Opinions

I’m about the only person I know without a tattoo. Well, this is not true. My parents don’t have tattoos, and I don’t think most of their friends do -- although I’ve not done a close inspection. That would be hard to do, and probably not very polite. But among people my age and younger, I’ve become something of an oddity, yet I can honestly say I’ve never considered getting one. This isn’t because I have anything against tattoos. I’ve seen some that were beautiful. But I’ve also seen some that read “Forever Young” or “No Regrets,” and I wonder if this will always be the case.

“You could live on a dollar and 27 cents a day,” the husband once said to me, shaking his head. I was packing a small cooler for a trip to Alabama. I knew I’d arrive at dark and would not feel like grocery shopping for orange juice and milk, so I poured small amounts into plastic containers and packed them among ice. I added a baggie of Raisin Bran cereal and a bunch of green grapes.

As my cousin read aloud our Grandmother’s Brunswick Stew recipe, I enjoyed all the imagery it evoked, not to mention the aromatic recollection of that stew which was prepared with chicken, pork, tomatoes and corn in a turnof- the-century kitchen that always smelled heavenly. Interestingly enough, the recipe begins with, “Wring the chicken’s neck…” That’s when I usually walk away from the memory and wonder if somebody—anybody—could make me some Brunswick Stew, or Camp Stew, as we usually called it…without the manual labor my grandmother invested.

The thrill associated with rollercoasters is enough to make normal people question their choice of food or beverage, not to mention their seat selection in boarding the train of cars.