VALENTINE'S DAY MEMORIES

I have a friend from my elementary school days, and he and I have been reminiscing about Valentine's Day parties. About a week before the big day -- in art class -- we would create beautiful card receptacles from construction paper, brown paper bags, paste, glitter and poster paints. They were works of art. Masterpieces. My friend found some of his sacks, still full of valentines, in his mother's attic. What memories! Some of the people who signed his cards are no longer alive. It's been 52 years! How can that be?

I was a take-charge sort of a little girl and, as far as valentines went, I did it all. I walked to the TG&Y store, or the ten-cent store, as we called it, on Getwell Road and purchased my valentines. I always bought one of those big variety packs and a special card for my teacher and one for the "cute boy du jour" that I had a crush on. I was very fickle in those days, and the object of my affection changed weekly, so the boy for whom I picked out the card might not be the one who got it.

In preparation for the card giving, our teachers wrote the names of the members of her class on the blackboard. We copied them all down in our tablets or three-ring notebooks. This would be our master list from which we addressed our cards. We were strongly encouraged by our teacher to be sure to give everyone on the list a card, even if we hated their guts. A kid who got no valentines could be scarred for life, and Heaven knows, I didn't want that on my conscience, so everyone received a card from me, and I certainly appreciated the favor. Popularity could hinge on something as flimsy as how many valentines a person received.

So, the Valentine's Day sack was made, and the teacher had hung it up on the wall with all the others. I had the valentines in my hot little hands. I had the master names list. Time to go to work. I can see myself now. I'm sitting at the dinner table. A stack of valentines and envelopes are on the table in front of me. To the left of them is the master list. To the right is a stack of pretty Valentine's Day stickers and three or four freshly sharpened pencils. Addressing valentines was not a job for an ink pen. If you made a mistake, there was no rectifying it. No bottles of "White Out" in those days, and even if there had been, would you have wanted to receive a shabby Valentine with white, gunky smears all over it? No, there was nothing to do for it except to toss the screwed-up valentine in the trash can. It just killed me to waste my hard-earned dollar a week allowance on messed up valentines, so I was very careful. I addressed them with a #2 pencil with a quality eraser.

Ok, so I would look at the first name on my master list, then thumb through my stack for the perfect valentine for that person. This was no haphazard undertaking. I tried to match the valentine to the person. If that person liked kitties, they got a valentine with a cat on it. A lot of thought went into the whole process. Then I signed my name, addressed the envelope, slipped the valentine inside and sealed it with a Valentine's Day sticker. Even then, I'm proud to say that I went the extra mile. After I finished, I carefully put them in a sack and placed them right next to my book satchel so I wouldn't forget them. The next day, it was so much fun to drop them in the prettily-decorated bags. The party would be held the last hour of the school day, and waiting for that time to come was as bad as trying to get to sleep on Christmas Eve. The anticipation was almost unbearble.

I will never forget the Valentine's Day party when I was in the 6th grade at Sherwood Elementary School. That was the year that I, little June Baldridge, reached the height of my social life. It had never been better before that day, and it has never been better since. The triumph! The joy! The exhilaration! I received THREE --count them -- small heart-shaped boxes of chocolate candy! Let me tell you, it doesn't get any better than that in life. Since then, there have been beautiful bouquets of red roses, gorgeous Valentines from my sweetheart, and much bigger boxes of Russell Stover's candy, but that Valentine's Day will live in my memory until the day I die. Thank you, Sam Griffin, Joe Griffith and Mike Newsom....wherever you are .... and Happy Valentine's Day!

Don and me....Valentines since 1969

BOLOGNA CUPS

As our family and friends gathered here in Eureka Springs two weeks ago, the conversation turned, as it often does when families reminisce, to the comfort food of childhood. One of my children's favorites was, and is, Bologna Cups. Doesn't sound very appetizing? Maybe that's because it's a Memphis Thing. I think that's why my sons' ladies fail to appreciate the appeal of that tasty dish. They are from barbaric areas of our fine country.....California, Virginia, and Texas..... and just don't see it. Most born-and-bred Memphians love Bologna cups, having been introduced to them at a very young age by the school system.

I remember well the first time I ate a Bologna Cup. It was in the cafeteria of Rozelle Elementary School which I attended from the first grade through the first half of the fourth. I had never tasted anything so delicious in my life! What a fantastic idea! I loved Bologna, and I loved mashed potatoes. Here were my two favorites combined! It just didn't get any better than that.

