A couple of years ago, I was looking for some easy and inexpensive beef recipes. Being a home-school mom for our family means one income and not as much time as I'd like for meal prep. I was cruising Pinterest.com and found this pinned by Elizabeth Bryant from her blog:
I was kinda iffy since I'm not exactly an adventure eater, but I decided to try it. Oh. My. Yumness! This is awesome! And easy! And delish! You get the idea.
A few friends have asked for the recipe after seeing my pic of it on FB and Instagram. I decided the easiest way to get this recipe out to the masses was a blog post. So, here ya have it.
Korean Beef
1 pound lean ground beef (the leaner, the better)
1/2 cup brown sugar (If you don't like sweet, this can be cut back to 1/4 cup.)
1/4 cup soy sauce (low-sodium)
1 Tablespoon sesame oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 teaspoon fresh ginger, minced (see note)
1/2 - 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes, to desired spiciness (I use 1/4 tsp.)
salt and pepper
1 bunch green onions, diced (Required!!!!)
Heat a large skillet over medium heat, and brown hamburger with garlic in the sesame oil. Drain most of the fat, and add brown sugar, soy sauce, ginger, salt, pepper, and red peppers. Simmer for a few minutes to blend the flavors. Serve over steamed sticky rice, and top with green onions.
Note: I always forget to buy fresh ginger, so I use 1/4 tsp ground ginger instead. I know, that's cheating, but there it is.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Where's Jack Frost When I Need Him?!
I am sooooo looking forward to cold weather after our scorching summer. The weather is finally fallish. All that really means is that temps are finally, amazingly, consistently below 98*. However, this gives me hope that cooler days are just around the calendar corner. It also reassures me that I didn't dream last winter. Maybe I WILL be able to wear the new boots I got and will stop sweating at the thought.
One of the things I really enjoy about the days getting cooler is that I get to cook stuff that it's just too darn hot to cook the rest of the time. Desserts, casseroles, basically anything requiring the use of my oven, these things are all taboo in the sweltering Deep South between May and October.
One of the things I really enjoy about the days getting cooler is that I get to cook stuff that it's just too darn hot to cook the rest of the time. Desserts, casseroles, basically anything requiring the use of my oven, these things are all taboo in the sweltering Deep South between May and October.
One of my new loves, thanks to Pinterest, is breakfast. My DH loves oatmeal or eggs, but is somewhat of a purist. My DS tries to be picky and so prefers sugary cereal. They want familiar tastes and textures but also ask for variety. Hmm. Soooooo, I am trying to mix up the menu by adding exciting new recipes to the tried and true collection. I found this amazing one for Baked Pumpkin Pie Oatmeal over at Budget Bytes. There are !17! more delish ideas over there. Another great one is banana oatmeal muffins from Keeping Up With the Joneses. Oh. My. Yumness.
There are a couple of recipes that I have yet to try, but they look incredible. These breakfast cookies from wisebread.com, these strawberry muffins from the Gluten Free Goddess, and this Berrylicious Muffin goodness shared by meemo88 on myfitnesspal.com are queued and waiting. When I give them a whirl, I'll let you know how yummy they are. :)
Now, I'm for bed. I'm helping with Toddler Worship in the morning. I foresee lots of potty trips, and I need to be rested for this. lol
Pumpkin Pie Oatmeal |
Banana Oatmeal Muffins |
Breakfast Cookies |
Strawberry Muffins |
1-Minute Berrylicious Microwave Muffin |
Now, I'm for bed. I'm helping with Toddler Worship in the morning. I foresee lots of potty trips, and I need to be rested for this. lol
Monday, May 28, 2012
I heard a portion of this quoted last night and had to find it since it was so convicting and encouraging to me. Enjoy!
An address delivered by B. B. Warfield at Princeton Theological Seminary, October 4, 1911. (Abridged)
I am asked to speak to you on the religious life of the student of theology. It is the most important subject which can engage our thought.
