June 5 , 2008

It seems hard to believe, but it has been one year.
Ok, according to the date on top of this page it has been one year and two days. That is how long I have been back at the Clay City Times. To me it does not seem like it has been a year. For some of you, especially frequent court “visitors” and some politicians it may seem longer. But overall, it has been quite a ride.
I was a little hesitant at first, but I knew that if I followed what God wanted for me and took on the “community first” attitude, then it would be all right. Little did I know I would be involved in the extremes we have seen this past year?
Just over a week into my return to the paper we suffered a huge loss with the death of Chief Randy Lacy. I saw the hurt and shock this small town, “my hometown”, suffered. Then I witnessed an awakening unlike any other I have seen here. People pulled together, they wanted changes. So the police and courts have accommodated them. The county showed the rest of the state and the world what we already knew – we pull together and take care of our own. That is evident by the outpouring of love the Lacy family has received from “my hometown.”
I have also witnessed the good in this county. How about the ministerial association continuing their work on the drug task force, the schools working hard to produce great young men and women to help lead us forward into the future and the revival of some pride in our community.
We have seen the rebirth of the Clay City Ice Cream Social and hopefully soon the Fourth of July Celebration. I have had a chance to take part in events like Patriot Days, the Miss Powell County Pageant (and I do believe we have the most talented and beautiful girls in the state), the Corn Festival (heat and all, but a lot of fun) and the Pedals & Bloom Festival.
The Christmas Parade in Clay City was fun, as was the basketball season, football season, volleyball, baseball, track and of course, softball season. The district tournament, the regional tournament and all the youth events are always a blast in “my hometown.”
I consider myself very lucky to live in this community. Regardless of what others from nearby communities may say, we live in a great place. Sure we have our problems and you have read about some of that right here in the paper. But one thing I wanted to do was show all sides of Powell County, good and bad, so you know what is going on in our hometown. That is why I try to make sure each week there is a good story on the front page to counter the bad news and money woes. Not all news is bad and we have too many hidden treasures here we can let you know about.
I have had the fortune of getting to know and then mourning the loss of many new friends like Wayne Randall and Floyd Clay Anderson; and then missing those I knew years ago like Nellie Meadows and Charlie Smith. But I have also got to meet so many new people and so many of you have been so kind to me, I could not do any justice by trying to name all of you, for fear I would miss someone and I would hate to do that.
I have found a family here at the Times with Dave, Mary, Kendra (when she was with us and I still consider her a friend) and of course the person who keeps me out of trouble the most, Sarah. At the Irvine office Rhonda, Angela, Teresa, Megan, Cheryl, Angelia and Kayla have been lifesavers. But Tish is the one that makes sure I do it right and I appreciate her, as I do all of staff, more than they know. Without my Times family and Irvine friends, I could not do the job the way you the reader deserves to have it done. So I thank them for their help.
But I want to also thank all of you,the people who help me. Those who give us information, keep us informed, send us pictures, articles and make sure that the community is kept up to speed on happenings. There is so much that you, the community, have helped me with that is why I tell you all that this is YOUR HOMETOWN NEWSPAPER. I appreciate you, the reader because without you, where would I be?
You may have noticed several times I have written “my hometown.” I was not born here, but have lived here for 30 years this summer. But the way this community has welcomed me in and treated me like one of its own, I truly consider this to be my HOMETOWN too!
So I hope you have liked some of the changes we have made over the past year and the changes we may make soon. If you have any ideas, let me know. Tell me what you think and what you like. Because after all, our job is to keep you informed and I love doing that. So thank you for a great year back and I look forward to many more.
We could focus on negative things and bad news. But there is too much good here and that is why I enjoying being back in “my hometown.”
I’m just saying . . .

