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Musician Jackie Phelps’s interesting life and a sunny vegetable salad recipe

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Betty Nan Carroll (left) and Donna Baker at the local senior citizens’ center.

The following is an article I wrote for the local newspaper that will be published next week.

UTM Grad Shares Stories of Her Father’s Life in Music

Imagine growing up in a world in which you viewed people like country music’s Roy Acuff, Stringbean, and Grandpa Jones as friends instead of the musical icons they were. Imagine spending Friday and Saturday nights in a dressing room entertaining yourself or playing with Johnny Cash’s daughter while your father is performing on stage as part of the Grand Ole Opry. Imagine seeing your father every Saturday on WTVF’s Hee Haw and accepting it as a normal life.

Imagine that your godfather was Roy Acuff.

If you can imagine this, you can grasp what Donna Phelps Baker’s growing up years were like. The 1982 UTM graduate and Nashville resident returned recently to Martin to be a part of a speaking series offered at the Gateway Senior Citizens Center.

The Tennessee History series began in July, under the supervision of Becky Hames, activities director. Topics have included historical events like the Battle of Shiloh and historical places like The Ryman in Nashville.

When local retired teacher Betty nan Carroll was asked to do a presentation on The Ryman Auditorium, she agreed and reached out to Baker, fellow retired teacher and member of Alpha Delta Kappa, to be a part of the program on July 25. Carroll’s presentation included the history of the famous building and its builder as well as how the building was used over the years for revivals, public speakers, and performers. Baker’s part of the program involved her father and how he came to be an important part of the Nashville music scene.

It’s possible you may not recognize his name. Although he released six albums on Nashville’s Starday record label, he is more recognized than known to a generation of Hee Haw viewers from 1972 until 1988. Jackie Phelps was an accomplished musician and singer whose journey into the music business began at a young age while growing up in Virginia.

“He was born in October of 1925,” Baker said. “The same month and year that the Grand Ole Opry started.”

Like many of that time, the native of Holland, Virginia grew up poor but learned to play  a pedal steel guitar and an acoustic “flat-top” guitar which allowed him to perform locally at venues like grocery stores. Encouraged by others to audition for Bill Monroe, who is considered to be the father of bluegrass music, he traveled to Norfolk to do so and was rejected. Later, however, when a band member quit, Monroe contacted him and asked him to join the group.

The year was 1947, and it wasn’t long until Phelps was drafted to serve in the military. He was sent to Korea but never saw combat. Instead, his role was to drive officers, including generals, to their destinations. When they learned he could sing and play music, they asked him to perform, thereby enabling him to continue to develop his craft.

Upon his return to civilian life, he continued to play with Bill Monroe’s band occasionally but secured a spot with Red Foley’s band. While touring with Foley in Springfield, Missouri, he was smitten by the cute girl selling tickets to the event and in 1949, he married the girl named Lois. He and his bride moved to Nashville where he did studio work, but his travels did not stop.

By this time, Phelps could play the banjo in addition to the guitar, and he began his tenure of working with Roy Acuff, a tenure that included performing in Bob Hope’s USO tours. The entertainers spent ten to 12 weeks at a time going to places like Laos, Vietnam, and Thailand. “Wherever there was an American military base in southeast Asia, they performed there,” Baker said.

No doubt he experienced some close calls while in southeast Asia, but it was on U.S. soil that the most famous one occurred. Having performed in Kansas City, Phelps and Jean Shepherd were offered a ride on a small plane to return to Nashville, but Shepherd was eight months pregnant and not allowed to fly, so Phelps drove her back to Nashville.

That plane crashed near Camden, Tennessee, killing Patsy Cline and “Hawkshaw” Hawkins.

Another tragedy hit close to home when Phelps’s close friend, the musician, songwriter, and comedian known as “Stringbean” was murdered in his home along with his wife. “She was shot in the back,” Baker said. “It was brutal.” Phelps was devastated by the loss and served as honorary pallbearer at Stringbean’s funeral.

Phelps’s repertoire of fellow performers, in addition to those mentioned, include Porter Waggoner, Jean Shepherd, and even studio work with Elvis Presley. But his most lucrative and steady work began when Archie Campbell and a Hee Haw producer discovered Phelps and Jimmy Riddle one night doing rhythm skills known as “eefing” and “hambone.” Two weeks after auditioning, the two men signed a contract that lasted for Phelps from 1972 until his retirement in 1988.

In 1989, he was diagnosed with cancer and passed away in 1990. His close friend Grandpa Jones served as an honorary pallbearer at his funeral. He was inducted posthumously into Hazard, Kentucky’s Thumbpickers Hall of Fame in 1990.

The Tennessee History series will continue through October, and a schedule of dates and times is available on the Gateway Senior Citizens Facebook page and the City of Martin Facebook page, or you can go by the center and pick up a calendar. The next scheduled topic is August 15 at 10:00 A.M. when Pam Harris will share stories and information about Graceland.