1. Spiritual and Intellectual Fitness
This is not to depreciate the importance of the intellectual preparation of the student for the ministry. The importance of the intellectual preparation of the student for the ministry is the reason of the existence of our Theological Colleges. Say what you will, do what you will, the ministry is a “learned profession”. The man without learning, no matter with what other gifts he may be endowed, is unfit for its duties. The minister must be “apt to teach.” Not apt merely to exhort, to beseech, to appeal, to entreat; not even merely, to testify, to bear witness; but to teach. And teaching implies knowledge: he who teaches must know. But aptness to teach alone does not make a minister; nor is it his primary qualification. It is only one of a long list of requirements which Paul lays down as necessary to meet in him who aspires to this high office. And all the rest concern, not his intellectual, but his spiritual fitness. A minister must be learned, on pain of being utterly incompetent for his work. But before and above being learned, a minister must be godly. Nothing could be more fatal, however, than to set these two things over against one another. Recruiting officers do not dispute whether it is better for soldiers to have a right leg or a left leg: soldiers should have both legs.
Sometimes we hear it said that ten minutes on your knees will give you a truer, deeper, more operative knowledge of God than ten hours over your books. But why should you turn from God when you turn to your books, or feel that you must turn from your books in order to turn to God?What an absurd antithesis! There can be no “either— or” here (either a student or a man of God). You must be both. Religion does not take a man away from his work; it sends him to his work with an added quality of devotion.
2. Importance of a Sense of “Vocation”
But the doctrine is the same, and it is the doctrine, the fundamental doctrine, of Protestant morality. It is the great doctrine of “vocation,” the doctrine, to wit, that the best service we can offer to God is just to do our duty—our plain, homely duty, whatever that may chance to be. The Middle Ages did not think so. They cut a cleft between the religious and the secular life, and counselled him who wished to be religious to turn his back on what they called “the world”— not the wickedness that is in the world, but the work-a-day world, the occupations which form the daily task of men and women. Protestantism put an end to all that. Then Luther came, and, with still more consistency, Calvin, proclaiming the great idea of “vocation.” “Vocation”—it is the call of God, addressed to every man, whoever he may be, to lay upon him a particular work, no matter what. And the calls, and therefore also the called, stand on a complete equality with one another. The burgomaster is God’s burgomaster; the physician is God’s physician; the merchant is God’s merchant; the labourer is God’s labourer. Every vocation, liberal, as we call it, or manual, the humblest and the vilest in appearance as truly as the noblest and the most glorious, is of divine right.
Talk of the divine right of kings! Here is the divine right of every workman, no one of whom needs to be ashamed, if only he is an honest and good workman. “Only laziness is ignoble, and while Romanism multiplies its mendicant orders, the Reformation banishes the idle from its towns.”
3. The Significance of Diligence in Study
Now, as students of theology, your vocation is to study theology; and to study it diligently, in accordance with the apostolic injunction: “Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord.” It is precisely for this that you are students of theology; this is your “next duty.” Dr. Charles Hodge tells of Philip Lindsay, the most popular professor in the Princeton College of his day, that “he told our class that we would find that one of the best preparations for death was a thorough knowledge of the Greek grammar.” “This,” comments Dr. Hodge in his quaint fashion, “was his way of telling us that we ought to do our duty.” Certainly, every man who aspires to be a religious man must begin by doing his duty, his obvious duty, his daily task, the particular work which lies before him to do at this particular time and place. If this work happens to be studying, then his religious life depends on nothing more fundamentally than on just studying.
You may think of your studies what you please. You may consider them as servile labour and the meanest work. But you must faithfully give yourselves to them, if you wish to be religious men. No religious character can be built up on the foundation of neglected duty.
4. Study as Worship
There is certainly something wrong with the religious life of a theological student who does not study. But it does not quite follow that therefore everything is right with his religious life if he does study. It is possible to study—even to study theology—in an entirely secular spirit. In all its branches alike, theology has as its unique end to make God known. The student of theology is brought by his daily task into the presence of God, and is kept there. Can a religious man stand in the presence of God, and not worship? Surely that is
possible only for an irreligious man, or at least for an unreligious man.
5. Examine yourself
Here I place in your hands at once a touchstone by which you may discern your religious state, and an instrument for the quickening of your religious life. Do you prosecute your daily tasks as students of theology as “religious exercises”? If you do not, look to yourselves: it is surely not all right with the spiritual condition of that man who can busy himself daily with divine things, with a cold and impassive heart. If you do, rejoice.
But in any case, see that you do! And that you do it ever more and more abundantly. Whatever you may have done in the past, for the future make all your theological studies “religious exercises.” This is the great rule for a rich and wholesome religious life in a theological student. Put your heart into your studies; do not merely occupy your mind with them, but put your heart into them. They bring you daily and hourly into the very presence of God; his ways, his dealing with men, the infinite majesty of his Being form their very subject matter.