View from the Mountain...
Wild strawberry shortcake
By David G. Griffin, Times Reporter

When my brother Al was about eight or nine years old, he was in the local 4-H Club in Rockcastle County. He recently reminded me of the story of his first job, raising strawberries – I was not even alive at the time.
Bob Spence, the county extension agent, came to the school to inform students about strawberries and to provide plants for the 4-H Club members. Parents were also present at the meeting to make sure that the club members knew exactly what to do with their “berry projects.” According to Al, “The students were sitting in the school desks, and the fathers were lined around the room.”
Spence called each member’s name and then asked if that child wanted a quarter-acre or an eighth-acre. When he came to Al, he again repeated the question. Because he didn’t want to take on more than he thought he could take care of, Al simply answered, “I think I want an eighth.”
From the back of the room came an immediate loud remark from our Dad (Hobe Griffin), “Son, you can’t handle an eighth! Give him a quarter-acre.” Albert was so embarrassed that he wanted to crawl under his desk. Not wanting to call any further attention to himself, he simply took his quarter-acre of plants and went home.
Al read all of the information provided concerning the berry project and planted them on our small farm. My mother (Bee) and our grandfather (Pop) assisted with the initial planting.
The plants were set out during the first few weeks of April. When they began to flower, Al was instructed to pull off the flowers so they would mature.
By early June, the berry patch had been neglected enough that it was almost consumed with weeds. Bee made Albert crawl up each row on his hands and knees to pull every weed. He then carried them in a bushel basket to the edge of the woods that lined our property.
About the third week of June, Al said, “The patch was completely covered with succulent berries.” He carefully picked them in order for my grandmother (Mommie Katie) to can and to make jam. He also sold them by the quart to our neighbors.
Every year that Al lived in Mt. Vernon, he was the caretaker of the berry patch. At the end of 1952, Al enrolled at Georgetown College as a full-time student. The berry patch was not cultivated after he left the farm. For years the berries came up and served only as rabbit food.
By the time I was in the eighth grade, the strawberry patch had become wild. The wild strawberries were very small and extremely sweet. The small plants propagated themselves by runners. The berries were also very aromatic.
Mommie Katie took me for a walk into the patch one summer, explaining, “David Joe, if you will pick a gallon of these berries, I will make us a Wild Strawberry Shortcake.” I had no idea what she had in mind but I knew what a super cook she was. Without hesitation, I proceeded to the house and got a large metal bucket to hold the berries.
When Mommie first mentioned a short cake, I thought of the little round cakes that you purchase in a restaurant. How wrong I was! Her shortcake turned out to be completely different from anything I had tasted before.
When we went into her kitchen, she took a large black iron skillet from the bottom of the kitchen range. I can only recall two ingredients that Mommie Katie used in the preparation of the shortcake: baking powder and flour. She called it a biscuit, but it completely covered the bottom of the skillet. She made two of these large “biscuits.”
Each biscuit was sliced into two layers. The bottom layer was covered with the small berries which had been covered with sugar and placed in the refrigerator the night before. The other half of the biscuit was gently placed on the berries and more berries were ladled on the top. The concoction looked like a huge apple stack cake when she finished. At that point, she wrapped it in wax paper and gently placed it in the refrigerator to cool.
That night after dinner, Mommie Katie removed the Wild Strawberry Shortcake from the ‘fridge and set it in the middle of the dinner table. Filling several small bowls, she passed them around for us to sample her creation.
I always loved desserts, but this was nothing short of amazing to my young taste buds. I remember it well to this day. The berries and the huge biscuits made a dessert that was like nothing I have tasted before or since. (Think of the purest, sweetest strawberry jam ever made slathered generously on a huge homemade biscuit.) I will never forget that experience. Regular strawberry shortcake pales by comparison.
Each summer after that, I picked the small berries and Mommie Katie “did her magic” for our special dessert. After I left Mt. Vernon for UK, the berry patch was again abandoned and became overgrown with weeds. It eventually was used for Pop’s garden.
As with any of Mommie’s wonderful concoctions, I don’t know what I would give to taste that special dessert again. You reckon they have wild strawberry patches in heaven?

(You can reach me at mtnman@mis.net or you can reach me at P.O. Box 927 – Stanton, KY 40380. I appreciate your comments and suggestions for this column.)