That is the end of the article, but I hope it intrigued you to look him up on YouTube and other sites. Baby boomers likely watched Her Haw and may recognize Phelps.

This week’s recipe was one I got from my mother-in-law who read magazines and searched the Internet regularly for new recipes to try. She was an amazing cook and wonderful person who was loved by all who knew her. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother-in-law.

Sunny Vegetable Salad

5 cups fresh broccoli, chopped

5 cups fresh cauliflower, chopped

2 cups shredded cheddar cheese

2/3 cup chopped onion (I like red onion for this)

1/2 cup raisins

1/4 cup sunflower kernels

1 cup mayonnaise

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons apple or red wine vinegar (I use the red wine vinegar)

6 bacon stripps

Instructions:

Cook bacon strips until crisp. Remove to paper towel to cool and allow extra grease to be absorbed.

In a small mixing bowl, combine mayonnaise, sugar, and vinegar. In a large bowl, combine chopped vegetables, raisins, and sunflower kernels. Stir well, then add dressing from smaller bowl. Add shredded cheese and stir well to mix all ingredients. Crumble bacon and top salad with bacon crumbles. Serve immediately or refrigerate until time to serve. Note: If I am not going to serve immediately, I wait to add the crumbled bacon until ready to serve.

St. Jude Fun(d)raisers and a favorite Mexican dish recipe

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Memphis, first Saturday of December 2018. Also my first St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital fundraiser. I, along with 26,000 other people, walked/ran that unusually warm December morning to raise money to help fight childhood cancer.

It had been on my bucket list for years, but my hectic schedule kept me from training. I’d been a fitness walker since my twenties, but walking 13.1 miles requires preparation to avoid injury.

It is still one of the highlights of my life.

You may think that is weird, so allow me to explain. Growing up, I was never the athletic type. Oh, I was good at normal childhood things. I rode my bicycle, was an excellent roller skater, and even tetherball champion at my elementary school in Arizona. Softball…very average. Basketball…below average. Tried out for cheerleading…a fiasco.

I didn’t do team sports. Partly because I wasn’t that competitive with others and partly because I was embarrassed. But individual challenges, things that made me compete with myself and set higher goals for myself, were more in my wheelhouse. In college, I swam in the university’s huge indoor pool, jogged on the running track or indoor gym balcony, and played racquetball and tennis. I eventually participated in Jazzercise classes at the health club and purchased a Jane Fonda workout video to do at home.

You get the picture. Although not exactly athletic, I was and am active.

My college service sorority, Gamma Sigma Sigma, participated in an annual fundraising event for St. Jude. Living just a little over two hours north of Memphis, the location of the research hospital, makes St. Jude very well known in our area. So as time went on, and I learned about the annual fundraisers involving running and/or walking in various cities across the country, participating in one of them seemed like the natural thing to do.

I registered as a “hero,” meaning I donated some money and pledged to raise $600 more. Thanks to the generosity of family and friends, I exceeded that goal. I registered as a walker, not a runner, which was important because that determined which group you would be in to start the race. The race consisted of a 5K and a 10K, a half-marathon, and a full marathon. I’m pretty sure it was a qualifier for the Boston Marathon, but you might need to double-check that fact.

We lined up at 8:00 A.M. in front of the FedEX Forum in downtown Memphis. I was supposed to be in corral Q, but my declining vision made me think it was corral O. The full marathon runners were at the from of the crowd.

Every five minutes (I think), a loud horn released each group. Well, when my group was released, EVERYONE was running. The walkers were two corrals back. So guess what I did? Yep, I ran too. The adrenalin was pumping, the excitement was high, the spectators lined up along the entire course were cheering me on. My name was in large letters on the number attached to my shirt, and cries of “Go, Pam” or “You’ve got this, Pam” followed me the entire course.

No, I didn’t run the entire course. I ran a mile then walked a mile or so. The course took us down by the river, through downtown streets, across the St. Jude campus where patients, workers, and parents were cheering us on, and to the finish line at the Memphis Redbirds ballpark. At every mile, local organizations were set up to hand us a small cup of water or Gatorade. Trash cans were set up to toss the empty cups into when finished. And, yes, there were those blue portable potty buildings along the entire course. Oh, also musical entertainment on stages situated at strategic locales. A group f musicians and singers welcomed us to the St. Jude campus.

Running across the campus (no way could I walk with that group cheering me on and thanking me for being a hero–I wasn’t the hero, it was that group that were the heroes) was a moving experience. It reminded me of why I was doing what I was doing. Yes, it was a selfish thing, a bucket list thing to prove I could do it. But it was so much more.

I finished the 13.1 miles in 3 hours 17 minutes. Nothing exceptional, but I was okay with that. I did it. And it was an experience and memory I will cherish for the rest of my life.

I did it virtually in my neighborhood in 2020, but that wasn’t the same as being with all those people in that setting.