Put the shoes from off your feet in this holy presence!
6. Familiarity breeds contempt?
We are frequently told, though, that the great danger of the theological student lies precisely in his constant contact with divine things. The words which tell you of God’s terrible majesty or of his glorious goodness may come to be mere words to you—Hebrew and Greek words, with etymologies, and inflections, and connections in sentences. The reasonings which establish to you the mysteries of his saving activities may come to be to you mere logical paradigms, with no further significance to you than their formal logical conclusiveness. God’s stately steppings in his redemptive processes may become to you a mere series of facts of history.
It is your great danger. But it is your great danger, only because it is your great privilege. Think of what your privilege is when your greatest danger is that the great things of religion may become common to you!
Other men, distracted by the dreadful drag of the world upon them and the awful rush of the world’s work, find it hard to get time and opportunity so much as to pause and consider whether there be such things as God, and religion, and salvation from the sin that compasses them about and holds them captive.
The very atmosphere of your life is these things; you breathe them in at every pore; they surround you, encompass you, press in upon you from every side. It is all in danger of becoming common to you! God forgive you, you are in danger of becoming weary of God!
Let us turn the question—are you alive to what your privileges are? Are you making full use of them? Are you, by this constant contact with divine things, growing in holiness, becoming every day more and more men of God? You will never prosper in your religious life in the Theological College until your study becomes a religious exercise out of which you draw every day enlargement of heart, elevation of spirit, and adoring delight in your Maker and your Saviour.
7. Importance of Religious Community
There are other religious exercises demanding your punctual attention which cannot be neglected. I refer particular now to the stated formal religious meetings of the College. No man can withdraw himself from the stated religious services of the community of which he is a member, without serious injury to his personal religious life.
The apostolic writer exhorts “to forsake not the assembling of ourselves together.” He has in mind the stated, formal assemblages of the community, and lays upon the hearts and consciences of his readers their duty to themselves. When he adds, “As the custom of some is,” he puts a lash into his command. We can see his lip curl as he says it. Who are these people, who are so vastly strong, so supremely holy, that they do not need the assistance of the common worship for themselves; and who, being so strong and holy, will not give their assistance to the common worship? I trust you will not tell me that the stated religious exercises of the College are too numerous, or are wearying. That would only be to betray the low ebb of your own religious vitality.
Some students do not find themselves in a prayerful mood in the early hours of a winter morning; and are much too tired at the close of a hard day’s work to pray. They think the preaching of the Sabbath morning dull and uninteresting, and they do not find Christ at the Sabbath afternoon conference. Such things I seem to have heard before; and yours will be an exceptional pastorate, if you do no hear something very like them, before you have been in a pastorate six months. Such things meet you every day on the street. They are the ordinary expression of the heart which is dulled or is dulling to the religious appeal.
Let me tell you straight-out that the preaching you find dull will no more seem dull to you if you faithfully obey the Master’s precept: “Take heed how you hear.” If there is no fire in the pulpit, it falls to you to kindle it in the pews. No man can fail to meet with God in the sanctuary if he takes God there with him.
How easy it is to roll the blame of our cold hearts over upon the shoulders of our religious leaders! It is refreshing to observe how Luther dealt with complaints of lack of attractiveness in his evangelical preachers. He had not sent them out to please people, he said, and their function was not to interest or to entertain. Their function was to teach the saving truth of God. If they did that, it was frivolous for people in danger of perishing for want of the truth to object to the vessel in which it was offered to them. “People cannot have their ministers exactly as they wish,” he declares. “They should thank God for the pure word,” and not demand St. Augustines and St. Ambroses to preach it to them. If a pastor pleases the Lord Jesus and is faithful to him—there is none so great and mighty but he ought to be pleased with him, too. But why should we appeal to Luther? Have we not the example of our Lord Jesus Christ? Are we better than he? Surely, if ever there was one who might justly plead that the common worship of the community had nothing to offer him it was the Lord Jesus Christ.
But every Sabbath found him seated in his place among the worshiping people, and there was no act of stated worship which he felt himself entitled to discard. Returning from that great baptismal scene, from the searching trials of the wilderness, and from that first great tour in Galilee, he came back, as the record tells, “to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and”—so proceeds the amazing narrative— “he entered, as his custom was, into the synagogue, on the Sabbath day.” “As his custom was!” Jesus Christ made it his habitual practice to be found in his place on the Sabbath day at the stated place of worship to which he belonged. Is it necessary for me to exhort those who would be like Christ, to see to it that they are imitators of him in this?
