CORN-ON-THE COB

CORN-ON-THE COB

What would the summer be like without corn-on-the cob?  It is one of my favorite foods.  Everyone loves corn-on-the cob, yet it seems that no two people prepare it, butter it, or eat it the same.

I like to throw my corn in a boiling pot, add a handful of sugar and cook it for ten minutes.  I am told that three minutes is all it should take.  Mrs. C. demands I add several of the inner corn husks to the pot; I don’t know why, but I guess it can’t hurt.  Some people swear on soaking the corn in the husk and throwing it on the bar-b-q.

I have known purists who wait until the corn is just picked and then race home to throw it into already boiling sugar water as soon as the husks are off.  The fresher the better…I guess.

The corn is important.  Yellow is a favorite for many.  White is said to be the sweetest.  I personally like to compromise with the ears of mixed yellow and white.  Pretty much I think that it is all good.

Some people will eat the corn by holding the hot cob.  Personally I need those corn stickers. 

I used to butter my corn with a knife, very sloppy.  Mrs. C. has a tool which holds a chunk of butter in a corn-shaped curve.  I am now a butter tool butterer.  If no one is looking, I might use the roll-the-corn-in-the-butter-stick technique.

Eating the corn is more interesting than you might think.  Some people eat in a curricular manner from one end working to the other.  Some people eat it like a typewriter, from left to right…ding…and back again.  Other people eat from end to end and then keep eating back without the typewriter return.  Personally I like to do a circular run over both ends of the cob, and then finish left to right typewriter style. 

Unless you have problems with your teeth, cutting the corn off the cob should not be allowed.

I am guessing a psychologist could tell quite a lot about a person by how they prepare, butter and eat their corn-on-the cob.        

THE GREAT FIELD HOCKEY WHIFF

THE GREAT FIELD HOCKEY WHIFF

One of the reasons I like to write is it is a way to pass along family stories which might otherwise be lost.  It is a way for future Hagys to know me and the family which preceded them.  I may not always have the stories correct, but they are close enough and hopefully they will pass a true sense of who we are to generations that I will never meet.

My mom, your “Gammie” or your “Great (fill in great as needed) Gammie” was quite the athlete.  I know this because she told me so.

I know she was a fast runner.  When my brother Jim was 12 he bragged at how fast he was, “The fastest in my class.”  Mom claimed she was also a fast runner, probably still faster than Jim. 

Neither my brothers nor I had ever even seen mom run.  No one thinks of their mom as a “fast runner” she’s a mom…what the heck?  The challenge was on.

Mom versus Jim in a fifty yard dash…it was not even close.  Mom won by several yards…AND JIM WAS FAST!!

We all had a new respect for my mom.

In high school mom played basketball, swam, and played field hockey.  If the school had a team, mom was on it.  Of course her graduating class was 34 strong…and it was co-ed.

Mom was a strong swimmer; it was the exercise which kept her condition of scoliosis from making her a cripple as they had no other treatment at the time. 

She often talked about basketball and how she would have been good except she was only five-foot-two and girls were not allowed to dribble, “You got one bounce and one step.”

Her most famous story was her big moment in Field Hockey.

Mom’s greatest sports memory was of failure.  She really only told one sports story.  I’m sure she must have won some races in swimming, and she must have scored some goals in field hockey, but what did she remember, what was the only sports story she ever told?

It was her field hockey whiff.

To fully appreciate this story you have to picture a 5’ 2” 105lb. 80 year-old lady telling it with wildly gesticulating arms and legs. 

In a crucial game which was tied, Mom took the ball and dribbled from her goal to the opposing team’s goal.  She drove through player after player (picture a 5’ 2”105lb. 80 year-old lady demonstrating) first one player then another.  In and out she flew towards the goal.  She was fast.  She was agile (picture 5’2”  105lb. 80 year-old lady almost knocking down several lamps in her demonstration).  She was unstoppable.  She could hear her mates cheering; the crowd of fifteen was going wild.  She approached the goal, deftly dodged the rushing goalie with an incredible spin move, wound up and fired at the now unguarded goal and……whiffed.

Mom did not remember who won the game.  She only remembered that she whiffed.  “I did everything right.  It was the most beautiful run ever.  I dodged everyone and at the last second I whiffed.”  And then she laughed.  Mom always thought the story was funny.  In her mind, if she hadn’t whiffed the story wouldn’t have been worth telling.

You do not always learn from success.  Years later few will remember a single goal scored.  A whiff will teach you humility.  A whiff will force you to have a sense of humor.  A whiff will make a good story.

It may seem strange, but mom was always proud of her “Great Field Hockey Whiff.”    

THE GOOD TOWELS

THE GOOD TOWELS

The guest bathroom in the house where Mrs. Cranky grew up was always adorned with lovely linen towels.  It was apparently well known that these towels were not to be used.  When my wife’s mom was several days from leaving this world, the result of a losing battle with Pancreatic Cancer, my brother-in-law asked with a straight face, “Does this mean we can use the GOOD TOWELS?”

I was not yet a member of the family, but this comment, cold and callous as it sounds, made everyone laugh.  It was funny because of the silliness of having the GOOD TOWELS that their mom so carefully protected.  It made everyone think fondly of this woman who had only a little more time on Earth.  Somehow a person’s passion even for silly things makes them more endearing.

I only recently heard this story.  It made me think of all the nice things that people have and cherish and yet never use. 

Some people even sew THE GOOD TOWELS so they stay on the rack nice and even.  Many people have bowls of decorator soap in the bathroom.  You don’t have to tell guests not to use decorator soap; everyone knows not to touch it.  My sister-in-law says she got rid of her decorator soap…it was just one more thing to dust.

People used to cover their living room furniture in plastic so it would stay clean.  Covering a $2000 couch with plastic so it won’t get dirty is like sleeping on the floor so you won’t have to make the bed.  I don’t think people cover their furniture with plastic anymore; instead they put furniture in a “Living Room” that no one is allowed to use.

Dining rooms today are a lot like THE GOOD TOWELS.  Many houses today have eat-in kitchens.  The dining room is used for Thanksgiving Dinner and the rest of the year it is purely for show.

I think everyone has their version of THE GOOD TOWELS. 

Very wealthy people have the really good bottle of wine.  Eighty years old and stored in just the right conditions, but never to be opened.  Many families have the good china, stored in a special cabinet just waiting for the President to come to dinner.  We have Mrs. Cranky’s Waterford glasses.  They are beautiful to look at, but no one wants to use them.  “I’m afraid I’d break it!”

Oh, and I found out that after Mrs. Cranky’s mom passed away she inherited THE GOOD TOWELS. 

They are stored away in a plastic bin.

They have never been used. 

I am told they are beautiful.