Why do bad things happen to good people ?

This has always been a tough question. I have had the occasion to ponder this before. I consider myself a fairly good person. Always trying to take personal responsibility for my actions. I try to show reasonable compassion for everyone and everything and I try to have a good word for the folks I interact with daily.

I believe most folks are basically good. I just can’t understand why some of them get dumped on so badly sometimes. Sometimes I wonder who’s dealing these cards and what was She thinking. It’s like, doesn’t that person have enough to deal with already. Some folks I know just don’t deserve all the shit that comes their way. And some of it is really serious and it makes me wonder just why it happens to them. Especially with all the problems they already have. Problems they did not create for themselves.

I am not sure of my beliefs when it comes to God, evolution, creation, heaven, hell, life itself. So I deal with it the best way I have come up with to this point in my life and that’s responsibility, compassion, kindness, tolorence, and patients. Like a very wise man once told me a very wise man told him, “just keep your side of the street clean.” That’s what I am trying to do.

It wasn’t long ago I read this paragraph from the Encyclopedia Britannica, although I found it in another book. I really like what it has to say and find it helpful in my search for reasoning for this life of ours here on planet Earth.

Ecclesiastes. This is a book of the Old Testament.

The authors observations on life convinced him that “the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor the bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the man of skill; but time and chance happen to them all” (9:11). Mans fate, the author maintains, does not depend on rightous or wicked conduct but is an inscrutable mystery that remains hidden in God (9:1). All attempts to cure ones fate are “vainty,” or futile. In the face of such uncertainty, the author’s counsel is to enjoy the good things that God provides while one has them to enjoy.

So that would be my counsel, for what it’s worth. That and let’s all take care of each other.

Mobile

Decided to go to Mobile this past weekend for a couple of reasons. One, we had not seen either of our Familys in awhile and two, Tracy needed to get some lumber.

Before we leave, we flip through the book “Southern Belly” by John T. Edge. It’s a compilation of unique southern food destinations that some friends gave us several years ago. We’ve used it on another trip we made from Atlanta to Little Rock and had some great food adventures. So, we looked through the listings for Alabama and decided to stop at Chuck’s Bar-b-que in Opelika.

Friday morning about 9:30, we packed a suitcase, put George in the cab of the truck and headed to Mobile. We have three dogs, George is the one that travels best. Brownie and She She will keep each other company while we are gone. Marcia May will feed them twice a day. She’s our neighbor who happens to be a Dog Sitter. We couldn’t travel so much without her expert services.

About an hour and forty minutes down Interstate 85 South, we exit at number 60 - Opelika. Turn right and follow the signs. It’s not far till we see the smoke billowing from the building.

We are early and that’s a good thing. Because after we order and make it to a booth to wait for our number to be called there is a line of about a dozen customers. Everyone from Farmer Brown to the local businessmen are qued and waiting to order. I notice, as I wait for them to call ticket #3, that most folks don’t even look at the the menu board we had to use, to place their order.

Ticket #3 is called and I go pick up a tray of bar-b-qued chicken, a chipped pork sandwhich and sides of slaw and beans. I haven’t had chicken off the grill in I don’t know how long. This chicken is so good I make a note to self, self I say, bar-b-que chicken at home real soon. The sandwhich and sides are delicious as well. We take turns eating off each others plate.

Sated and satisfied we hit the road again, south to Mobile. I am already thinking about the burger I plan on ordering tonight at Butch Cassidys’.

And that’s where the evening finds us. With Jim and Betty, tucked into a four topper at the bar and grill that serves the “soon to be famous” burger. And its good. It ain’t no ghetto burger, but it’s good.

And that is what this weekend is all about it seems. Food. Nothing real fancy, but lots of good home cooking.

The next night we dine with Nancy and Marion at La Pizzeria. This place has the best pizza in Mobile if you ask me. Very thin curst with very fresh toppings. Just two or three different toppings on each pie and never to much sauce. I especially like the White pizza. They also have great pasta dishes and great service. And lets don’t forget the martinis, ice cold and best by the dozen.

Like I said, this weekend seems to be about good home cooking and Sunday morning is the best. Mom and Dad lay out a breakfast like never before. Well, not since the last Sunday we were home. Because Sunday brunch, when any one or more of their children are home is the same. A large pot of cheese grits, eggs, scrambled, bisquits the size of small hubcaps, bacon, sauage, banana bread, sweet rolls, jellies, juice and coffee.

And that my friend gets us back to Atlanta, where we fall into bed and try to sleep it off. But thats gonna require a trip to the gym.

I did get some old lumber thas was part of a Mardi Gras float. So some lucky person will get something built from it.

