Glenda Diana -- A Taste of History

Except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, the reproduction of this work in whole or in part in any form by electronic or mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including printing, faxing, E-mail, or copying electronically, is forbidden without the permission of the author, Glenda Diana.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues in this work are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Tyler Richards scooted back on the narrow bench that fitted the small window alcove off from the living room. He was dearly hoping that luck would stay on his side and no one would discover him and his secluded spot.

It seemed as if it had taken forever to weave his way through the maze of old people that filled his home. As far as he knew, this was the only place in the house that wasn't inhabited by anyone else. Even his own bedroom had people in it. For godsakes, they were using his private domain as a dressing room for the ladies. By the time this day came to a close, his room and all his possessions would reek of old ladies' perfume. No 15-year-old boy should have to put up with such a disgusting thing.

Carefully he balanced his plate of food on his lap, as his gaze moved over the crowd milling around beyond his narrow hideout. He smiled when he saw his cousin, Christopher, get cornered by two blue-haired old women. What made it so humorous was the fact that he and Chris had talked about this very thing not more than an hour ago.

"It looks as if we're being invaded by all the old people of the world," Chris had commented, as they stood on the front porch watching as car after car pulled in to Tyler's front yard.

He watched as one by one the old people moved toward the house. It wasn't that he had anything against old people...he just found them to be boring and they always wanted to talk about things that he had no interest in. Like what happened sixty years ago. Tyler didn't care what happened and he certainly didn't want to hear their stories.

When his parents had told him and his sister, Valerie, that a family reunion was going to be held at their house, he had foolishly thought they had meant family. As in his mother's parents, Grandma and Grandpa Stevens and his mother's two sisters, Ann and her husband, Dan, and their son, Lawrence; Becky and her husband, Edward, and their children, Christopher and Christine. Then on his father's side of the family there would be Grandma and Poppa Richards, with his dad's brother, Hugh and his wife, Irma, and their son, Dale. And maybe...his Great-Grandparents Lewis.

That gave him a slight pause. Great Granny, as she liked to be called, and his Great-Papaw Jack. Though he got along fairly well with his grandparents on both sides, he had difficulties when it came to his great-grandparents. It wasn't that he didn't love them...it was just when Granny hugged him she felt so fragile in his arms and Papaw Jack felt the same.

When he tried to explain his feelings to his mother and father, they only shook their heads at him and smiled. To this day he still wondered what that smile had meant. They did, however, come up with an excuse. They told him that though Granny and Papaw felt fragile in body, they were strong in spirit and that perhaps they felt fragile to him because he was full of freshness and that his body was strong with youth. Again, the only thing they had accomplished with their explanation was confusion.

"And they're all just wanting to get their fingers on your cheeks," Tyler had said, reaching over and giving Chris' cheek a playful pinch.

Both boys had turned to find Valerie standing behind them. Tyler had wanted to groan in frustration when he noticed Valerie's boyfriend, Bob, standing at her side.

It had taken a great deal of teeth grinding for Tyler to keep his mouth closed. It was not a hard task to figure out the meaning behind Bob's sneering remark. As sure as the sun would rise in the morning he knew exactly how he was going to be spending most of tomorrow. His father would have him out there in the yard raking down the tire marks that now rippled through their lawn.

He could not count the times that his father had gotten upset when Bob would leave similar marks in the yard. Of course, it was beyond Tyler's understanding how Bob just happened to miss the driveway when it was wide enough for two semi-trucks to pull into. It was obvious to him that Bob did it on purpose. Not only to anger their father, but so that he could sit back and watch the kid brother trudge across the lawn with rake in hand.

Bob's little accidents were an easy thing to fix, at least to Tyler's way of thinking. His father needed to give good old Bob the rake and make him correct his little mistakes. All it would take is one time and Bob would not do it again, of this Tyler was certain.

It was purely aggravating to be the youngest in his family. He had come to that conclusion about a year ago. The older he got the more people, especially his sister, liked to remind him what his station in the family was. Did they actually think he could forget? At times he wished he could.

For some morbid reason, he had thought that the older he became the more life would be to his liking. No more scolding from his mother, no more having his dad talk to him as if he were two years old and no more of Val's teasing. Well, he was learning quickly just how wrong he had been in his assumption of life.

Tyler brought his wandering thoughts back just in time to wince when Aunt Something-or-other pinched Christopher's cheek. Absently, he reached up and rubbed his own cheek. Now, there was something else that he was tired of...smiling and saying "hello" as he dodged bony fingers that were determined to damage his face. Already his cheeks felt like they were permanently bruised from the fingers that he had not been quick enough to escape.