8. Private religious exercises
But not even with the most assiduous use of the corporate expressions of the religious life of the community have you reached the foundation-stone of your piety. This is to be found in your closets, or rather in your hearts, in your private religious exercises, and in your intimate religious aspirations.
9. The Greatness of Your Calling
One hint I may give you, particularly adapted to you as students for the ministry: Keep always before your mind the greatness of your calling, that is to say, these two things: the immensity of the task before you, the infinitude of the resources at your disposal.
If we face the tremendous difficulty of the work before us, it will throw us back upon our knees; and if we worthily gauge the power of the gospel committed to us, that will keep us on our knees.
10. Seriousness of your Calling
In a time like this, careful observers of the life of our Colleges tell us that the most noticeable thing about it is a certain falling off from the intense seriousness of outlook by which students of theology were formerly characterized. So far as it is true, it is a great evil.
I would call you back to this seriousness of outlook, and bid you cultivate it, if you would be men of God now, and ministers who need not be ashamed hereafter.
Think of the greatness of the minister’s calling; the greatness of the issues which hang on your worthiness or your unworthiness for its high functions; and determine once for all that with God’s help you will be worthy.
“God had but one Son,” says Thomas Goodwin, “and he made him a minister.” “None but he who made the world,” says John Newton, “can make a minister”—that is, a minister who is worthy.
11. Beware of being a Castaway
You can, of course, be a minister of a sort, and not be God-made. You can go through the motions of the work, and I shall not say that your work will be in vain—for God is good and who knows by what instruments he may work his will of good for men? What does Paul mean when he utters that terrible warning: “Lest when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway?” And there is an even more dreadful contingency. It is our Saviour himself who tells us that it is possible to compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when we have made him to make him twofold more a child of hell than we are ourselves.
Will we not be in awful peril of making our proselytes children of hell if we are not ourselves children of heaven? There is no mistake more terrible than to suppose that activity in Christian work can take the place of depth of Christian affections.
Activity, of course, is good. In the cause of the Lord we should run and not be weary—but not as a substitute for inner religious strength.
In the tendencies of our modern life, which all make for ceaseless activity, have a care that it does not become your case. Do you pray? How much do you pray? How much do you love to pray? What place in your life does the “still hour,” alone with God, take? I am sure that if you once get a true glimpse of what the ministry of the cross is, and of what you, as men preparing for this ministry, should be, you will pray, “Lord, who is sufficient for these things?” Your heart will cry, “Lord, make me sufficient for these things.”
12. Angels Preparing to Sound the Trumpets
Old Cotton Mather wrote a great little book once, to serve as a guide to students for the ministry. The not very happy title which he gave it is Manductio ad Ministerium. But by a stroke of genius he added a sub-title which is more significant: The angels preparing to sound the trumpets!
That is what Cotton Mather calls you students for the ministry: the angels, preparing to sound the trumpets! Take the name to yourselves, and live up to it. Give your days and nights to living up to it! And then, perhaps, when you come to sound the trumpets the note will be pure and clear and strong, and perchance may pierce even to the grave and wake the dead.
Taken from Western Reformed Seminary Journal 8/2, August
2001, 23–27. Used by permission. Modifications and headings
added by J. C. Hood, Presbyterian Theological College, Victoria,
2009.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Hair Care
9/28/11
Ok, I'm just going to say it. Here goes. I'm really going to say it now. Don't freak! Ok. *deep breath* Right. I-haven't-shampooed-my-hair-in-10-days! Wow. That wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Now, before you get completely grossed out, I have been cleaning my hair, just not with shampoo, etc.
Ok, I'm just going to say it. Here goes. I'm really going to say it now. Don't freak! Ok. *deep breath* Right. I-haven't-shampooed-my-hair-in-10-days! Wow. That wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Now, before you get completely grossed out, I have been cleaning my hair, just not with shampoo, etc.
Let me back up a bit. The last few months, I've been researching better ways to care for my hair and face. All of these nasty chemicals they sell us CANNOT be healthy or safe. Plus, I'm too cheap to keep shelling out loads of cash for stuff that isn't working well.
Anyway, I decided that God had to have created stuff that is better in all ways. In my searching, I came across this post by a lady named Quinn on her blog, onjustacoupleacres.blogspot.com. She posted pics of her hair before she started her new routine, then at 3 weeks, and again at 9 weeks. It just kept getting prettier and curlier.
