Reviewing one of my Jottings of several years ago, the headline, ‘Our Chivaree? stopped me.
Stop here, while I explain why chivaree is spelled differently above. At the time of that writing I searched for a single spelling of shivaree. I found more than one, and decided on chivaree ’cause I liked it best.
A more current dictionary gives one spelling, shivaree, and it means ‘a noisy mock ceremony to a newly wed couple.?
I found one person in our office of ‘young people? who had been shivareed. But, while hers had all the pan banging, ours had more.
After our New Orleans honeymoon (and that is no place to go on a honeymoon) Hazel and I settled into a little home in Lennon, her hometown on the Shiawassee and Genesee county line.
Lennon had two bars, one for each county. The beer tasted the same in both bars. On a November Saturday night, Hazel’s friends decided to drop in. Actually, they didn’t just drop in. They sort of surrounded the house, and gently awakened us from all directions with shotguns, firecrackers, banging on the doors and windows and whoops and hollers.
I’ll say this for them, they didn’t enter the house until we opened the door. And, we were properly attired at the time. It was 1 a.m. (and we had been sleeping).
As some encouraged us to put on warm clothes, others (we found later) put corn flakes in our bed. Oxydol in the towel closet and otherwise fixed things well enough so I still remember.
Once clothed, Hazel and I were ushered outside where a bobsled was waiting. A tractor on the front whirled us up and down a few streets in Lennon and pulled to a stop in front of the Genesee county pub, just before closing time.
The doors were locked and our private party got underway. Of course, we had to be initiated into club Hazel’s friends had invented for the night. Separately, Hazel and I were led blindfolded out a door, alongside the bistro, to a window opening into the bar’s kitchen.
We were told to put a hand through the opening, whereupon some warm, gooey mess met the chilled paw. Too, there was a nasty liquid they insisted we drink to instill the moment in our minds.
Like all initiations, the gooey mess wasn’t what they described it to be, though it could well have been. (It wasn’t a horse’s rear.) It was a hotdog bun soaked in warm water, and the liquid was a mixture of pickle juice and vinegar, too, not what they had implied.
Oh, it was a grand group of farmers, factory workers, self-employed and harassment experts.
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Ancient Egyptians believed the whole earth was part of their god, Keb. The stars were the jewels of a goddess in the sky and their god of air held her aloft. Al Gore is Keb.
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Quotes from 1957: ‘I’ll tell you one thing, if things keep going the way they are, it’s going to be impossible to buy a week’s groceries for $20.?
‘Have you seen the new cars coming out next year? It won’t be long before $5,000 will only buy a used one.?
‘If cigarettes keep going up in price, I’m going to quit. A quarter a pack is ridiculous.?
Bread was 19 cent a loaf, gallon of gas 24 cents and average income $4,494.00.
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I found Jesus. He was in the trunk of my car when I got back from Tijuana.