Mincey’s Musings
Year One, Week Fourteen

The weekend my mother passed away my good friend and deacon of the First Baptist Church of Maynardville, Ronnie Robbins, stopped by to see me. Tearfully, he told me how sorry he was to hear of my mother’s passing. He said, “You’ve lost the best friend you’ll ever have.” Ronnie would have known, for his mother had passed away some time earlier.

My mother didn’t always approve of everything I did, and she never failed to let me know when she didn’t. Even so, I knew she loved me until her dying day.

Did you remember to wear something green on St. Patrick’s Day? If not, quite likely you were pinched. Among the mountain youth of the 1970s, St. Patrick’s Day was mostly an excuse for pinching those who forgot to wear green. Teachers would make scissors and green construction paper available so that pupils, who forgot to don the green, could cut out shamrocks and attach them to their clothing.

"Fascinator." My dictionary lists as its second choice: a woman's head scarf. I couldn't find a synonym for “fascinators” in my Synonym Finder. However, I did find several for “fascinate” that are appropriate. They include: attract, charm, bewitch and captivate. “Where is this going?” you ask. If you were around during World War II and you were of the female persuasion you would know. We all wore “fascinators.” We thought they looked fascinating. You might call them head scarves or babushkas.

By no accident, Southern Appalachia is known for its rich musical heritage. When the Scotch-Irish left Ulster for America there was little room for worldly possessions aboard wooden sailing vessels. When they crossed the mountains into what is now East Tennessee they were limited as to what they could carry in their hands, on their backs, or on the backs of a beast of burden as there were no wagon roads. However, they were able to carry within their hearts and minds songs that told of life in the old country and out at sea as they were a seafaring people.

My mother couldn't make a cake for sour apples, but she made a killer sugar cookie. She never used a recipe, just dumped everything in her dishpan, stirred, rolled it out, cut and baked. I don't have her recipe, but I found one close to it when I was first married in the late forties.

"Even God Must Get the Blues"
Song by: Jo Dee Messina (1998)
Pick up any morning paper
Turn on the 6 o'clock news
The devil's been so busy lately
That even God must get the blues

Good morning my lovely readers!

I know all of you think I am slower than Christmas, and you’re right. I promised you book three in the Smoky Mountain Mist series before the end of 2017. Obviously, I didn’t make that deadline. Sometimes life calls and I chose to do something else instead of writing. For a while. A long while.

I am happy to announce that Dawn’s Gray Light went live on Amazon in Kindle form today. The paperback should be available by the end of next week.

On March 10, Sharps Chapel Book Station finally opened its doors in the restored Historic Oak Grove School, and book station attendant Sherry Medina is loving the new location.

When planning a visit to the home of Union County native Dollie Beeler Merritt, a smart person would arrive at mealtime.

Well known in the area for her chicken and dumplings, along with many other country foods, Merritt says her mother started her in the kitchen at only five years old.

“I would beg her to let me do dishes,” said Merritt. “She’d pull a stool over to the sink and I would climb up and help.”

Most descendants of East Tennessee’s original settler population are also descendants of Union Veterans of the American Civil War. Closer to home, many of us are descendants of original members of Company B of the First Tennessee Infantry, the first federal unit that was formed in Tennessee for service in the American Civil War.