1.0The News Journalhttps://qa.thenewsjournal.netrich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="YrFiShbSqB"><a href="https://qa.thenewsjournal.net/now-one-continued/">Now, which one are you? continued…</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://qa.thenewsjournal.net/now-one-continued/embed/#?secret=YrFiShbSqB" width="600" height="338" title="“Now, which one are you? continued…” — The News Journal" data-secret="YrFiShbSqB" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); /* ]]> */ </script> https://qa.thenewsjournal.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/Bena-Mae-mug137.jpg200228Now, which one are you? continued… It was a similar story when we got ready for church on Sunday mornings. Seven females sharing the only large mirror in the house did not make for good family relationships. By the time we arrived at church, we needed a lot of religion to replenish what we lost in getting ready to get there. It’s a wonder we ever got anywhere in one piece, or made it through twelve years of schooling without driving our mother crazy. In school I always had an identity problem with being reminded of what a wonderful student the sister before me had been. Once in tenth grade algebra, the teacher asked me a question to which I had no earthly answer. That sparked a lecture with her telling the entire class how smart my older sister had been in her class the year before. Well, shucks, I remember thinking, maybe my sister was good in algebra, but I could sing better than she could. Besides, I hated algebra, I didn’t see any use for it then and to this day, I’ve never had to use “Pi R Square” even once. If I had my way, they’d quit teaching it. When we were old enough to go out with boys, we had to deal with Daddy and his list of rules as long as his arm. First, our dates had to pass a security clearance that would put the FBI and CIA to shame. Then he made us take another sister along with us for “protection”. He didn’t know it, but as soon as we were out of his sight, we parted company and met up again on our way home. Daddy was a real Puritan. In his mind, being seen alone with a boy after dark was all it took for us to “get our name down”… almost tantamount to holding up the Corbin Deposit Bank. He mellowed a lot in his later years, though. Especially after TV came along. I guess watching “Little House on the Prairie” softened him up. I guess I was fifteen years old before I had a new dress I could call my own. That was when I began working at Newberry’s Five and Ten Cent Store. I made fourteen dollars a week and spent every cent of it on clothes. Always before I had worn hand-me-downs. I remember how I couldn’t wait for my older sister to outgrow a dress so I could wear it. We never wore store bought clothes. Mama always made them on her trusty old Singer. Because of her expertise, we were talking advertisements for the Montgomery Ward Catalogue Company. She would go through the catalogue until she saw a dress she liked, then she copied it by cutting her own pattern out of newspapers. We dressed well for very little money, as I recall. The right to privacy? Forget about it. Such a right didn’t exist in our large household. If one of us found out another’s secret, we made their life miserable.  When one of our older sisters received letters from her boyfriend, she would keep them locked in a little chest she kept in the back of one of her dresser drawers. But that didn’t slow us younger ones down. We just picked the lock and laughed ourselves silly reading  them — gee, were they mushy. Then we would follow her around and torment her by reciting pertinent phrases we had read. When she caught on to what we were doing, she would light into us and yell, “Mama!  They’ve been reading my letters!” Then here would come that switch again. Baked Eggplant Ingredients 1 oval eggplant Salt Finely minced onion 3 to 4 teaspoons mayonnaise 3 to 4 tablespoons of breadcrumbs 1 tablespoon of Parmesan cheese Directions Slice 4 slices 1/4 inch thick from oval eggplant.  Peel if desired. Sprinkle both sides of slices with salt and let stand on paper towel 30 minutes. Pat dry. Dip slices into mixture of 3 to 4 teaspoons of mayonnaise, 1 teaspoon very finely minced onion. Coat with a mixture of 3 to 4 tablespoons of breadcrumbs, ad grated Parmesan Cheese. Place on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes or until eggplant is tender and coating is browned. Enjoy.