He gave a heavy sigh as another thought occurred to him...today was going to last an eternity! It seemed as if these people had been there forever already, when in fact they had only arrived about two hours ago.

If his luck continued on the path that it had been on most of the day it was only a matter of time before someone invaded his secluded hideout. Several of their guests had sent smiles in his direction. He had to fight down the temptation to reach up and pull the heavy drape that graced the window alcove closed. But he did not for the simple reason that he thought it might bring more unwanted attention to him.

Uncle What's-his-name ruffled Dale's hair and Tyler smiled. Dale was not the friendliest of cousins. He was one year older than Tyler was, but he wanted to act as if he was so mature. If he saw Christopher and Tyler shooting a few baskets, he would shake his head as if they were imbeciles, then he would lift his nose in the air and walk away. To Tyler's way of thinking it was about time this particular cousin got his due.

He wondered what the man was saying to Dale. Every time one of them had cornered him it was to tell him how much he looked like his father. "You look just like Todd when he was young. You have the same dark brown eyes and his black as night hair." And just what did black as night mean? Well, he could probably think on that one all day and he still would not understand it, so why bother.

At the sudden rise of voices, Tyler looked over to the front door just in time to see his great-grandparents enter. For a moment he sat there staring at them, then he pulled his gaze away. He knew without a doubt before the day was over he would have to talk to them and just the thought made his stomach clench. They were both so old that he could never find anything of interest to talk with them about. Even as a little kid he had been afraid of them. It wasn't that they were scary...just the opposite was true of them.

It was as if he could smell death whenever he was near their delicate frames. He knew it was just his imagination, but still it was there. In returning Granny's hugs, he feared that might hurt her. And he felt the same when Papaw Jack embraced him. Their bones were like fine porcelain. Granny used a walker to help support her while Papaw used a thick, wooden cane.

Tyler lowered his gaze to stare at his filled plate. For as long as he could remember they had always looked the same: small, silver hair and ancient. They both had to be in their late eighties or early nineties. And he had always kept his distance from them. While his Grandpa Stevens and Grandpa Richards use to go out and play catch with him, and still did from time to time, Papaw Jack had just sat on the porch and watched.

About six months ago Papaw Jack had had a heart attack. He could remember how upset the rest of the family had become. No one could get Granny to leave the hospital or Papaw's side. She had stated in a soft, yet forceful, voice that she would not leave him alone...and she did not. Tyler could recall his father saying it was Granny's love for Papaw that had saved him from death's door.

The deep penetrating voice brought Tyler from his thoughts. There in the narrow entrance to the alcove stood a stoop shoulder figure he knew well...Papaw Jack. For just a second he thought about telling him that he didn't want any company, but he knew that would be rude and hurtful to his Great-Grandpa and he would never intentionally hurt him.

Tyler noticed that beneath Papaw Jacks dark suit-jacket that his shoulders quivered slightly. He wasn't sure if it was age or humor that was causing it.

Reluctantly, Tyler scooted over. He reached out just in time to grab the plate his Great-Grandpa handed him. As soon as he was seated he took his plate and tried to balance it on his knees as Tyler was doing.

Tyler hid his smile as he stood up and placed his own plate on the cushioned bench. It took him just a minute to find a table that he could move into the alcove for Papaw Jack's plate. As he picked up his own plate and started to take his seat, he heard his Great-Grandpa grumble out a husky, "thank you."

On closer inspection, he noticed that Papaw Jack's white hair was ruffled making him wonder if the old ladies had caught his Great-Grandpa unaware and dished out the same treatment to him as they had Tyler earlier. That almost made him smile. Like always, it was Papaw Jack's eyes that caught his attention. They seemed all wrong...too bright and youthful for a man his age.

"I guess I might as well tell you that I can read just about every thought that runs through that young mind of yours. They're written all over your face. You've never cared much for Granny or me. But, I see it this way...tough luck."

"I never knew just why, but I gave it some thought when I was laid up in the hospital. As far as I know we've never done anything to you in order to make you dislike us."

"I never said I disliked you," Tyler muttered, feeling his face turn hot with embarrassment. He never considered that his great-grandparents would notice his hesitation toward them.

"Ahh, I'm right, aren't I?" Papaw Jack asked, with a laugh. "Old age isn't contagious, son. It took Granny and me a long time to get to this point in life." When Tyler glanced up, Papaw Jack smiled. "Have you been wondering who all these people are?"