Ms Annes’ Snack Shop

SO…
I like hamburgers.
Two fisted, juicy hamburgers with lots of stuff piled on. There’s just something about having to hold a sandwich with both hands as the juices drip down your chin - MAN.

I was not disappointed with either of my visits to Ms. Annes’ Snack Shop.

Sitting at the counter watching her form two meat patties the size of her fists, then slice some onion and throw it all on the grill. As those start to cook, she peels of a couple of slices of bacon, which she then deep fries. A little mayo and ketchup are spread on the bun. The onion and bacon are put on one of the meat patties, chili is spooned on, then it’s topped off with the other meat patty. The Ghetto Burger is a sight to behold. TRUELY.
A two fisted work of art of the grill.

Ms. Annes does have a few rules. Know what you want, no leaning on the counter and no cursing, among others. But that should not (and doesn’t) stop folks from coming in for a Ghetto Burger. It’s a one woman show, from a single wide trailor, with limited seating. Rules help keep order to all the burgers coming off the grill.

The second visit was a SEINFELD episode, as well as being delicious. I took a co-worker who had no idea where we were going. He just knew he had to have a burger, after hearing me talk about it.

As we drove the 15 minutes to Memorial Drive, I explained the “rules”. When she asks what you want, just tell her you’ll have a Ghetto Burger with fries. It’s easy.

The counter to order is just inside the front door. As we entered, my friend walked up to the counter, but as luck would have it, two stools became available. Ms. Anne turned from the grill, nodded to the empty stools and said “Have a seat”. Ben (my friend) looked at Ms. Anne and said “I’ll have a Ghetto Burger and fries”. She glances back over her shoulder and repeats “Have a seat”. I gently push him towards the empty stools.

Once we are seated, Ms. Anne walks to our end of the of the counter and looks at me. The conversation goes something like this…
“Ready to order ?” she asks in a stern grandmotherly way.
“I’ll have a Ghetto Burger and fries, please”.
“You sure you can eat all that ?”
“Yes ma’am”

Ben is getting pale. Ms. Anne goes to prep a burger on the grill.
A couple with child have come in and are waiting at the counter. The little boy was bout six or seven and not tall enough to see over the counter. He starts jumping up and down trying to peak over. Ms. Anne never turns around from the grill, but say’s loudly “Take that noise outside.” The woman looks at her husband, grabs her son and goes outside. Leaving her husband to place their order.

Ben quickly turns to me and says ” You order for me.”

Ms. Anne appears in front of Ben. I say “He’ll have a Ghetto Burger and fries.”
She looks at the two of us, then returns to the grill.

Our burgers are ready and placed in front of us. I pick up my burger with two hands and take a bite. Ben does the same. We both smile.

Ms. Anne turns and asks “How is it ?” “Delicious” we both say.
Now we are all smiling.

Go soon, I hear Ms. Anne is going to be closing soon. It would be a shame to miss out !

The Front Porch

I did not grow up with a front porch but I have always thought of a porch as being truly Southern. Neighbors relaxing on their front porch, observing the neighborhood, speaking to folks as they walk by, waving to those they know. Inviting friends up to sit and chat. Catching up on each others lives. Sharing thoughts on past events and plan future meetings.

In todays world it’s a nice place to slow down. Get out of that fast-paced work, drive home, take the kids to soccer routine. At forty three, I am the proud owner of a front porch in the south. It happens to be attached to a great house built in 1917, but, that’s another story.

We keep a table and chairs, candles, and music speakers on the porch. Neighbors come by at various times. Some visit for a few minutes, others stay for hours. Both are very much welcome.

Meals are sometimes cooked on the porch. Fried oysters, grilled hamburgers or maybe a shrimp boil. Pupu platters of cheese, olives and bread. Listening to our neighbors talk about their kids. Tuning in a Sunday evening radio show called “This American Life”. Having a glass of wine waiting for the kids to come trick or treating at Halloween. Reading the newspaper, while sipping coffee. Talking on the phone with family in Alabama. All from my front porch.

Living in the South allows me a lot of happy times on my porch. Weather permits many days and nights enjoyed outside.

I love my time on the front porch.

Panama - Day Three

We wake, make coffee and hit the beach, all before 8AM. We want to see if the fisherman have their nets out and sure enough, there’s a group in either direction, working the nets. We walk in the direction of the group we have never seen before. They are younger and catch far less than the other group we have seen. It appears they have to pay off the police, who stand around and watch until the nets are up, and then help themselves to two plastic bags of fish.

This is our last day, we must leave early in the morning for a Noon flight. We decided to find a bar (we had read about online) and try the burger they bragged about. XS Memories Sports Bar is about one mile from where we are.

The burgers are OK, but the wild life on display was much better. Toucans, parrots, squirrel monkeys and lots more birds in large cage all over the well kept grounds. Worth the 5 minute drive and the price of a burger & beer ($4.50). The owners are Americans and were having a fund raiser the next day for local school.