Are you ready for the secret? Baking soda. Yep, that's right, the stuff we use to keep our fridges from being stinky. You can use it 2 ways. 1) Mix it with water, pour the mix over your hair, then rinse. 2) Wet your hair, work a handful of the dry soda into your scalp and hair, then rinse. Either method is fine.
Oh, my gosh! My hair is so soft, smells so great, and seems healthier than it has in years. I am convinced. The baking soda cleans without stripping the healthy oils. That's right. No conditioner needed! Oh yeah, baby. Mama's got a new love!!!!
BTW, feel free to sniff my head when you see me next. :)
5/28/12
Okay, ladies. After 8 months, I thought it was probably time for an update on my green (environmentally-friendly, not green hair) hair cleaning trial.
First, let me say, I love what the baking soda does. It removes the grossness, but leaves the healthy behind. My hair's not frizzy anymore. After the BS (baking soda) rinse, my hair is clean and smells clean. I like that.
Second, I DO NOT LIKE THE SMELL OF VINEGAR! This includes anything you can call to mind. The ACV (apple cider vinegar) rinse did wonders for my hair, but I couldn't stand the smell. Yes, the smell went away when my hair was dry. However, those who know me know that I am currently in menopause. This translates to lots of sweat from hot flashes. I "enjoy" my own personal summer frequently. Because of these frequent and rapid seasonal changes inside me, my hair is wet a lot. Read: I smelled like vinegar. Grrrr!
Obviously, more research was needed. I have now found that a nickel-sized drop of conditioner is all I need twice a week. That's it. "I've said my piece and counted to three."
5/28/12
Okay, ladies. After 8 months, I thought it was probably time for an update on my green (environmentally-friendly, not green hair) hair cleaning trial.
First, let me say, I love what the baking soda does. It removes the grossness, but leaves the healthy behind. My hair's not frizzy anymore. After the BS (baking soda) rinse, my hair is clean and smells clean. I like that.
Second, I DO NOT LIKE THE SMELL OF VINEGAR! This includes anything you can call to mind. The ACV (apple cider vinegar) rinse did wonders for my hair, but I couldn't stand the smell. Yes, the smell went away when my hair was dry. However, those who know me know that I am currently in menopause. This translates to lots of sweat from hot flashes. I "enjoy" my own personal summer frequently. Because of these frequent and rapid seasonal changes inside me, my hair is wet a lot. Read: I smelled like vinegar. Grrrr!
Obviously, more research was needed. I have now found that a nickel-sized drop of conditioner is all I need twice a week. That's it. "I've said my piece and counted to three."
Thursday, September 22, 2011
My Soapbox
I don't really have a name for this post. I can't settle on any one emotion enough to choose. I was just reading the post a friend of mine wrote about the 4th of July on her blog. I thought back to hanging with her family at American Village that day, and how special that day is every year to our family. You see, my Dad was in the Navy during Vietnam; his brother, my uncle, was in the Army. My Pawpaw's brother was in the Army during Korea. My husband is a Marine, and so is our son; my father-in-law was in the Army. I could go on and on. Suffice it to say, there are strong traditions of military service in all the branches of our family tree. Our love for our country runs very deep.
That is why I will never understand why parents do not teach their children. It's not the school's responsibility to train our kids to look up to and respect these men who have sacrificed so much and would have given more had it been asked of them. When they reach school-age, our babies should already know the Pledge of Allegiance and how to put their little hands over their hearts. They should thank the military people they run into at the store or the gas station. These children are not born knowing to be respectful, to be thankful, to be appreciative; they are taught...or not.
Unless and until these families lose someone in the service of God and country, they will never know how it breaks our hearts when people are afraid of our guys because of their experiences, suffered on behalf of their fellow Americans. Most people will never know what it costs us as their wives to watch our strong husbands struggle to readjust and then to see them have to accept that they will never be the same men they were before. I hate that my husband, who was willing to kill and to die for these people, has to stand and watch them giggle and joke during our national anthem.
Unless and until these families lose someone in the service of God and country, they will never know how it breaks our hearts when people are afraid of our guys because of their experiences, suffered on behalf of their fellow Americans. Most people will never know what it costs us as their wives to watch our strong husbands struggle to readjust and then to see them have to accept that they will never be the same men they were before. I hate that my husband, who was willing to kill and to die for these people, has to stand and watch them giggle and joke during our national anthem.