Papaw Jack's green eyes narrowed for just a moment and then he gave a soft laugh. "See, now you're being honest. You don't give a hoot who any of these people are. Can't say that I blame you. At your age I was the same way. But don't be taking that as a compliment, because it isn't. I was a hell-raiser and the greatest hardship that ever came my parent's way."

Tyler wanted to shake his head. The old man was full of it and it appeared that the longer he spoke the fuller he got. That was an expression his dad like to use when talking about him...so perhaps he and Papaw Jack were more alike than the old man knew

"As a young man I was always too busy worrying about my own life and not who a bunch of strange relatives were. Would you like me to point out a few of them to you?"

"No need to get embarrassed, son. Again, I can't blame you. Some of these folks aren't worth the energy it would take to tell you about them." Papaw Jack saw that his great-grandson's attention was focused on the plate of food that rested on his lap.

For years he had tried to figure out what he had done wrong. He had been close to his son and his grandson, but when it came to his great-grandchildren, he had failed miserably. Hugh's son, Dale, would manage to make a brief comment to Granny and him. Then there was Valerie; she was beautiful, but for the most part she too ignored them, which really didn't bother him much.

But with Tyler it was different. He wanted to get to know this boy and to be able to talk with him. He reminded him of himself when he was young. He knew that Tyler didn't dislike them, but he wanted to get around to the real topic...his fear of them and how to settle the matter.

Tyler continued to pick at his food as the silence lengthened. He hated the fact that he was nervous. This was his great-grandpa, not some stranger. But in truth, they were strangers. This was a man who he knew by sight, but he didn't actually know anything about him.

Papaw Jack looked from the boy's plate to his own. He wished he could reach him, but he did not know what words to use. The boy thought of him as old and for that reason alone he kept his distance. Then the answer came to him.

"Of course, I could tell you about some of these here relatives and about some of your ancestors. Most young people think that we've always been old...but believe it or not we were all young at one time. Why, some of the stories I could tell you would make you see us old folks in a whole different light."

"Ahh, I see that I've caught your attention," Papaw Jack laughed. "When all else fails, leave it to plain old human curiosity to grab you by the seat of the pants. Now, I've got you wondering about them, haven't I?"

"You're lying, son. But that's all right. Your little sin is safe with me." Papaw Jack paused for a second before continuing. "Now look at our plates. There's a wealth of history right here."

For just a moment Tyler stared at his plate and then he raised his eyes to his great-grandpa. Was he joking or did he actually believe what he was saying? Whatever the case, Tyler thought maybe now would be a good time to make his excuses and leave.

"Now, don't be looking at me like that, son. I might be old, but I haven't lost my mind. Take that Greek Moussaka on your plate. That has been your Great-Aunt Sally's favorite dish to bring to family get-togethers for years. In case you're wondering, Sally is the old gal sitting over there at the end of the buffet table."

Tyler looked over at the table. The woman was sitting forward, her hands braced on the top of a silver walking stick. Her hair was white and her face was lined with wrinkles.

"This is the way the story goes," Papaw Jack continued pleased that Tyler was paying attention to what he was telling him, "Sally searched for the perfect man for years and finally she found him. He was wealthy, handsome, and he promised to worship her until her dying day...if she learned how to fix Moussaka. After days of worrying over how she would learn to cook this special dish for the man she wanted to marry, she finally came up with a plan.

"She walked downtown and store by store she asked everyone that she met if they knew how to make Moussaka. For two weeks she did this. Asking the same persons day after day. One man in particular would ask her each day why she wanted to learn such a task. Finally one day Sally told him of her dilemma. The man just shook his head and turned away.

"One day, her third week of asking, the man waited near the doorway to his store for her. After two weeks of seeing and talking with her, he had fallen in love with the young woman. But this day instead of stopping, Sally just gave him a pitiful shake of her head, as if to say that she was ready to give up, as she started past him.

"The man frowned for a moment and then nodded his head. 'I know how badly you want to make this Moussaka for this man of yours and I know how tired you are from walking the streets everyday in search of someone to help you. I will teach you.'

"Sally was so pleased that the smile she gave the man brightened her haggard face. This man who looked as though he had nothing in the world but his little store of meats had given her a gift that she could never repay. Quickly he wrote out a list of items that she would need. That night the man came to her house and the cooking instructions began. For several nights they cooked side-by-side making small portions as to not to waste the ingredients. By the end of the week Sally was very pleased...and the man was more in love with her.

