Caves remembered
When those men were trapped in that mine a few days ago, I tried to feel or imagine how they might have felt. The nearest I could come to it was to remember the many times I went into caves while in the Ozarks. At the time I just enjoyed the adventure, but now I cringe in remembering what could have happened.
Once we had to literally get down and squeeze under a huge rock with water dripping all around.
My first cave was probably the Cave of the Winds in Colorado. It didn't feel like a cave. Then there is the big one — Carlsbad Caverns — with bats, stalagmites, stalactites, and all. I remember they turned the lights out and we all lighted a match. Do they still do that? I really don't care to go in any more caves.
I just read a little book, "Maybe (Maybe Not)" by Robert Fuhlgrum. Pretty entertaining. One article was about people (I guess that includes us). Anyway, people present themselves to the public in one way — maybe pleasant and friendly, then go home and are different — maybe beat their wives and children. The third part is our secret life. No one ever knows that. If we had a video of 24 hours of our secret life, we probably couldn't stand it. I used to be told that every word I spoke and maybe every thought I had, was being registered in the Big Book up there. That was a worry.
This, the 15th of August, was Julia Childs 90th birthday — the same day as my mother's. Julia has always been a favorite of mine. She is so out and out just herself — so full of humor and optimism. She is much more than an artist in the food department. Happy birthday, Julia! Many, many more!
— NORMA HANNAFORD