You can insult me, make fun of me, whatever. I can handle it because I really don't care what you think of me. But, please, please, do not EVER make the mistake of insulting my husband, his fallen friends, or our country. For that, I will get ugly. I have absolutely no problem telling you to get up off your ungrateful behind and shut your mouth during the Stars and Stripes. The reason you have the right to be disrespectful is because of our military and their extreme sacrifices. Let me be very clear on this, just because you have the right to do something does not make it acceptable for you to do it. Our guys also have rights. One of them is the right to be respected.
Now, I've said my piece and counted to three. And that's all I have to say about that.
Monday, August 29, 2011
From My Sister
Let's become little old ladies together-
we'll stay up late looking at photo albums,
telling 'remember when' stories,
and laughing until our sides ache.
Let's become eccentric together-
we'll be the kind of old ladies who wear silly hats
and get away with behaving badly in public places.
And if anybody should ask how long we've been friends,
we'll say, 'Oh, forever- since before you were even born!'
Let's become little old ladies together-
because a friendship like ours
can only grow better through the years.
Jennifer Fujita
Kiki, you started our bond by being my very own Baby Crissy doll. You were my very first best friend, and you always will be. I love you!
we'll stay up late looking at photo albums,
telling 'remember when' stories,
and laughing until our sides ache.
Let's become eccentric together-
we'll be the kind of old ladies who wear silly hats
and get away with behaving badly in public places.
And if anybody should ask how long we've been friends,
we'll say, 'Oh, forever- since before you were even born!'
Let's become little old ladies together-
because a friendship like ours
can only grow better through the years.
Jennifer Fujita
Kiki, you started our bond by being my very own Baby Crissy doll. You were my very first best friend, and you always will be. I love you!
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Wild and Free Pigs of the Okefenokee Swamp
Wild Hogs
Some years ago, about 1900, an old trapper from North Dakota hitched up some horses to his Studebaker wagon, packed a few possessions -- especially his traps -- and drove south. Several weeks later he stopped in a small town just north of the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia. It was a Saturday morning -- a lazy day -- when he walked into the general store. Sitting around the pot-bellied stove were seven or eight of the town's local citizens.
The traveler spoke. "Gentlemen, could you direct me to the Okefenokee Swamp?" Some of the oldtimers looked at him like he was crazy. "You must be a stranger in these parts," they said. "I am. I'm from North Dakota," said the stranger. "In the Okefenokee Swamp are thousands of wild hogs." one old man explained. "A man who goes into the swamp by himself asks to die!" He lifted up his leg. "I lost half my leg here, to the pigs of the swamp." Another old fellow said, "Look at the cuts on me; look at my arm bit off! Those pigs have been free since the Revolution, eating snakes and rooting out roots and fending for themselves for over a hundred years. They're wild and they're dangerous. You can't trap them. No man dare go into the swamp by himself." Every man nodded his head in agreement.
The old trapper said, "Thank you so much for the warning. Now could you direct me to the swamp?" They said, "Well, yeah, it's due south -- straight down the road." But they begged the stranger not to go, because they knew he'd meet a terrible fate. He said, "Sell me ten sacks of corn, and help me load it in the wagon." And they did. Then the old trapper bid them farewell and drove on down the road. The townsfolk thought they'd never see him again. Two weeks later the man came back. He pulled up to the general store, got down off the wagon, walked in and bought ten more sacks of corn. After loading it up he went back down the road toward the swamp.
Two weeks later he returned and again bought ten sacks of corn. This went on for a month. And then two months, and three. Every week or two the old trapper would come into town on a Saturday morning, load up ten sacks of corn, and drive off south into the swamp. The stranger soon became a legend in the little village and the subject of much speculation. People wondered what kind of devil had possessed this man, that he could go into the Okefenokee by himself and not be consumed by the wild and free hogs.
One morning the man came into town as usual. Everyone thought he wanted more corn. He got off the wagon and went into the store where the usual group of men were gathered around the stove. He took off his gloves. "Gentlemen," he said, "I need to hire about ten or fifteen wagons. I need twenty or thirty men. I have six thousand hogs out in the swamp, penned up, and they're all hungry. I've got to get them to market right away." "You've WHAT in the swamp?" asked the storekeeper, incredulously. "I have six thousand hogs penned up. They haven't eaten for two or three days, and they'll starve if I don't get back there to feed and take care of them."