"Sally watched him leave her home and she wondered about the sad look upon his face. She looked around her home and suddenly she felt very lonely. That night she did not think of the man that she wanted to marry...she thought of the storekeeper.

"Two days later Sally showed up at the man's store. Her eyes were red and swollen. When he asked her what was wrong she broke down and told him that her soon-to-be husband would not be her husband at all. That he had grown furious when he saw that she had learned to cook Moussaka.

"'I must be honest with you. I taught you to make it wrong. I taught you to make Greek Moussaka. You told me enough about this beau that I knew he was Russian. My only excuse is that I love you and did not want you to marry this man.'

"The story ends with Sally marrying...not her soon-to-be...but her dream man, the man who taught her to make Greek Moussaka."

Tyler again looked a the old woman, then his gaze moved to his Papaw's. He was tempted to ask if the story was true, but then changed his mind.

Papaw Jack pointed his shaky finger at Tyler's plate. "There's an interesting story behind that honey-wheat bread that you have neglected to take a bite of. Ruford Lewis was your second cousin. Now, Ruford was as mean as the day was long. He didn't like anyone...including himself. He lived about ten miles from town and his only means of transportation was an old mule that was just as ornery as he was.

"Well, the way the story goes is that Ruford only liked one thing...food. Winter came early one year and it caught old Ruford unaware. He had only a few things in his cupboards but not enough to keep him fed if the snow should continue for several days.

"If only he could get over to his nearest neighbors house, he thought. Maybe then he could stay with them until the weather passed. He wasn't thrilled with the idea, for not only did he not like the neighbors, but also they did not like him either. Still, he went out to the barn and saddled his mule and then he pulled him out into the freezing cold where snow whipped around them in a flurry. With chattering teeth he climbed upon the back of the mule and kicked his sides prompting the beast to go...but nothing happened. The mule stood as still and unmoving as a marble statue.

"Angry, Ruford climbed down and got behind the mule and pushed with all his might and still the mule would not move. After nearly thirty minutes of trying, Ruford finally gave up. Just as he started back toward the house, he heard the heavy crunching of footsteps behind him. Turning he found the mule following him. With a vile curse, Ruford continued on and once inside the house he slammed the door closed before the mule could reach it.

"Sitting down at his table he drummed his fingers against the roughen wood. What now, he wondered in irritation. With a snap of his fingers he jumped up and went to the cupboard and pulled out a tin box that had once belonged to his mother. Opening it, he riffled through the yellowed recipes, stopping from time to time to look up at his nearly barren shelves. His loud grunt filled the small confines of his home as he pulled out one piece of paper. He looked over the list of items he would need in order to make it. He scratched his head over one item.

"The sound of his old mule braying just outside his door brought a smile to his face. To say the least, Ruford feasted for the next few days...on honey-wheat bread...made out of mule oats. While the mule stood in front of Ruford's small hearth. To Ruford's way of thinking he made a fair trade."

Though he tried not to, Tyler smiled as he took a bite of the honey-wheat bread. He could just picture a big old mule sitting in front of their hearth. His mother would have a fit.

Tyler's smile grew when he followed his Papaw's finger and found himself staring at an old man sitting on the sofa...in front of the hearth.

Papaw Jack smiled along with his young great-grandson. He was making headway with the boy and that alone was worth the torture his rear end was taking by sitting on the hard cushioned bench. "Now take a look at this here on my plate. It called the Devilish Bake Corn and it got its name from Lloyd Richards. Lloyd was what the ladies called handsome...some said it was sinfully so.

"It was Lloyd's goal to stay single until he was too old to be considered handsome; that way he would know for certain that the woman he did marry wanted him for himself and not his good looks. It was also said that he did not want to tie himself down to just one woman...not when there was so many running free around Chicago.

"Lloyd rolled his eyes, thinking that it was the widow woman that lived down the hall. The woman was lovely and sweet, but she was determined that he was going to be husband number three. No matter how many times he told her that he wasn't interested, the lady would not give up and thereby she pestered him constantly.

"But he was wrong when he opened his door with a jerk and there before him stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Well, Lloyd wasn't sure who she was or what she was doing outside his door, but he did know that the second he looked into her golden eyes that he wanted this woman above all others...at least that's the way he always told the story.

"Anyway, just then a billowing cloud of smoke came rolling into the living room from the kitchen. While Lloyd fought against his embarrassment, the lady pushed past him and ran into the kitchen to search out the source of the smoke. When she opened the oven door she found a blacken dish with it's contents charred to a crisp.

