Keep Keer!

So I made collards. Well not collards so much as I’m prepping a bunch to go into my crock pot with white beans and Andouille sausage. A recipe from a magazine I’m dying to try. It made me think. First – why have I almost never made collards? I love them! As I pulled the wide pieces away from the tough stems I caught the aroma of “green”. It smelled of new cabbage and broccoli. I wondered should I soak it – don’t you do that? And I realized that mine were hydroponically grown organic and practically babied out of the ground. Granny’s came from a muddy field, hand sown, handpicked and full of red clay mud and sand. We grew up on collards – tasty ones from Granny’s steam pressure cooker – more dangerous than her .38. Wonderful things - tender and full of flavor – lovingly dressed with some sort of side meat. “Streaky meat” she called it – fabulous fat back. I’ve probably made collards from scratch maybe twice – from recipes. It’s a shame – where did that skill go? It simply wasn’t passed on. Mama wasn't a great cook and Granny would let us help but the big stuff was all her. It reminds me of a time when Christy came to visit and I offered her sweet tea. She thought it was SO odd that she never made sweet tea at home. We grew up on it, “aqua vit” to us Southerners. Another time I was trying to make my own chicken gravy and had Granny on the phone for step by step instructions. As she patiently told me what to do, I attempted to do it. With vague instructions like “maybe a scoonch more of flour” or “a drop or two of water” I explained to Granny that I’d created a tan paste and asked “What should I do now?” I waited for her answer like Greeks waited at the mouth of the oracle to hear these wise words - “Pitch it out.” A beat passed and then we laughed like crazy people do. Which reminds me of another piece of childhood, a phrase we used as kids and lost somewhere: “Keep keer”. I have no idea if it was bastardized Scotts Irish or just plain kid language but it meant if you had something of value, you were to “keep keer” of it. My one class in linguistics never touched on THAT one. Though the phrase is lost, the sentiment is still there. My advanced age has taught me that being able to keep keer of what matters and pitching out what doesn’t is a skill worth mastering. Life is what happens while you’re choosing what you value. I value YOU so keep keer of yourself ;0)