Cookies that don't crumble
Your Ol' Editor received a clever metal box this week containing cookies. They were from Roma Collett Skaggs of Topeka, who we recall back around the mid-50s as a cute girl with vivacious ways and an infectiously pleasant personality.
She sent the generous box of oatmeal cookies and asked for an evaluation of whether of not they were like those my grandmother used to make.
Roma is kin to many Colletts, the sister of Commissioner Howard and aunt of attorney Keith, she's a talented cookie baker. Her oatmeal cookies are fabulous. With just a hint of subtle flavor (my guess is molasses and a bit of ginger) they are addictive. You can't stop at one or two. That's probably why she sent an entire tin. Her cookies are flat, my grandmother's were in small mounds. Roma uses nuts and raisins, so did Grandma. And Roma's are dark brown in color while my grandmother's were light brown.
You'll never eat a better oatmeal cookie than ones Roma bakes. Believe me. But none could compare to those Grandma Jones provided an appreciative lad. The memory of those cookies won't crumble. Of course, she held an unequal advantage. The little boy she baked for in that wood stove with reservoir, knew she was the most wonderful person on earth. And so were her cookies. Roma's are great too.
Two coincidences this week. Our friend Jack Tarr at David City, Neb., tells how the mayor of North Platte challenged the community to raise $5,000 for an animal shelter. They raised it. A couple in Pennsylvania read the story and donated their estate of $400,000 to the shelter. The man recalled how he passed through North Platte during World War II and the community was friendly, hospitable, and compassionate. He remembered.
Jack also recalls that he was on a troop train during WWII going from California to board a ship in a convoy for combat in Europe. He well recalls that they passed through North Platte on his birthday and were graciously received by the townspeople. Later, his parents, who lived in nearby Norfolk, recalled that they had been volunteers at the North Platte canteen that day. Neither Jack nor his parents knew the other was there, until years later.
Paddy remained in Ireland while his two brothers migrated to the United States and Australia. To honor them, each afternoon at 5 Jim stopped at the pub to order three pints of Stout, one for himself and one for each brother. It became a long standing tradition until one day when Paddy ordered only two pints. The barkeep offered his condolences, "Which one of your brothers died?" Paddy blinked his eyes and replied, "Neither of them, but my wife has made me stop drinking."
WWII Blunders: The following were among many compiled by Joe Condrill of Overseas Brats.
The first American serviceman killed was a casualty of the Russians in Finland (1940).
The youngest U.S. serviceman was 12-year-old sailor Calvin Graham. After being wounded, he was given a dishonorable discharge for lying about his age. His benefits were later restored by act of Congress.
At the time of Pearl Harbor the top U.S. Navy command was called CINCUS (pronounced "sink us"); the shoulder patch of the 45th Inf. Div. was a swastika; and Hitler's private train was named "Amerika." All three were changed.
When they reached the Rhine, guess what was the first thing American soldiers did? Urinated in it.
Among the first "Germans" captured by Americans on D-Day in Normandy were several Koreans who had been captured by the Russians and forced to fight for them, until captured by the Germans and forced to fight for them, until captured by the Americans (the best thing that happened to them).
During the invasion of Kiska and Attu in the Aleutian Islands of Alaska in May 1943, following a massive naval bombardment 35,000 U.S. and Canadian troops stormed ashore. Only 21 were killed. It would have been much worse if there had been any Japanese on the island.
— BILL MEYER