Since that time, I’ve done numerous walk/run fundraisers, and I’m doing one again on Sept. 27. If you’d like to donate, go to my Facebook timeline (Pam Watts Harris) and click on the link. And if you’d like to fundraise on your own, search for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital Walk/Run Fundraiser Sept. 27, 2025. You can join a team in your area or do it individually as a virtual walker. It’s only 3.1 miles. Piece of cake, right?

We ate Mexican food at an East Memphis restaurant that night, so maybe it’s appropriate I share a homemade chicken quesadilla recipe that’s easy to make.

Baked chicken fajita quesadillas (this recipe makes three quesadillas)

Ingredients:

1 package of chicken tenderloins, usually 1.5 to 2 pounds

1 small red pepper

1 small green pepper

1 small sweet onion

1 tablespoon olive oil

garlic powder

chili powder

1 white queso dip available in supermarkets

Flour tortillas, large taco or fajita size

Instructions:

Bake chicken tenders in a 350 degree oven for 15 minutes. Allow to cool for at least five minutes when done. Remove tendons from each piece and discard. Cut up chicken tenders into chunks or shred by pulling meat apart.

While chicken is baking, Cut peppers and onion into slices. Heat olive oil in skillet on medium high heat and add sliced peppers and onions. Sauté until tender. Sprinkle garlic and chili powders on vegetables (I just guess on this, depends on your personal preference). Add chicken to pepper/onion mixture and more garlic powder and chili powder if desired. Stir well.

Pour queso dip into a microwave-safe bowl and heat until melted.

In a separate skillet on medium high heat, spray with cooking spray and place a tortilla on the pan. Spoon in chicken/pepper/onion mixture one side of the tortilla, and top with two tablespoons melted queso. Immediately bring other side of the tortilla over the mixture and remove with a spatula once both sides are heated. Top with more melted queso if desired.

I usually have salsa, guacamole, and chips to accompany this meal, and you may be able to make more than three quesadillas, depending upon how much chicken you have.

Total time? Maybe 30 minutes. A quick meal for busy lives!

4:15 A.M. thoughts and a great summer dessert recipe

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

My mom started teaching me to cook when I was very young. Really young. As a matter of fact, when I was four or five, I made homemade biscuits because she was sick in bed. Yes, my dad helped me, but she told us how to do it, and I felt very grown-up when I took her the finished product. The problem? I had used a bowl to mix the dough that she used to put my goldfish in when she changed the water in the goldfish bowl. Looks like my dad would have known, but to say he knew nothing about cooking is putting it mildly. I wonder if she figured that out when she took the first bite—dirty fish water taste maybe:

I took home ec, as we called it, my freshman year, and during the cooking semester we prepared and ate a meal during our 60-minute class time. We cooked easy things, but still we cooked. We had homework to make cookies, muffins, biscuits, and cornbread, and we’d bring one sample to our teacher to evaluate. Maybe other girls had their moms do the cooking for them, but I never even asked Mom. I just went by the recipe, and she helped by supervising.

She also started teaching me to sew when I was 12, using an old treadle sewing machine on which I made Barbie clothes. Yes, I was still playing with Barbies at the age of 12. I can confess it now, although it was a deep, dark secret I told no one back then.

So I haven’t let vision loss stop me from cooking. I discovered low-vision cooking aids on Amazon, and I have measuring cups designed for people with low vision, measuring spoons (which were great at first but with the vision decline, I can no longer see without a magnifier), and tactile (bump) dots. The dots are on my oven controls and on frequently used buttons on my microwave. Sure, I make a mess at times, but truth be told, I did that at times even before vision loss!

I still have problems. Yesterday I made guacamole. I used garlic salt accidentally instead of garlic powder, and it was WAY too salty. I ate some of it but had to throw out the rest. I have a Braille labeler that I used to make labels for my spices, but I have gotten lazy about labeling the new ones that replaced the old ones. Now that’s a project I need to do today.

But why was I thinking about all of this at 4:15 this morning and couldn’t fall back asleep? Partly because I was thinking about what topic I’d like to address in my blog. I was thinking about how, as challenging as vision loss is, it would be so much worse to be deaf with no hearing at all. At least vision loss doesn’t keep me from interacting with other people. It doesn’t keep me from enjoying music. To me, being totally deaf would be much worse than totally blind. That’s because I’m a social person, but maybe someone who prefers to be alone or with a very small circle of people would prefer the loss of hearing over the loss of sight.

We’re all different. Yet it would be my hope that anyone facing adversity would be active in searching for solutions to living as normally as possible and finding fulfillment in new areas.

One thing both blind and deaf people can do, though, is cook. So whether you are reading this blog or using Voice Over or Talk Back to read it, I hope you’ll try this recipe. It’s easy, just the kind of stuff we made back in home ec. And, oh, a special thanks in my mom who passed away in 2021–thanks, Mom, for teaching me so much!

Four-Layer Delight

Ingredients and instructions for each layer:

First layer: 1 stick softened (not melted) butter, 1 cup flour (all-purpose or self-rising), 1/2 cup chopped pecans. Mix well and press into the bottom of a 9 x 13 casserole dish. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 10 minutes. Remove and allow to cool for one hour.