"Lloyd's embarrassment grew when she pulled out the smoking dish. She placed it on the stove and then smiled at him. Upon seeing her smile, he asked her to have dinner with him...the following night. The woman accepted. He made the same dish, only this time he watched it closely. That was the beginning of Devilish Baked Corn...and of Lloyd and the sales lady."

"Ahh, I can see that you don't believe me. But you can ask old Lloyd yourself if you like. That's him over there and that's his wife of nearly fifty-five years at his side. Poor Lilia had a stroke two years ago. The doctors told him that she was too much for him to handle and that he should put her in a nursing home, but Lloyd wouldn't hear of it. He and his children take care of her."

The old man and woman sat side by side on the love seat. The woman had her head leaned against the old man's shoulder...but what held Tyler's attention was the sight of their hands entwined with each others.

A feeling like none he had ever felt before fluttered in his chest, making Tyler pull his gaze away. "And what story goes with this one?" he asked, trying to hide his discomfort.

Papaw Jack wanted to reach out and touch his great-grandson, but instead he looked at the Zucchini Squash Delicious. "Ahh, that would be the story of Donovan Lewis...my grandfather. Donovan was a gambling man. From the time he was old enough to hold a deck of cards in his hands it had become his obsession. But he was the worse gambler that ever did live. He couldn't keep a woman for the simple reason he could not afford one, not when he lost all his money at the tables. Now I have to be fair and say that Donovan was a handsome man, but women were not interested in a man that threw his money away as fast as he did.

"If only bad luck could have been good, then Donovan would have been as rich as a miser...but it wasn't and neither was he. He gambled away every possession he had and whatever money touched his hand. Finally, he had reached the end of life's road. He had one dollar to his name, no place to live and no food.

"'What can a man do with a single dollar?' he asked himself, knowing exactly where his conversation with himself was leading him. 'Nothing.' he answered, as he made his way to the local tavern.

"Sure enough he took his last dollar and laid it on the table. But Donovan's luck wasn't nearly so bad that night. He continued to win enough to keep him in the game. Of course, if he had been a smart man he would have quit when the money was high and he was the winner. But at that time in his life Donovan was far from smart. Instead he sat, hand after hand, winning a little...and losing a little.

"All but one man dropped out. This man was having worse luck than Donovan...he used the watch that his father had given him; he used the mother-of-pearl pin that had once belonged to his grandmother and finally he pulled out a scrap of paper from his breast pocket. For a moment the man stared at it and then gently laid it on top of the money piled in the center of the table.

"'My greatest treasure.' The man whispered, wiping his brow on the sleeve of his coat. Reaching over the man lifted the top card from the deck of cards and laid it on the table face up and waited for Donovan to do the same.

"Donovan looked at the money, then his gaze moved to the scrap of paper. He knew that whatever luck he might have had this night was about used up and that it was time for his retched luck to return. With a shrug, he lifted the top card. His hand paused in mid-air...what harm could it do to ask his Maker for a little help, he thought. If he could win this one last time he promised that he would never gamble again. With a deep breath he laid the card down.

"Donovan watched as the other man got slowly to his feet. "Here...take the watch and the stickpin with you. And remember this, gambling doesn't pay...it only takes."

"The man opened his hand to receive the watch and pin, but his eyes lingered on the paper. He knew he couldn't ask for it, for the winner had been more than generous with him. With lowered head he left.

"Donovan grabbed up the money and stuffed into his pocket and then he gingerly picked up the old piece of paper and gently placed in the front pocket of his ragged coat. Out of fear of being robbed, he quickly left and headed for the local mission where he was staying. Upon reaching the comfort of his mat, he pulled out the paper and carefully unwrapped it.

"His laughter filled the quiet room, waking the other occupants. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Donovan stared at the other man's treasure. It was not a deed to a rich mine, it was not a map to a hidden treasure and it was not the title to some big home. No, it was none of these things. It was a recipe. The paper had stains of years gone by on it. He couldn't believe that he had kept the worthless piece of paper and had let the man take the watch and pin; both would have brought him some good money once sold.

"But, I'll have you know that Donovan did make his fortune with that old recipe. Out of curiosity he made it and it was so welled liked at the mission that he continued to make it for them. One of the men told him to take a sample of the dish down to a little diner on 1st Street and Tate Avenue, that surely the owner would love to serve such a dish to her customers. Donovan went and for nearly twenty years he made that recipe...he also married...the owner."

Tyler took a bite of the Zucchini Squash Delicious. It was good, he admitted to himself. So, this was a recipe that his great-great-grandpa had made...and had caught a wife with. It was kind of neat to know a little something about his ancestors.

