Aunt Maude's Churn Paddle Still Useful!

Several of my friends have asked me if I was going to tear down the old buildings in the back now that I am putting in a new garage. I may have to back up here a little to fully explain. The garage is in keeping with my year long quest for the Husband of the Year award. As you might remember I purchased the Western Channel for Cathy’s Christmas present. For our anniversary this summer I took her to the banks of the Little Bighorn River in Montana, the site of Custer’s famous last stand. I figured these two sacrifices by themselves were enough to get J D Power and Associates to recognize me officially as Husband of the Year. I threw the Oreck XL vacuum cleaner in on her birthday just for insurance.

I was practicing my acceptance speech in front of some co-workers when one of them fell over in shock and disbelief. She "allowed" in no uncertain terms, that I must be out of my ever-loving mind! Apparently, unbeknownst to me, there are scores of men vying to "out-do" me in the relationship business. I immediately started on a garage so Cathy wouldn't have to unload groceries in the rain.

This was no time to wiggle-waggle. I had to come up with a coup de grace! This new, two car edifice with some nice trimmings, built especially for my wife, would surely put me over the top. I dug out a space and went to pouring concrete!

Now, back to the question at hand; am I going to tear down the two fifty year old, dilapidated buildings out by the back fence? Listen, I’m from Tennessee. Ain’t nobody from the Volunteer state going to take down a perfectly good building ever. For any reason!

First of all, you can’t have too much storage space. If someone shows up with fifty-seven bushels of corn, we’ve got to have room. You might need to lay out some tomatoes for ripening. I don’t have quite enough space to hang tobacco but I’ve got a great bench for a re-loading machine. You’ve got to have an extra halter or two in case your neighbors’ horse wanders over. If your in-laws come for the week-end and decide to “stay a few extra days” you can suddenly remember you’ve got to find Aunt Maude’s churn paddle you stored in the back shed. If you play it just right, it can take two or three days to sift through every thing in that old building. And when your grand-niece marries the son of the foreman of the Southern Star Lumber Company, you just might need that tool shed to roll down to the next holler so they can set up house keeping.

Where would we cook the chittlins? Most housewives banned them from the kitchen after the Second World War. What if we needed an “emergency” board to lay across the porch steps? The back wall of the furtherest out building is an easy target. You can nail it back on come spring when you fix the steps proper. You need a place to run to if the back yard pickin’ and singin’ gets interrupted by a sudden shower. The last thing on earth that can happen is to get that Gibson Hummingbird or your Martin D-45 wet!

I’ve seen moonshine kept in innocent looking kerosene drums. I’ve listened to the biggest whoppers ever told sitting astride an old saw horse in a back shed. Leon would hide out behind the saddles when it was time to hoe cotton. We used a sidewall to keep score of the horse shoe throwing. And you need a “safety valve” in case Mama deems no more tobacco spitting contests in the living room. Shoot, we used to prop the really old cribs up with cross ties to keep them from tilting over!

It hasn’t ever crossed my mind for one second to tear down either of those outstanding buildings! What would Cathy do with her Christmas ornaments? I’ve got a giant inflatable reindeer across my table saw even as we speak. Boxes of different colored Christmas lights cover a fair sized work bench. A black stove-top hat that belongs to Frosty hangs beside my Golden Flo co-op cap. Candles and Yuletide motifs adorn the back wall. My tool belt is a holder for a corn cop pipe and an eggnog recipe. Folks, if I tear that shed down, we can forget about Christmas at our house!

And I’m not even going to get into the clay flower pots. I don’t have any idea how many sizes those things come in…..but we’ve got six of each! We have’em stacked to the ceiling in one room. Several are cracked. Some have wild creatures growing out of them. All have holes in the bottom. And I don’t think any of them have been touched by a human hand in fifteen years. But boys, we’ve got’em in case we decide to spruce up the area around the garage!         

As you can see, this new building doesn’t warrant or equate to two old sheds being torn down. I reckon I’ll limp along with all three. I am hoping Cathy decides to put her Christmas ornaments and clay pots in the garage like God intended. Boy howdy, I could get my saw and workbench back! And win Husband of the Year award at the same time. It’s a trifecta!

’Course, I haven’t won the award yet. At least, J D hasn’t called. But I figure I’m a shoe in…….

Respectfully,

Kes