Second layer: 1 8 oz. block of cream cheese, softened; 1 cup powdered sugar; 1 cup of Cool Whip. Mix well with mixer and spread on top of cooled crush. I use a rubber spatula for this, dipping it occasionally in water to keep the mixture from sticking. You could do the same with a table knife.

Third layer: 2 small packages of Jello instant pudding mix (lemon, chocolate, pistachio, or butterscotch–I use lemon) and 3 cups of milk. Beat well and spread on top of cream cheese layer.

Fourth layer: Cool whip and if desired sprinkle pecans on top. Cover and keep in refrigerator.

Dreams vs. goals, and looking forward vs. working toward.

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

I did this sketch years ago, and it is supposed to be Elvis as a child and Elvis as a. young adult. I called it “the boy within the man.” In my opinion, Elvis stayed a boy in many ways, but that’s another topic. And I’m not sure you can even tell it’s Elvis, but trust me, that’s who it is supposed to look like.

The reason for posting this photo is because, in many ways, Elvis represents the American dream. Rags to riches, obscurity to fame, everything in the world a man could want…but was that really true?

Like many celebrities, Elvis achieved but ended up unhappy. No, he didn’t become a serious actor like he wanted to do. No, he was never a part of a gospel quartet, which was his first dream. But he had money, friends, and fame, and we can’t understand what drove him to escape reality by taking medications that made him sleep and other medications that made him stay awake.

He, like some, couldn’t handle life once his dream was realized. He could not be happy without a goal.

What is the difference between the two? I think it is that a dream is the big picture, and a goal is one of the steps taken to achieve that goal. For instance, you want to lose 20 pounds, meaning the dream is to drop at least one clothing size or improve your blood pressure or whatever. A goal to go along with that dream is to begin a walking program until you are walking three miles most days. You start with one mile and push yourself until you are comfortable with that. You increase gradually until you are able to walk three miles with ease. But you’ve only lost seven pounds at that point. You’ve achieved your goal without realizing your dream–yet.

Our oldest son and part of his family ate supper with us last night, and we (my husband and I) were talking about how different life is at our age. When I said “You have nothing left to work toward because you’ve achieved your goals,” my son thought I was being negative and saying something like, “There’s nothing to look forward to.”

No, there are plenty of things to look forward to. Being with family, seeing friends, taking trips, and even (for me) an in-person shopping experience at Walmart. Don’t laugh. I live in a small town. It really is an occasional treat but only because I seldom go.

When you’re raising your children and working in careers that are maybe not always what you had hoped they would be, it is easy to feel stuck and discouraged. Retirement and being debt-free can seem a long time away, and you may have to push yourself at times to keep on keeping on. You’re tired from too much busyness, or you’re worried about your children, or you’re living in the sandwich generation, meaning you’re dealing with children and aging parents, all of whom need your help.

You are always working toward something, not necessarily looking forward to it.

I’m the kind of person who needs something to work toward. Whether it’s preparing for a walk/run for St. Jude or working on a writing project or watching educational programs on the History Channel and that sort of thing, I am happiest when I’m pushing myself to accomplish or to learn. Yes, I always loved school. Sure, I looked forward to breaks, and no, I didn’t love Algebra 2 or geometry, but I loved to learn and (believe it or not) to be sociable.

When I was teaching, we always encouraged students to have dreams, but maybe we didn’t do as good a job of showing them how to set goals to work toward those dreams. And maybe we didn’t do a good job of encouraging them to have a Plan B, C, and even D in case those dreams didn’t work out. After all, only a very small number of athletes make it to the professional leagues, and while Sally may have a beautiful singing voice, the likelihood of her becoming rich and famous is slim. Go ahead, Sally, give it your best, but discover something else you love to do that is more achievable and can fulfill you in different ways.

Dreams are dreams. Goals are practical. Working towards something is not the same as looking forward to it. The people who understand those concepts and adjust accordingly are more likely to be content. The ones who don’t may end up like Elvis and others who find little joy in life once they’ve found wealth or fame.

Mom’s homemade ice cream…it’s still my favorite

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Mom loved being a mother and a housewife. When I was growing up, she babysat other people’s children just so I wouldn’t have to go to a baby-sitter. Until I was ten, I had multiple “siblings,” but Cindy was a constant who occasionally spent the night and was even the flower girl in my brother’s wedding.

Mom was an immaculate housekeeper. She used to say that some people couldn’t help being poor, but anybody, rich or poor, could be clean. In the 1960s, housework was more difficult than it is today, especially laundry.

Part of her love of being a housewife revolved around her love of cooking and baking. We never had much junk food in our house. We never had soft drinks on hand, even when I was a teen-ager, and chips were seldom purchased. Freshly popped popcorn (on the stove), though, was a regular part of our lives because my dad loved it and wanted to eat it almost every night. He also expected sweets to be available at all times, and an evening meal without dessert was taboo. So Mom baked a lot.

