Journal Record and strawberry cake (leftovers)

By Marlon Holloway
“Country Boy Who Made It Home”
Guest columnist

We all have things in our life that we pass along, be it wisdom, knowledge, inheritance and most importantly, LOVE! Which brings us to this article. My love for the Journal Record is unquestionable. Too many times I have written an article that was way beyond the limits of the word, but the powers that be let it ride. I will try to stay in the confines but cannot promise.
I got a call from my Cousin a few weeks ago asking me did I still have the Journal Record my Mama gave me that Wednesday. It is important to note that my Mama receives the Journal Record every Wednesday like clockwork, and she saves it for me. I take it to work sometimes and pass it along to our faithful Sheriff Deputies to read who maintain the security of our beloved county court house.  
The Journal Record is a reminder that I need to go by and visit my Mama, and if I don’t, she kindly reminds me that she has the weekly paper. In other words, “Why have you not come seen me?”  We are all guilty of this that are so fortunate to still have our Mamas or Daddies with us.  
Back to the story. My Cousin said there was a picture of one of her grandkids in the paper, and my Aunt Francis, who she normally gets her paper from, had already thrown her paper away. I said I would see what I could do.
I check with the Sheriff Deputies, and the paper had been passed on to someone else. I then check the three newspaper boxes I knew of in town, and they were all empty.  Then I went to the Journal Record and purchased three papers to which is why I am writing this article. They twisted my arm after I told the story of why I was there buying outdated papers.
The strawberry cake part comes in because--like the passing around of the paper--this story involves two strawberry cakes from different parts of the county. The first was the one my Mama bought several months ago I believe for the Fourth of July wing-ding at my place, but because there was so much sweets (southern thing), she put it in the freezer for a special occasion.
This turned out to be the Labor Day weekend shrimp boil. Well, Mama took out the strawberry cake and put it in the refrigerator to thaw out for the weekend. Well, the shrimp boil and all went well that Saturday, but we forgot the strawberry cake in Mama’s refrigerator.
Now, it just so happens that Mama’s water heater was leaking that weekend, so after church, I went to take a look to see how bad. Turns out she needed a new one which at the time of writing this article, Grant and I, along with S&H Building Supply, have replaced in case you are wondering.

Later that evening, after all the folks left,  it appeared I may have upset some of the teenagers Saturday night on Labor Day weekend because three of them came back over to swim in my pool about 9 o’clock that night. They just live across the field, and I said sure. So, like a good Uncle, I sat out there with them till about 10:30 p.m. and could not hold my eyes open any longer and told them, “It is time for them to go. I got to get some sleep.”
Of course, as teenagers, they said they could swim and for me to just go to bed. They would be careful, and nothing would happen. Flashbacks came into my mind when I was 16 and I said, “That ain’t going to happen. Get your stuff and go home.” “Why are you being so mean to us, Uncle Junior?” A simple thank you, Uncle Junior, for letting us swim would have been nice.
Instead I get “why are you being so mean to us?”  To which I replied, “Because it is my house, your parents did not call and ask if you could come night swimming and because I own this place, so there, you got to go! I want to go to bed.” This was said in the most gentle voice I had at the time, but I am sure something was said to the folks in charge of these teenagers that, “Uncle Junior was ugly and hollered at us.” I can only imagine how this was relayed to their parents when they got home.
This now brings us back to the water heater inspection I did on Sunday after church and the strawberry cakes. Upon returning from Mama’s basement to check her leaking water heater, ‘bout 30 minutes later, I notice my cuz and her beau were gone. I asked Mama where did they go, and she said they had come by for a spell to visit with her and had decided to return home to lower Alabama today and have a day of rest on Monday before returning to work on Tuesday.  
Understand, I am going to the farm/hunting camp in Twin. They are cooking tonight, and they have a crab/shrimp boil going on. So off I went. We had a good time, and the following morning, we got everyone packed up and on their way.  As I normally do, I make a round to make sure all the leftovers are in my truck, and that is what I eat for about a week or until it is all gone.
Looking into the refrigerator we have outside, I found one piece of strawberry cake left in a very nice cake box--the owners’ birthday cake.  Knowing how my Mother likes strawberry cake, I decided to take this home to Mama. She was not at home so I left it. When she got home that evening she called me to ask if I brought the piece of strawberry cake, which I said I did.
This is when she reminded me she forgot to bring the strawberry cake out Saturday for the Labor Day cook out. She told me to come get it and take it to the ladies at the court house because they do so much for our county. I will not say which office I took it to, but I am sure they enjoyed it.
With all this said, remember your leftovers! Whether it is a newspaper, shrimp/crab boil, strawberry cake, pasta, cornbread salad or just good conversation that you share a story with when you visit someone else down the road that you heard somewhere else.  Share what you have and God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit will bless you.
If you do not know who/what I am talking about, then visit your local church. I am sure over a piece of strawberry cake and a reading of the Journal Record, you can figure it out.