the day:
"You are tall enough when you can reach the light switch."
Parent's Thought For The Day
"From good parents come a good son."
(Aristotle)
Coach's Thought For The Day
"As long as young athletes can learn from men and women coaching...from their homes,
from their churches and classrooms, a code of ethics by which to live...to respect
the rights of others and learn to play the game of life as well as the game of
athletics according to the rules of the society in which they live...Those
children have won the greatest championship any person could ever win."
(Jesse Owens- 1936 Gold medalist in track)
Deep Thought For The Day:
If quitters never win, and winners never quit, what fool came up with, "Quit
while you're ahead?"
(Steven Wright)
_
/_/\/\ MICHAEL T. POWERS
\_\ / THUNDER27@aol.com http://members.aol.com/Thunder27/index.html
/_/ \ "For I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but
\_\/\ \ Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body I live for the Son
\_\/ of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20