Did I mention my dad was six feet four inches tall and weighed a whopping 165 or 170 pounds until he got into his sixties when he ballooned all the way up to maybe 200 pounds? He had an enormous appetite and was able to eat all he wanted. People were so jealous of him!

Before electric ice cream freezers, we used a hand-cranking wooden bucket style that required some kid to sit on a towel placed on top while an adult turned the handle. We were pretty excited when electric freezers came along!

Mom’s Homemade Vanilla Ice cream

3 large cans Carnation milk

1/2 gallon whole milk

3 cups sugar

1 tablespoon vanilla flavoring

six junkets (good luck finding them!)

Instructions:

Dissolve junkets in one cup of warm milk. While junkets are dissolving, mix all other ingredients with a hand mixer. Add milk/junket mixture and beat well until frothy. Pour into ice cream freezer and follow instructions for freezing. Usually you must purchase a bag or two of ice and ice cream salt to place around the metal container and add ice and salt at intervals until ice cream is ready. The electric freezers usually stop turning once the ice cream is ready.

Top with any toppings if desired. Enjoy!

Philadelphia on July 4th–and a delicious blueberry bread recipe

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Let’s face it. It’s hard to get much more American than attending a baseball game on July 4 in the city that was the birthplace of our nation. Long before “The Star Spangled Banner” was penned by Francis Scott Key, a group of brave and forward-thinking men embarked upon a human experiment that resulted in a country still thriving today.

True, we have our problems. True, it is a paradox that the very men who were promoting the concept of freedom did not see the injustice of slavery and its ramifications. True, those men did not understand that women were of equal intelligence and not to be treated as property, but their mindset was common to the culture of the times. We can be grateful that times have changed, and freedom is a concept to be embraced by all.

We’d never been to Philadelphia, and it was never on my list of places I desired to go. It was, however, interesting and enjoyable. We did the “hop-on, hop-off” tour and saw places like Independence Hall, the Congressional Hall where John Adams was sworn in as president, the Liberty Bell, the Betsy Ross house, and other sites. We ate Philly cheesesteak sandwiches (after all, we were in Philly, so you kind of have to do that) at the Reading Terminal Market and bought ice cream at the nation’s longest continuous ice cream shop.The sandwich? Really good. The ice cream? Nothing exceptional.

On Friday, July 4, we walked a few feet from our hotel to board the subway that took us straight to the ballpark. This was our third ballgame of the week. We’d been in Pittsburgh Monday and Tuesday, where my husband, a lifelong Pirates fan, was thrilled to witness his team beat the Cardinals both games. We live in Cardinals country, so he takes a lot of abuse for being a Pirates fan.

Back to the Phillies game. I’m not a baseball fan, although I’ve attended many games and watched a few on TV over the years, so I can’t describe any particulars. However, I thought it was pretty cool to be participating in a stereotypical American activity. And just as I’d had to eat the Philly cheesesteak sandwich, I felt obligated to have a hot dog, although I usually avoid that type of food. I usually avoid red meat, also, but hey, I was on vacation.

Before the 7th inning stretch, a woman sang “God Bless America.” Unlike the national anthem, during which time people stood and listened, the crowd sang along with her. They continued to sing (of course) when it was time for “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” We had conversations with those sitting near us. The people of Philadelphia truly were friendly.

Would I want to go back to Philadelphia? Probably not. It was a good one-time visit, but there are too many other bucket-list places I want to visit. I don’t even really care about trips to the Florida/Alabama beaches because I’ve been there so much. I want to see something different. So I guess I’m saying at this stage of my life, I’m not interested in repeating experiences. I’m about new ones.

Although time at the beach with my family would be okay because I’d be with them. That would be my focus, not the beach itself.

Maybe you’ve taken trips that surprised you or trips that disappointed you. Maybe you’ve taken trips you’d want to repeat or trips you never want to experience again. And maybe you don’t care about travel at all, which is fine. We’re all different.

But I’ll always remember this particular July 4th as the most patriotic one I have ever experienced. That make sit special.

Something else that’s special is this delicious blueberry bread I discovered in 2012 when my dad was in hospice care and people from church were bringing us food. When we tried this, I had to have the recipe, and I’ve been making it regularly ever since. I know an apple pie or homemade ice cream recipe might be more “American,” but I like this better. I hope you enjoy it!

Blueberry Bread

Ingredients:

1 cup roasted chopped pecans (optional)

1 slightly heaping cup of sugar

2 cups self-rising flour

1 cup frozen blueberries

1 cup orange juice

1 egg

1/4 cup oil

1 teaspoon softened butter

Instructions:

If you plan to use pecans, place one cup of chopped pecans in a baking dish and roast in a 350 degree oven for 10 minutes. Allow to cool.

Stir together sugar and flour. In a separate bowl, place frozen blueberries and add just enough of the sugar/flour mixture to coat. Set aside. Add egg, orange juice, oil, and softened butter to the sugar/flour mixture and stir well. Add pecan pieces (optionalL).

Using a colander held above this mixture, pour blueberries into colander and allow the extra sugar/flour mixture to be added. Stir again.