Bologna, or baloney, as it's pronounced in good Southern homes, was a staple at our house, as was ground beef and canned meats such as Vienna Sausages, corned beef, and potted meat. These "meats" grew to favor during the Great Depression because they were dirt cheap. My parents' families were poor before the Depression, and during and after, they sure didn't have the money for steaks. When my parents married, they carried on the fine tradition of serving up cheap meats in cans and frying ground beef in all sorts of ways in pure lard. Yum. Yum. Bacon grease was saved to season vegetables. In those days, I'm surprised that anybody's heart was able to pump blood through blocked arteries longer than 40 years, but, I'm telling you, the food was delicious!

But to get back to the Bologna Cups.... every time the subject comes up, our children rhapsodize about them, but the family members, who don't actually have our blood coursing through their veins, sniff with disgust and roll their eyes. Bologna Cups! Whoever heard of such a thing? That sounds disgusting!

Our children love them, and our boys would like for their ladies to dish them up occasionally. Well, I don't think Jason expects Erin to cook them because she's a vegetarian, and he is sensitive to her feelings about that. Tom, along with Robin, does eat vegetarian most of the time, but he still appreciates a good Bologna Cup every now and then. He's had to master the delicate technique and learn to cook them himself. Keith's wife, Brandi, doesn't understand all the excitement about them. I think she has prepared them a time or two, but she'd really rather not, and she'd rather take a beating than to eat one.

If you don't know exactly how to prepare Bologna Cups, but your mouth is simply watering at the prospect of eating them, here's what you do:

First, you make a big pot of mashed potatoes. I use an entire 5-lb bag for this because I want to make enough Bologna Cups to last for a while When the potatoes are boiled and mashed, you grab a package or two of all-beef Bologna. Heat up a skillet.... an electric skillet is best because you can cook more pieces at a time and start gobbling them up sooner. Drop the Bologna in the skillet and stand back and gaze in wonder as it curls up into cute little bowls. Is that not the neatest thing you've ever seen? Some sort of mysterious scientific principle is involved here, but I can't explain it. Suffice it to say, that it's miraculous! After a minute or so, flip the Bologna over and let the little bowls curl up the other way. It's really fun to watch them, but try to contain yourself and only do it twice. You don't want to scorch your Bologna.

Now, here's the trick: Quickly, before the Bologna loses its shape, start slapping big spoonsful of mashed potatoes in the bowls. Use your own good judgment as to how much to pile on each one. When each Bologna bowl has taters, it's time for the final touch: Kraft's American Cheese slices. Place one-half slice on each Bologna Cup. Then, place the cover of the electric skillet over the skillet for a few minutes so the cheese will melt. Ah..... a Southern gourmet meal. Voila! Bologna Cups! That's some mighty fine eating!

Other family culinary delights are salmon croquettes, made sort of the way Mama made them... although I changed the recipe slightly.... and boiled peanuts. We are still in the process of convincing the ladies that those dishes are delicacies. We've tried for years, but they just don't get it. We can only pity them. They just don't know what they're missing.

GROUND HOG DAY

This morning I jumped out of bed and rushed to my computer to see if Punxsatawney Phil saw his shadow this morning. Yes, he did. Bummer! Six more weeks of winter. The more I think about it, though, that's not such a long time. It seems like the days fly by for me even in the winter. We should start seeing more days in the 50's and low 60's now. I was cheered enormously when I looked out the window this evening, and it was still light at 5:40! That's quite an improvement from the darkness I saw through the window at 5:15 in December. We still have capricious March to get through. Jonquils will be blooming, but it could snow at any time. Actually, March, here in Eureka Springs, was beautiful last year. Then came a killing frost in April that zapped my beautiful wisteria and lots of other early-blooming spring flowers. You just never know.

I was disappointed that AOL had not posted the Punxsatawney Phil prediction on my Welcome Screen. It was nowhere to be found. I had to do a search for the official Phil site to find out what went down this morning. Honestly, I think the Ground Hog story is every bit as important as the craziness in Britney Spears' life. I wish I had a dollar for every morning that I've signed on the computer to have her face or crotch staring back at me. Shame on you, AOL!

This is my favorite photo from last week's family/friend gathering: It's a family portrait. Left to right, standing: Tom, me, Don and left to right, sitting: Jason and Debbie

It's been so quiet around here tonight. So different from last Saturday night when everyone came back to the house after Jason and Emil's performance at The New Delhi Cafe. I'm bored. Don should be home from work any minute. Then I'll have some good company.