"Now I'm going to tell you about your third cousin, Mable and her husband Pearl and their Two Cheeses and Mushroom on Swedish Rye Bread. Mable is over there," Papaw Jack pointed. "She's the one standing by the door staring out. She does that a lot since Pearl passed on a year ago. Some say that she's looking for him, while others say that she's waiting to join him.

"As the story goes, Mable and Pearl had been together from the time they were both toddlers. As they began their married life money was slim which meant so was the food. A young woman in the next apartment showed Mable how to make this dish that was not only cheap, but was filling as well.

"Pearl didn't like the recipe much and he told Mable so. Now Mable did like it, but she wanted Pearl to like it also. So she began experimenting with the recipe until she finally got it right...which meant until Pearl was happy. It had taken her years to perfect it to Pearl's taste.

"From that day on that recipe became their family tradition... served in every one of Pearl and Mable's fifty years of marriage. She still makes it just the way Pearl liked it...and she stills smiles when ever someone comments on how good it is."

It was a sad story, Tyler thought glancing over at the elderly lady standing by the doorway. It did look as if she were looking for someone. It made him realize just what these older relatives had lived through and the price that they had paid to reach that age of theirs.

Papaw Jack saw the sad look on Tyler's face and this time he did reach over and pat his hand in a comforting gesture. "I have another story to tell you. This here is called Heavenly Sausage-Sweet Potato Casserole and your Great-Uncle Albert's story goes with this one."

"Albert Richards was a wealthy man with a poor man's taste. He could have anything that money could buy, but he found his greatest joy in things that didn't cost him a single cent. Those in his social standing thought he was an idiot. They couldn't understand his enjoyment from doing such simple things. Like walking through the park, sitting on the bench throwing bread crumbs to the birds or on clear nights he could be found down on the old Mill Bridge staring up at the stars.

"Now the poor folks thought him to be just as much an idiot because they couldn't understand how a man of his wealth could enjoy the same things they did...things they had no choice but to enjoy for there was nothing else to do.

"One afternoon as Albert sat in the park feeding the birds, an old woman and man passed by and took a seat at the nearby picnic table. Albert watched as they took out their meager meal and placed it on the scarred table. The delicious scent of the food drifted over to him on the breeze.

"It was the most tantalizing aroma he had ever smelled and one that he couldn't ignore. He approached the elderly couple and asked them if he could join them...adding hastily that he would pay them for the food.

"The old man and woman looked at each other and then to him. 'You can keep your money, son,' the old man replied. 'We've always shared what we have with others, though at times it hasn't been much. Take a seat and my Maggie will fix you a plate.'

"The couple went on to tell Albert about the year that they had gotten married. They had been so poor that they barely had enough money to live on. But Maggie had fixed up a basket and together they had walked to the park hand in hand and there they had shared their wedding meal. And they had carried on the tradition each year.

"Albert was so touched by their story and by the sincerity of their words that it made him realize that it was not merely the fact that he enjoyed a poor man's way of life. But in truth he was too cheap and liked hoarding his money instead of spending it.

"From that day on Albert spent his money...but he spent it helping others who were not so fortunate. One of the first things he tried to do was help the elderly couple, but they wouldn't accept what they called charity. So he offered them a job at his home. Maggie was hired to help teach his cook how to prepare the simple fare he had eaten that day in the park, while her husband, Ian, was to show Albert how to make fishing lures and how to fish properly. It was said that Maggie and Ian lived their last days there at Albert's home and that they continued to share their wedding meal in the park."

Tyler looked down at their plates and knew that for certain there were more stories coming. He waited with an anticipation that surprised him. This was the longest conversation that he and his Papaw Jack had ever shared...if it could be considered a conversation.

"This here is called Hester's Pineapple Chicken," Papaw Jack said and then proceeded to take a bite of it. He closed his eyes and made a loud smacking noise. "Just the way your great-great-grandmother on your mother's side made it years ago. It was rumored that Hester sold her soul to the devil. Now, don't be giving me that look, son. I can't help what others say or what they gossip about. I can only tell you what was said. I'm not one to believe in such tales myself, but this is how it went.

"It seems that Hester was what her neighbors referred to as unusual. She lived her first eighteen years of life secluded and sheltered by a spinster aunt on the outskirts of town. She had not one single friend...no acquaintance...only her aunt. Anyway, it was said that Hester went loco with her loneliness.