One of the oldtimers said, "You mean you've captured the wild hogs of the Okefenokee?" "That's right." "How did you do that? What did you do?" the men urged, breathlessly. One of them exclaimed, "But I lost my arm!" "I lost my brother!" cried another. "I lost my leg to those wild boars!" chimed a third. The trapper said, "Well, the first week I went in there they were wild all right. They hid in the undergrowth and wouldn't come out. I dared not get off the wagon. So I spread corn along behind the wagon. Every day I'd spread a sack of corn. The old pigs would have nothing to do with it."
"But the younger pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn than it was to root out roots and catch snakes. So the very young began to eat the corn first. I did this every day. Pretty soon, even the old pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn. After all, they were all free; they were not penned up. They could run off in any direction they wanted at any time."
"The next thing was to get them used to eating in the same place all the time. So I selected a clearing, and I started putting the corn in the clearing. At first they wouldn't come to the clearing. It was too far. It was too open. It was a nuisance to them." "But the very young decided that it was easier to take the corn in the clearing than it was to root out roots and catch their own snakes. And not long thereafter, the older pigs also decided that it was easier to come to the clearing every day."
"And so the pigs learned to come to the clearing every day to get their free corn. They could still subsidize their diet with roots and snakes and whatever else they wanted. After all, they were all free. They could run in any direction at any time. There were no bounds upon them." "The next step was to get them used to fence posts. So I put fence posts all the way around the clearing. I put them in the underbrush so that they wouldn't get suspicious or upset. After all, they were just sticks sticking up out of the ground, like the trees and the brush. The corn was there every day. It was easy to walk in between the posts, get the corn, and walk back out."
"This went on for a week or two. Shortly they became very used to walking into the clearing, getting the free corn, and walking back out through the fence posts." "The next step was to put one rail down at the bottom. I also left a few openings, so that the older, fatter pigs could walk through the openings and the younger pigs could easily jump over just one rail. After all, it was no real threat to their freedom or independence. They could always jump over the rail and flee in any direction at any time."
"Now I decided that I wouldn't feed them every day. I began to feed them every other day. On the days I didn't feed them the pigs still gathered in the clearing. They squealed, and they grunted, and they begged and pleaded with me to feed them. But I only fed them every other day. And I put a second rail around the posts." "Now the pigs became more and more desperate for food. Because now they were no longer used to going out and digging their own roots and finding their own food. They now needed me. They needed my corn every other day. So I trained them that I would feed them every day if they came in through a gate. And I put up a third rail around the fence. But it was still no great threat to their freedom, because there were several gates and they could run in and out at will."
"Finally I put up the fourth rail. Then I closed all the gates but one, and I fed them very, very well. Yesterday I closed the last gate. And today I need you to help me take these pigs to market." -- end of story -- The price of free corn The allegory of the pigs has a serious moral lesson. This story is about federal money being used to bait, trap and enslave a once free and independent people. Federal welfare, in its myriad forms, has reduced not only individuals to a state of dependency. State and local governments are also on the fast track to elimination, due to their functions being subverted by the command and control structures of federal "revenue sharing" programs.
Some years ago, about 1900, an old trapper from North Dakota hitched up some horses to his Studebaker wagon, packed a few possessions -- especially his traps -- and drove south. Several weeks later he stopped in a small town just north of the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia. It was a Saturday morning -- a lazy day -- when he walked into the general store. Sitting around the pot-bellied stove were seven or eight of the town's local citizens.
The traveler spoke. "Gentlemen, could you direct me to the Okefenokee Swamp?" Some of the oldtimers looked at him like he was crazy. "You must be a stranger in these parts," they said. "I am. I'm from North Dakota," said the stranger. "In the Okefenokee Swamp are thousands of wild hogs." one old man explained. "A man who goes into the swamp by himself asks to die!" He lifted up his leg. "I lost half my leg here, to the pigs of the swamp." Another old fellow said, "Look at the cuts on me; look at my arm bit off! Those pigs have been free since the Revolution, eating snakes and rooting out roots and fending for themselves for over a hundred years. They're wild and they're dangerous. You can't trap them. No man dare go into the swamp by himself." Every man nodded his head in agreement.