Back to #11. Beach, beers, cigars and relaxing. Trying not to think about leaving tomorrow, But at the same time talking about somewhere new to go.

Panama - Day Two

So…We woke early the next morning, had coffee and headed to the beach for a pre-breakfast walk. The “teams” are at it again. They have just started to pull the net in. You can tell because the birds are circling overhead. We hurry to see the catch. Huge. A couple of string-rays (again) and thousands of fish. Pelicans get some. Black turkey buzzards get some. All on the team take home plastic bags full.

We try to ask how they divided up the catch, how they are related and what do they do with all the catch, but very little of our English is understood. Only smiling people looking back at us. Back to #11 for breakfast and to prepare for a relaxing morning on the beach. As this is our first beach trip for the year, we can only handle so much sun in one sitting. Time for more beers and a little break. We get in the car and drive to the mini super or bodega, which is about 5 minutes from #11. You can get eggs, 35 cents beers, rum, Spanish wines, bug spray, coffee - you know - the important stuff. We only have a one hundred dollar bills and 4.25 in change.

Today, they cannot make change, so we get 8 beers, 4 eggs for $3.40. Just what we needed. When we drive back to Las Sirenas, I see Mr. Inez. He is sitting in the same spot as when we checked in. He seems to oversee the other workers that do yard work, collect trash and exchange dirty towels for clean ones. He’s good, but no English at all. I tell Tracy to stop. I will see if he can make change on the $ 100. Tracy chuckles and says “Good Luck.” I walk over to where he is sitting. It’t outside the cottage that says “Recepcion”. He looks at me. I hold up the one hundred dollar bill and say “make change” and “picito”. He looks at me, then at the bill. Takes it. Looks for the magnetic strip, making sure it’s real. Then opens his check in log book, there’s money in the pages. He counts out 5 $ 20 bills. Perfect. As I get in the car, Tracy says “Pretty Good”.

Late afternoon and we are ready for some air conditioning. A shower and ceiling fan feel really good. A pupu platter with apples, nuts, chirizo and leftover cheese from the restaurant and a white Spanish riojas wine. For entertainment, we have brought along a portable dvd. We rented Borat and the series WEEDS - first season. We sit on the back porch, looking at the dvd and relaxing well into the evening. The bedroom is the only room with actual air-conditioning. The kitchen/living room and the back porch have ceiling fans. The bedroom keeps just above freezing.

It’s really easy to sleep. We are so spoiled.

Panama - End of Day One

Sunset, beer, tequila and watching a boat drop a net for the catch. Cannot figure out what is going on. Will watch and look. Try to learn.

The boat is barely off the beach where the waves break. He has dropped a flag to signify the start of the net. We watch, he moves slowly and is about a mile from shore, having stretched the net out to sea. Different from the beach scene earlier in the day.

The sun disappears, we can still see the sun in the distance. A light flashing every so often. OK, he wins. We are hungry and there is no sign of him pulling up net.

We decided to go to a restaurant that we passed on the drive-in. It’s only about 5 miles up the street, on top of a hill. The Camerones.

The place is all lit up with lots of chairs. 4 tables are occupied. One is a table of eight, that happens to be the gringos staying at out place. The restaurant has table cloths and lots of candles, but no walls. Open air with a thatched roof overhead. Very nice. Our server brings the menu, which is in Spanish and English, and offers to get cocktails. Beer and tequila is a good start. Ceviche - cool and refreshing - either with shrimp, octopus or fish. We choose fish. He’s off to get our starters and we continue reading the menu.

I read two words (actually 4 in Spanish) shrimp and garlic. That makes it an easy decision for me. Tracy is found of rellaneos, usually breaded and fried peppers stuffed with all kinds of goodies. Looking at the menu, we were not sure stuffed with what, so we tried to ask.

Both are pork, but one was jowls and the other intestine. Let’s go with the jowls.

Drinks and ceviche arrive - yum! Fish, diced onions “cooked” in a vinaigrette. Perfect.

Large shrimp with heads on sauteed in garlic and butter. So simple, so good.

The rellaneos are four small roasted red peppers cleaned and peeled. Stuffed and smothered with pork. Very good, but not what we are used to.

The gringos speak as they are leaving, acknowledging Tracy as the fisherman from today on the beach.

Dessert, no thank you, but they do have a cheese plate. In Panama ? Why not.
It is supposed to be 5 cheeses but our server tells us they have only 3. It’s ok, we will still try it. I think they only have 2 ( brie and manchego) but they put enough on the plate, that we took some home for a pupu platter the next afternoon. All in all, a nice evening out.

Back to Las Sirenas #11.