"Then one day a stranger showed up on her doorstep...offering her all that she ever desired. Hester glanced over her shoulder to where her aunt sat in her favorite chair; a sour expression on her face as her hands worked on yet another doily. Hester was tired of her life and quickly agreed to whatever it was the man was selling.

"It was said that everyday the man visited with Hester for hours at a time. Within a week the neighbors began noticing a change in her. They remarked, as they watched her pass by on her way to the store, that something was very different about her. That she seemed more content with her existence. It was also noted that she seemed to grow lovelier with each passing day. They wondered why they had never noticed what a fine looking woman she was before.

"Within a month's time her neighbors began calling on her and inviting her to local functions, but Hester declined. It seemed that she was to busy with the stranger to make time for anyone else...even her aunt.

"A year later Hester married...to the very man that had changed her. Some said that the man was the devil, but others said that the man was an angel from above...but both sides did agree on one thing...Hester had sold her heart and soul on that fateful day the stranger came knocking."

"Shell and Fruit Delight, son," Papaw Jack corrected him. "This story goes along with the Ham Croquettes with Mustard Sauce. And it is one of the most fascinating stories that I have ever heard. Delia was as rare as her name. She had hair as black as night, eyes of dark brown and a heart that was made of pure golden goodness.

"Delia didn't create these recipes. But it was her sweet nature that made everyone love the dish. Often people referred to her as a pure angel sent from the heavens above.

"No matter what was wrong in her life, she always wore a smile. No matter what others would say to hurt her tender feelings, she would just shake her head and smile at them. Yes sir, no matter what, Delia had a smile for everyone. Now, her mother it was said was the opposite. Never did the woman have a nice word to say about anything and no one could recall seeing her smile.

"In order to avoid her mother's cruelty, Delia spent most of her time at her neighbor's house and that's where she learned how to cook Ham Croquettes. The elderly couple was very kind to her and they pitied such a sweet thing for having such a mean-hearted mother. They opened their home and their hearts to her. She was, in truth, the light of their lives.

"One day the elderly man could hear the mother shouting at her daughter as the girl made her way across the yard that separated their homes. He shook his head in aggravation. When Delia was safely inside their house the man slammed the door closed, hoping to block out the sound of the mother's screeching.

The elderly woman gave her husband a scowl as she patted Delia's shoulder in a comforting gesture. But the couple was surprised when the young girl looked up with her usual smile on her face.

"The couple laughed at her statement. But the truth of the matter was, Delia was not joking." Papaw Jack finished his tale with a sad shake of his head. "If you look over there by the buffet table you'll see Delia's only daughter, Kate. She too was born with her mother's affliction."

Tyler looked over and found an old woman standing near the table talking with a couple of other ladies. He didn't have to ask his Papaw which one; he knew. Only one of the ladies had hair of black streaked with gray and when he saw her face he could tell that in her younger days she must have been a rare beauty.

Again, Tyler felt his anticipation grow. If this was his papaw's favorite story then it had to be the best of the tales. "Okay, I'm ready."

Papaw Jack picked up one of the cinnamon balls and turned it in his hand. "This is a story about a young and beautiful woman. Every man who lived near her wanted her. Not only because of her beauty or the fact that she was sweet and gentle...but because it was also a well-known fact that the young woman could cook food that would make a man's heart melt.

"The men would gather around her front stoop waiting for the chance to woo her with sweet words and maybe in return she would give them a smile...and a plate of her cinnamon balls. All except one young man. Whenever he got the chance he would tell the young beauty the wickedest tales about the other young men. Now, you have to understand that this boy was sort of like the boy that called wolf...in some ways.

"Anyway, the young woman's family was tired of tripping over the young men every time they came home or wanted to leave. The mother and father told their daughter that she would have to choose one man and send the rest away.

"So the next day the young woman fixed up a batch of cinnamon balls and walked out to stand upon the top of the stoop. In a clear voice she told the men to line up and she would hand the plate to the man that she wanted as her own.

"The men scrambled to do as she had bidden. One by one she walked by with her platter of goodies in her hand. She stopped when she came to the last young man. Turning on heel she looked over the group. Then she faced the man she was standing in front of and held out the platter to him.

"The young woman looked at each angry face that glared at her and the young man she had chosen. Then she did the most amazing thing...she smiled."

"Don't be rude, son," Papaw Jack grumbled tapping the end of his cane against the floor. "If I knew you were going to be stubborn about this I would have picked one of your cousins to tell my stories to."

"I'm being rude...I'm being truthful. Something you apparently don't know anything about. No matter which way you dress it up, you lied."

