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The Biscuit

    Hey, everyone. What a relief that Christmas is over, huh? I don't think it was meant to be the way it is.
    I started thinking about the so-called good 'ole days today. My wife says that at her house, they would take a left-over biscuit and shine their shoes before church. I one-upped her by saying, "Oh, yeah? I ate the biscuit when everyone got finished with it. And I was grateful for it." Truly, though, you can and people did, shine their shoes with a biscuit. Hey, they were greasy little buggers.
    Speaking of greasy little buggers, I remember when everyone had wells and were very conservative about water, particularly those of us who had to crank a handle up and down to get a bucket of water. There was no daily bath. (No showers in those days, mate.) About twice a week we took a bath and here's the recipe: The oldest kid took a bath first, then the next oldest etc. You can see why younger siblings hated the older. Bathing in their used water did not engender a good attitude. To all you younger people, living on Park Avenue, I know this sounds incredible. But hey, Appalachia was a tough place to grow up. I can remember when there was no tub, just a washtub made of metal. Mom would heat water on the stove for us in the winter. This was nice for the oldest kid, anyway.
     I have a prediction. The next time you guys eat a biscuit, you'll think of this and smile. The next time you take a shower, you'll be grateful for it. Ha, Ha.
     I'm CE Wills.
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