In a loaf (glass or metal) pan that has been sprayed with cooking oil, pour half the batter. Place half the frozen blueberries on top of this layer. Add the rest of the batter and place the remaining blueberries on top. Bake at 350 for 55 minutes.

This makes a great dessert or breakfast treat.

Some people don’t want to be independent…and a crockpot chicken and dressing recipe

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Sedona, Arizona. Nothing to do with my blog today, but maybe I can make a connection. We’ll see. I may figure it out while I’m writing.

As you know, one of my missions in life these days is to inform and educate people about vision loss. If I were to have a mission statement, it would read something like this: To educate the general public, caregivers, and those new to vision loss about ways to live as independently as possible and to provide encouragement and emotional support to those dealing with a new normal.

That’s why I wrote the book Learning to Live with Vision Loss. That’s why I share my story and spread the word about the aids, devices, and technology I use to do as many things as I can. And that is why my retina specialist sometimes contacts me about someone he’d like for me to talk to about these things.

The truth is, though, some people I’ve talked with don’t share my need for independence. Some are perfectly content with allowing others to do things for them. Some are intimidated by the technology. Some can’t afford the devices. And some are in the valley of depression and don’t want to accept what is happening to them.

I understand all of that. Well, sort of. Technology can be frustrating. Spending money on a device that will likely only last five or six years makes me pause and wonder if the expense is worth it. And I definitely get the valley of depression. After over five years, I still fall into it at times. But I climb out much more quickly than before.

But I do not want to be dependent on anyone else any more than I absolutely have to. I have to depend on others to drive me places, and oh, how I hate that. I hate it for many reasons. One is the limitation of not being able to go and do whenever I want to go and do. I miss running errands. Yes, I truly do. I hate not being able to go places to help others when I want.

“But you have a husband,” you say. “He can drive you where you want to go.”

Yes, he can. But he has his own interests and his own activities. He is not always around, and even if he were, I’m not the type to expect him to go whenever I want to go. His life is busier than mine, and I just cannot be that person who demands. He would do it, I know. But I’m too independent. I’m the kind of person who would never ask someone to go with me to an event I know they wouldn’t enjoy. Knowing they are not enjoying it would dampen my enjoyment, you know?

Back to the independence thing. I’m not talking about people being happy alone. That’s great if you can live like that. If I lived alone, I would still need social connections. I would need to go to church, to social activities, to see friends and family. No, what I mean about independence is doing things for myself instead of expecting others to do them.

That is what my book is about. If you have been diagnosed with the beginnings of glaucoma or AMD or RP or diabetic retinopathy, I encourage you to start learning now about what you may need to know in the future. Did you know that, on average, most people diagnosed with dry AMD are legally blind within ten years, according to my research? Remember, on average. Did you know that 1/3 of the patients seen by my retina specialist have diabetic retinopathy? Did you know glaucoma is the second leading cause of blindness?

So what does this blog have to do with the photo I posted of Sedona. Well, it just hit me. I was there in 2013, but my son took this photo this week and sent it to me. Here’s the connection: If I ever go back, which I would love to do, I won’t be able to see the beauty of the area as I was able to do in 2013. But thanks to technology, I can see this photo on my large-screen iPad and enjoy its beauty once more.

Technology has changed our lives, not all of it for the better, but for those of us with vision loss, it is a game-changer. Please, if you’re relying on others to do everything for you, reconsider. Sure, they’re happy to help you. But their lives would be easier if they didn’t have to do as much. If you’re a caregiver for someone with vision loss, learn for them, research for them, encourage them to try new things. What will happen to them if something happens to you? They need to be able to fend for themselves, even if they are forced to go to an assisted living facility. Knowledge is power. Give it to them.

I know people who are completely blind (remember, most people labeled “blind” actually have some sight–only ten to 15 percent have no sight at all) who work full-time, live alone, travel alone, navigate large cities alone, and live very full lives. It took training and perseverance, but they overcame. A video you might appreciate on YouTube is Blind Architect 60 Minutes. It’s about 13 minutes long. Watch it. That guy is amazing.

And now for the crockpot chicken and dressing recipe that has absolutely nothing to do with this post except even people with vision loss can cook! Yes, completely blind people can cook. Research it (go to Hadley Helps or YouTube) to find out how. Hadley is a GREAT resource.

Crockpot chicken and dressing recipe

Four or five chicken breasts

1 can cream of chicken soup

1 can cream of celery soup

28 oz. chicken broth

four eggs, boiled and cut into chunks

1/2 onion, chopped

olive oil

canola oil (or more olive oil if preferred)

1 tablespoon sage seasoning

3 cups self-rising cornmeal, white or yellow (not Jiffy mix)

1/2 cup or more of milk

one raw egg

Instructions:

Make cornbread by preheating oven to 425 and pouring enough oil (canola or olive) in the bottom of a skillet. Place skillet in oven to heat while mixing with a spoon the corn meal, raw egg, and milk. Add milk if needed to create a mixture that can be stirred with a spoon while retaining thickness.

