COUNTRYSIDE YARNS
TALL TALE OR TRUTH? YOU DECIDE!
Jackson & Annie McFrie, Part 2
by Janis Stein

Join me as I continue to spin the McFrie tale as Jackson pulls off the great sausage caper before he satisfies his two other desires: cider and snuff.

Only a few years after the blackberry incident, Susie Jean's grandmother passed away. Because the family practiced the Catholic faith, all-night wake services were held right at Susie Jean's house. The cold December skies seemed to reflect Susie Jean's heart as she silently went about her chores, helping her mother in all ways expected.

Susie Jean's mother had had her hands full as of late; with raising three daughters and caring for her ailing mother-in-law, she hadn't had a chance to complete the canning after the December butchering. No matter though, since the cold weather turned her summer kitchen into an ideal ice box. The summer kitchen was a separate building apart from the living quarters that housed a stove, and much of the messy kitchen work was done there. From washing and hanging the laundry next to the stove to dry to canning both vegetables and meats, the summer kitchen was the woman of the house's domain.

Because friends and relatives had gathered for Grandma's wake service, Susie Jean's mother had work to do - she needed to prepare a middle-of-the-night meal to feed the mourners. As Susie Jean's mother thought about her menu, she made her way to the summer kitchen to fetch the sausage, where it had been hung and left to drip. She sent up a prayer of thanks that she would have enough to feed so many and a good variety, too, for she not only had pork sausage, she could also serve blood sausage and liver sausage as well.

With the December moon reflecting off the winter snow and with the aid of her trusty lantern, Susie Jean's mother had little trouble making her way through the snow to the summer kitchen to retrieve the sausage. The howling winter wind blew the door violently open as Susie Jean's mother turned the latch and, in turn, Susie Jean's mother let out a howl of her own. All her precious sausage was gone! Turning around and around in bewilderment, she shone her lantern in every nook and cranny until the realization dawned - Jackson had struck again - to go along with his eggs, this winter Jackson would be dining on Susie Jean's sausage as well!

The untimely sausage caper was almost more than Susie Jean's mother could bear. And as she quickly improvised and changed her menu, she sent up one more prayer of thanks, this time to Grandma for having had the brazenness to throw that blackberry in the face of Annie McFrie a few year's previous!

So it went, year after year after year, with the McFrie's taking only what they thought they needed from their neighbors to survive, and the neighbors still living by the Golden Rule, tolerating the oddities of the McFrie's as best they could. Sometimes, though, the chance arose for a statement to be made. Such was the case one year when the neighbors united together on thrashing day. Jackson lent a helping hand just like the rest, for he either needed the men to return the favor or he was hungry for a good meal and didn't mind working to earn it.

At dinnertime, the women had created quite a spread, and the men dove into the meal with relish. The men put Jackson in the middle of the table, and they seized the opportunity to gain a bit of revenge for all the times the McFrie's had wronged them over the years. One of the men passed Jackson a jar of homemade horseradish and encouraged him to take a heaping spoonful. Jackson, never one to turn down food, greedily scooped a forkful and deposited it promptly in his mouth. No sooner had the hot concoction touched his tongue, when it began to burn and burn some more. The men on either side of Jackson squeezed in a little closer, so Jackson could not leave the table, but rather was forced to swallow the fiery blend. Instantly beads of sweat formed on Jackson's brow and his face began to turn a rosy shade of red, the color beginning first at the base of his neck and rising steadily until it reached his forehead. Not a word did he utter, shoveling in food instead as fast as he could to combat the burning sensation and washing it all down with ice cold water pumped fresh from the well!

Time went on as time will do, and the McFrie's became somewhat of an icon in the neighborhood. While people progressed in the ways of the world, Jackson and Annie stood still, helping themselves to what they needed, when they needed it. Now Jackson had an appetite like no other, and it just so happened that he could smell a good meal miles away. It was no surprise to some at the O'Malley homestead that Jackson and Annie McFrie only seemed to come a calling around the noon hour.

The O'Malley's had ten children in all, and Mrs. O'Malley worked hard to ensure the food she placed before her husband and children each day would surely be fit for a king. A few times each year, the McFrie's came for a visit, the task of stabling Jackson's horse falling to the eldest of the O'Malley children. While George left his place at the table to get Jackson's horse some hay and water in the barn, Jackson slid into George's warm chair and ate the balance of George's dinner, helping himself to a second scoopful of this or that! Mrs. O'Malley fetched a plate for Annie, too, for she made certain no one would go hungry on her watch, not under her roof.

The Goodrich's, too, felt sorry for the pair, and each time the McFrie's passed through they knew enough to stop for Mrs. Goodrich's famous pancakes. Mrs. Goodrich fried up stack after stack for Jackson who ate as though he hadn't eaten in days. Out of pure good manners, Jackson ate all that was placed in front of him, inviting Annie to sit and enjoy as well for there looked as if there might be plenty to go around. Mrs. Goodrich quickly fried up another batch, happy to feed any who passed through her door.

Along with his healthy appetite, Jackson had just two known weaknesses: cider and snuff. Homemade cider packed a powerful punch, and Jackson, it seemed, could smell a fresh batch a mile away. At one point, the wheel fell off his buggy, but that didn't stop him from his travels, especially if there was cider to be had. He merely crafted a supporting rail, lifting that corner of the buggy, which was minus a wheel, just far enough up so it wouldn't drag on the ground!

After a sip or two of cider, Jackson continued on until he reached his next stop, a neighbor who was known to be fond of Copenhagen and who always had a stash of snuff, ever ready. This fellow, too, shared what he had, though he did get wiser to the ways of Jackson McFrie as time went by. Instead of the customary pinch, Jackson always grabbed a fistful, shoving the wad deep into his cheek. After this happened a few times, the wise neighbor kept two boxes of Copenhagen in his secret stash - one that was full and one with just a few pinches left, the latter he was always happy to share with the likes of Jackson McFrie.

Another decade passed, and the 1947 winter brought with it an abundance of snow, a good degree more than the locals had seen in years. Most folks were house bound, the roads plugged with drifts greater than the plows of the day could fight. It didn't matter much, though, because farmers didn't need to travel far; they had all they needed right on their land. With a cow for fresh milk and jars of canned meat and vegetables to sustain a family, many worked just to stay warm and keep the animals alive.

Be sure to look for the conclusion in next month's issue as Jackson and Annie McFrie continue on their merry way. You won't want to miss this one!

© 2005 Janis Stein