Bena Mae’s Kitchen: Politics are no fun anymore

Probably the hardest working politician I ever heard of was an incumbent (we’ll call him Judge Turner) who was being opposed for the first time since taking office by a young man (we’ll call him Mr. Jones) in a rural county in the mountains of Southeastern Kentucky. The office of County Judge was up for grabs and Judge Turner, who was used to sailing into office without opposition, was having to get out and beat the bushes for votes.
As the story goes (and it’s supposed to be a true one) the judge was finding that everywhere he went, young Mr. Jones had been there before him nailing down the votes that had once been his. “We’re sorry, Judge, but we’ve already promised our vote to that Jones feller,” was the response he was getting and it was beginning to worry him.
After hearing the same story over and over again, he realized he might be in trouble. So he set about devising a plan that would beat his opponent to the draw–or so he thought. He would get up early the following morning, long before Mr. Jones had time to get out of bed, and catch the old steam locomotive as it passed through on its way to a little mountain community on farther up in the holler. There, he would do some politicking before his opponent had a chance to know what happened.
Once on board the train, he silently cursed the necessity for making the trip. But a vote is a vote, he kept telling himself as the old engine made its way around the sharp curves and up the steep grade of the mountainside. As the train finally pulled into the station and slowed to a stop, he dropped off the bottom step to the platform below. Looking up at the cloudless sky, he began to dread the day that lay before him. This is going to be a hot one he thought. It was the middle of July and the heat had been oppressive. On this particular day, it didn’t show any signs of letting up.
After getting his bearings, he took off for a few houses that sat just down the road from the train station. He hadn’t walked far when he spotted an old woman chopping wood in her backyard. Seizing the opportunity to win a vote, he let himself in through a rickety gate and made his way to where she was. When he offered to finish chopping the wood for her, she willingly took him up on it and handed him the axe.
Taking off his jacket, he lit into the unpleasant job he had volunteered for. After chopping for awhile, the heat and physical exertion began to get to him–he wasn’t used to manual labor and as I said, it was the middle of July. Looking around, he saw an old tree stump where he could sit down and rest for a few minutes. Taking out his handkerchief and wiping the sweat from his forehead, he decided it was time to make his pitch.
“Ma’am,” he began slowly. “My name is Turner. I’m your County Judge and I’m running for reelection. I’d sure appreciate it if you could see your way clear to vote for me.”
“Lordy mercy, Judge,” the old woman replied. “I’d shore help ye if I could. But I done promised my vote to that young fellar Jones. He’s in the kitchen a-churnin’.”

This recipe comes from Ethel Taylor of Clinton, Tenn. I have worked with and enjoyed the friendship of Ethel for many years. She, being from Williamsburg, Ky., and I, being from Corbin which is just up the road a piece, gives us much to talk about.

Strawberry Salad

2 small boxes strawberry Jell-O
2 cups boiling water

Add immediately and chill:
13 oz. frozen strawberries
1 cup maraschino cherries, cut in half
15 oz. can crushed pineapple
1/2 cup chopped pecans

Topping:
Let set for 2 hours or overnight the following:
1 pkg. cream cheese (small)
1 pkg. Dream Whip
1 cup small marshmallows
1/2 cup milk

Spread over Jell-O mixture and freeze.