Remove skillet from oven, pour in cornbread mixture, and bake in oven for 20 minutes. Remove and allow to cool.

Place chicken breasts in casserole dish or baking pan and bake for 25 minutes at 350 or until internal temperature is 160.

Sauté chopped onion in just enough olive oil for about seven minutes.

Once cornbread is cooled, crumble into large crockpot. Chop the boiled eggs and add. Add cooked onions. Add cream of chicken soup, cream of celery soup, chicken broth, and sage. Stir well, cover, and cook on high for one hour.

Cut cooked chicken breasts into strips or chunks and add to crockpot mixture. Stir in, then set crockpot to low. Cook for two more hours.

This makes enough to feed at least a dozen. Great for potlucks and family get-togethers!

There’s nothing like “old” friends…and coconut pie

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

Yes, this is my senior picture. Yes, it was a LONG time ago. Yes, I’m posting it so those of you who have only known me as an adult can see what I looked like in high school. Also to grab your attention to read my blog, LOL. And yes, there is a coconut pie recipe at the end of this post.

In March of my sixth grade year, my parents and I moved from the Texas to a town in Middle Tennessee. For those of you unfamiliar with Tennessee, our state flag has three stars to represent the three divisions of Tennessee–from the Mississippi River to a section of the Tennessee River is West Tennessee; from there to the time zone change is Middle Tennessee; from there to the eastern border is East Tennessee. West and Middle Tennessee are in the central time zone. East Tennessee, obviously, is in the eastern time zone. Fellow grammar police, please forgive if I should have capitalized the time zones.

The move was a little traumatic for me. I had been in a self-contained sixth grade classroom. My new school changed classes according to the subject. Fortunately, I was with the same group of students as we moved from one class to the other. I made friends through school and church, and while those friendships changed as we grew older and went back and forth, there were two friends who remained constant.

But we went out separate ways. We no longer live in the same town. We don’t see each other that often. But thanks to cell phones, we keep in touch. A couple of days ago, one of them discovered how the three of us can have a group phone call. Yes, at our age, we’re a little slow on technology, so don’t judge.

These two came to see me last fall. I blogged about our trip to Memphis, I think, but they spent time at our house too. And my husband got a full dose of not just the women we are but also the girls we were.

The memories we share, both good and bad, unite us. I can be my true self with them. I am not the Sunday school teacher/retired teacher and principal/mother/grandmother. I am just ME.

Sure, I can be myself with my current friends. I am definitely myself with my family.

But when I’m with them or talking with them, I am 16 again. I laugh in a way I don’t laugh with anybody else. I mean, when (I’ll call her “Sue,” she knows why) texted me the following, I laughed until I cried because I was picturing her saying this. You probably won’t find it as funny, but here’s the text. Note: she is trying to exercise more.

“I read that when you walk, you should engage your core. My core is an old maid and has never been engaged.”

Admit it, that’s pretty funny. The funny story in our phone conversation this week was when Nan and Sue were on a tandem bike years ago and Nan was in the front seat. Hot and struggling and red-faced, she looked back to discover Sue was not peddling at all. I guess she thought she was on a bike taxi…

Laugher is the best medicine, but laughter with cherished friends is like a steroid. It invigorates and makes the world a happier place.

We grew up together. We went through the traumas of adolescence, the excitement of new adventures, and more. We even worked at the same bank at one point. Yes, we had our differences, but we got over them.

I hope everyone has at least one friend like that.

Sue always loved my mom’s homemade coconut pie. So here’s the recipe:

Ingredients:

Two frozen pie shells

1 1/2 cups sugar

two tablespoons flour

3 cups milk (whole or 2%)

6 eggs, whites and yolks separated

1 tablespoon vanilla flavoring

1 pat butter

approximately 1 1/2 cups coconut flakes (adjust to personal taste)

Instructions:

Separate pie crusts and set on counter to thaw.

Separate eggs, placing whites in a metal or glass bowl which can be used to beat the egg whites

In the top pan of a double boiler, mix sugar, flour, milk, and egg yolks with a wooden or silicon spoon. Fill bottom pan 2/3 full of water, and place double boiler, with lid on, on medium high heat. Keep an eye on the water to make sure it doesn’t boil dry. You may have to add more during the cooking process.

Stir mixture occasionally to smooth lumps. While custard is cooking, poke holes in thawed pie crusts with a fork. Place in a pre-heated 350 degree oven for ten minutes. Remove and allow to cool.

Custard mixture is ready when it coats the spoon when lifted out of the mixture. Set off heat and add butter and vanilla flavoring. Stir in 3/4 cup coconut. Pour evenly into pie shells.

Add a dash of salt or cream of tartar to egg whites. Beat on high speed with a mixer until stiff peaks form. Beat in two tablespoons granulated sugar. Spread meringue mixture ont top of custard, then spring remaining coconut on top of each. You may wish to add more coconut. Place in 350 degree oven until meringue is lightly browned. Cool completely before covering and placing in the refrigerator. Chill several hours before serving.