"Lied?" Papaw Jack held out a hand in a pleading gesture. "I'll have you know that some of those tales were true...but it will be up to you to figure out which ones were truth and which were just stories."

"Well, the only way I know of is to go around and talk to these relatives of yours. I told you the stories for two reasons, son. One; so that you would talk with me, if only a little bit. And two, so that you would perhaps see us older folks in a different light."

Tyler looked out at the group and smiled. His papaw was good, he thought. He had accomplished both tasks with his storytelling. Now, as he looked at the man he always thought too fragile to go near, he saw something different. He saw a man with a great, if somewhat distorted, sense of humor.

"Now, I suppose we'll go back to being strangers. You know, Tyler, you have to remember one thing as you go through life. Time has a way of catching up with a person. Take my word on it. Someday you'll be as old as the rest of these ancient badgers."

For several long seconds Tyler thought over the stories that he had just heard and over the most important fact that he had learned. His parents were right. Papaw Jack and Granny might be old, but they were strong in spirit.

"I know..." Papaw Jack's words halted. His gaze locked with that of his great-grandson, even as his throat closed up with emotions.

"Don't let it go to your head, son," Papaw Jack grumbled and then smiled. "Your granny would sure like to get to know you. She's a lovely woman...a bit high handed once she gets use to you, though."

"It very well could be, son. Now, I guess it's time that I made my way back to Granny's side. She worries when I'm out of her sight for too long."

"That's good, son. Right here in this very room you have a room full of untold history. History waiting for a good ear to listen to it. Young people just don't realize how much it means to us old folks to have an eager ear to tell our tales, our life's experience and our lessons in sorrow, too. You can learn a wealth from us."

"I'll say," Tyler laughed. "I've learned quite a bit today. I learned that you're a liar, that you have a twisted sense of humor...and that you know how to put a guy like me on the right path."

Stir together all ingredients except toasted bread. For best results; toast bread in oven. Spread mixture on toast leaving a 1/4 edge on all sides. Place on backing sheet. Broil 4 inches from source of heat for about 3 minutes or until cheese is melted. Cut each waffle into 1/4 wedges.

Combine water, sugar, salt, molasses and shortening; cook for 3 minutes. Cool to lukewarm. Soften yeast in sugar mixture; add flour and knead until smooth. Place in greased bowl. Cover with damp cloth and let rise for about 2 hours or until double in size. Knead and shape into loaves and place in greased loaf pans. Let rise until top is just above the edge of pan. Bake at 325 for 45 minutes.

Soften yeast in water. Combine honey, salt, shortening and milk; stir to melt shortening. Cool to lukewarm. Add softened yeast. Add flour gradually, to make a stiff dough. Knead on floured surface until smooth. Place in greased bowl and cover with damp towel. Let rise in warm place until double in size.

Shape into two loaves. Place in greased loaf pans; cover and let rise until tops of loaves are well above pan edges. Bake at 350 for 50-60 minutes.

Measure the first 5 ingredients into a medium bowl. Beat well. Add ham and mix well. Shape into 16 croquettes. Set aside. In a shallow dish beat eggs and water until frothy. Dip croquettes into egg mixture. Coat evenly with 3/4 cups corn flake crumbs.

Melt margarine in small saucepan over low heat. Stir in flour and salt. Add milk gradually, stirring until smooth. Increase heat to medium and cook until bubbly and thickened, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Stir in mustard, horseradish and parsley.

Prepare macaroni according to package directions; drain. In a medium bowl, combine shells, fruit cocktail, banana and apple. In a small bowl blend whipped topping and cinnamon. Stir into fruit mixture. Cover and chill thoroughly. Stir gently before serving.

Salt eggplant and drain well. Saute onion in 1/2 cup butter; add tomatoes, veal, parsley, 1/2 teaspoon salt, the pepper, cinnamon and nutmeg. Add wine and cook for 30 minutes; you do not want the mixture to be thin and runny.

Fry eggplant slices in olive oil until golden. Place in a heated, butter casserole dish. Sprinkle with 2 tablespoon bread crumbs.

Blend 2 tablespoon melted butter with flour in a saucepan; cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until it bubbles...about 3 minutes. Mixture should be golden, but not brown. Remove from heat; add 1/4 teaspoon salt, cayenne and milk. Stir rapidly with a whisk. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until sauce bubbles, cook 1 minute longer. Beat in eggs.

Pour sauce over casserole. Cover with remaining cheese and bread crumbs. Bake at 425 for 20 minutes; until the top is golden.