The old trapper said, "Thank you so much for the warning. Now could you direct me to the swamp?" They said, "Well, yeah, it's due south -- straight down the road." But they begged the stranger not to go, because they knew he'd meet a terrible fate. He said, "Sell me ten sacks of corn, and help me load it in the wagon." And they did. Then the old trapper bid them farewell and drove on down the road. The townsfolk thought they'd never see him again. Two weeks later the man came back. He pulled up to the general store, got down off the wagon, walked in and bought ten more sacks of corn. After loading it up he went back down the road toward the swamp.
Two weeks later he returned and again bought ten sacks of corn. This went on for a month. And then two months, and three. Every week or two the old trapper would come into town on a Saturday morning, load up ten sacks of corn, and drive off south into the swamp. The stranger soon became a legend in the little village and the subject of much speculation. People wondered what kind of devil had possessed this man, that he could go into the Okefenokee by himself and not be consumed by the wild and free hogs.
One morning the man came into town as usual. Everyone thought he wanted more corn. He got off the wagon and went into the store where the usual group of men were gathered around the stove. He took off his gloves. "Gentlemen," he said, "I need to hire about ten or fifteen wagons. I need twenty or thirty men. I have six thousand hogs out in the swamp, penned up, and they're all hungry. I've got to get them to market right away." "You've WHAT in the swamp?" asked the storekeeper, incredulously. "I have six thousand hogs penned up. They haven't eaten for two or three days, and they'll starve if I don't get back there to feed and take care of them."
One of the oldtimers said, "You mean you've captured the wild hogs of the Okefenokee?" "That's right." "How did you do that? What did you do?" the men urged, breathlessly. One of them exclaimed, "But I lost my arm!" "I lost my brother!" cried another. "I lost my leg to those wild boars!" chimed a third. The trapper said, "Well, the first week I went in there they were wild all right. They hid in the undergrowth and wouldn't come out. I dared not get off the wagon. So I spread corn along behind the wagon. Every day I'd spread a sack of corn. The old pigs would have nothing to do with it."
"But the younger pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn than it was to root out roots and catch snakes. So the very young began to eat the corn first. I did this every day. Pretty soon, even the old pigs decided that it was easier to eat free corn. After all, they were all free; they were not penned up. They could run off in any direction they wanted at any time."
"The next thing was to get them used to eating in the same place all the time. So I selected a clearing, and I started putting the corn in the clearing. At first they wouldn't come to the clearing. It was too far. It was too open. It was a nuisance to them." "But the very young decided that it was easier to take the corn in the clearing than it was to root out roots and catch their own snakes. And not long thereafter, the older pigs also decided that it was easier to come to the clearing every day."
"And so the pigs learned to come to the clearing every day to get their free corn. They could still subsidize their diet with roots and snakes and whatever else they wanted. After all, they were all free. They could run in any direction at any time. There were no bounds upon them." "The next step was to get them used to fence posts. So I put fence posts all the way around the clearing. I put them in the underbrush so that they wouldn't get suspicious or upset. After all, they were just sticks sticking up out of the ground, like the trees and the brush. The corn was there every day. It was easy to walk in between the posts, get the corn, and walk back out."
"This went on for a week or two. Shortly they became very used to walking into the clearing, getting the free corn, and walking back out through the fence posts." "The next step was to put one rail down at the bottom. I also left a few openings, so that the older, fatter pigs could walk through the openings and the younger pigs could easily jump over just one rail. After all, it was no real threat to their freedom or independence. They could always jump over the rail and flee in any direction at any time."
"Now I decided that I wouldn't feed them every day. I began to feed them every other day. On the days I didn't feed them the pigs still gathered in the clearing. They squealed, and they grunted, and they begged and pleaded with me to feed them. But I only fed them every other day. And I put a second rail around the posts." "Now the pigs became more and more desperate for food. Because now they were no longer used to going out and digging their own roots and finding their own food. They now needed me. They needed my corn every other day. So I trained them that I would feed them every day if they came in through a gate. And I put up a third rail around the fence. But it was still no great threat to their freedom, because there were several gates and they could run in and out at will."
"Finally I put up the fourth rail. Then I closed all the gates but one, and I fed them very, very well. Yesterday I closed the last gate. And today I need you to help me take these pigs to market." -- end of story -- The price of free corn The allegory of the pigs has a serious moral lesson. This story is about federal money being used to bait, trap and enslave a once free and independent people. Federal welfare, in its myriad forms, has reduced not only individuals to a state of dependency. State and local governments are also on the fast track to elimination, due to their functions being subverted by the command and control structures of federal "revenue sharing" programs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)