Enjoy with your special friends!

Father’s Day thoughts and chocolate oatmeal cookies

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

No, this isn’t anyone in my family. It’s AI generated. But it serves the purpose. And yes, I do have a recipe at the end of this blog. I think that will become a regular part of my blogging.

This Sunday, millions of men will attend church services, and odds are high they will hear a Father’s Day sermon. But based upon what I’ve heard in the past, that sermon will be nothing like the Mother’s Day sermon. On Mother’s Day, mothers are thanked, glorified, praised…you get the idea. Father’s Day sermons are more like warnings and reprimands. Or the role of earthly fathers is briefly mentioned as the sermon goes on to talk about our Heavenly Father. Which is right and should always be a focus of any worship service, but how about encouraging the earthly fathers who are sacrificing their time, money, and energy for their children?

Our society has evolved from the 1950s “Father Knows Best” or Ward Cleaver to George Jefferson and Archie Bunker (who were always wrong) to Tool Time’s Tim Taylor who was an overgrown boy in a man’s body. Somehow men have become the objects of ridicule, criticism, and jokes.

I know I’m speaking in general, and it’s not always the case. I’ve kidded with people and said the tGod created Adam and then said, “There’s no way this guy can make it on his own. I need to create woman.” But I’m joking. The truth is, the world needs both men and women, and as long as the two work together instead of against each other, the world can be a better place.

With these thoughts in mind, then, I choose to blog today about the importance and value of fathers who are doing their best to raise children and be there for their adult children.

To all the dads who stayed up late on Christmas Eve working on the “some assembly required” projects, thank you. To the dads who attended every recital, every ballgame, every cheerleading or band competition, thank you. To the dads who worked long and hard to contribute to the family finances, thank you. To the dads who treated and treat your wives well as an example to your children of what a husband should be like, thank you. To the dads who don’t leave all the parenting to the moms and are actively involved in raising their children, thank you. To the single dads raising children on your own, thank you. And, as a Christian, I have to say to the dads who taught their children about faith, thank you.

I could go on and on. Fathers who are being the best fathers they know how to be deserve recognition. Fathers who have abandoned their roles–how sad. They have hurt their children, no doubt, but they may realize someday they have also hurt themselves.

I know that my husband, as the father of a 42-year-old and a 36-year-old, loves his “boys” deeply. Like me, he sees them as the men they have become, but like me, he hasn’t forgotten the children they were. He was always and is always there for them. They know that. They may not say it (you know, you can’t get mushy with a dad, right?), but they know it. And I know they’re grateful.

My dad passed away in 2012. I missed him for a long time. He and I could talk in ways that I was never able to do with my mom. She and I had a different dynamic. I was such a daddy’s girl. He influenced me in so many ways–his work ethic, his devotion to God, his lack of prejudice in a generation that was very prejudiced, and his loyalty to family. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but no one is. Sure, he made some mistakes in parenting as we all do. But he did his best.

It is my hope that you dads will be honored appropriately this Father’s Day. It’s my hope that you will receive the recognition you deserve and the encouragement you need. It is my hope that the fathers who have abandoned their roles, either physically, emotionally, or both, will reconsider and change their ways.

And now for the chocolate oatmeal cookie recipe. This was my mother-in-law’s recipe, and my husband can make it better than I can. He is learning to be quite the cook these days. Enjoy!

Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients

2 cups white sugar

1/2 cup Hershey’s cocoa

1/2 cup milk

1/2 stick unsalted butter

3 cups instant oats

In a saucepan on medium high heat, stir together sugar, cocoa, and milk. Bring to a rolling boil and set off of heat. Add 1/2 stick butter and stir until melted. Gradually stir in oats. Drop by spoonfuls onto waxed paper and allow to cool. Remove from waxed paper and store in airtight container.

Banana pudding, fried green tomatoes, and other foods–how they reflect a culture

by Pam Harris, "blind" writer

This AI generated photo of banana pudding looks nothing like the ones I make. Notice I wrote “ones.” Yes, I’ll have two banana pudding recipes at the end of this blog.

We went to a vegetable stand last week and purchased our first homegrown tomatoes of the season. These, we were told, were grown by the local Amish and grown without using any pesticides. We trusted they were telling the truth. Green tomatoes were available as well, but I held off. That’s usually a once-a-summer treat for us, not a staple.

I know the stereotypes about Southern food are there for a reason. Fried chicken, fried okra, fried potatoes—I grew up with my mom cooking all that. In my adult years and with my focus on being healthy, I got away from frying foods. It only happens occasionally, and we’ve become so unaccustomed to eating them, the food sits heavy afterwards.

I think you can understand a culture by listening to their language and by noticing their foods. People along the coast eat more seafood for obvious reasons. Here in the agrarian South, recipes are a throwback to earlier generations who lived on farms and raised almost everything they ate.

So why is banana pudding considered a Southern creation? Nobody I know has banana trees. A town about ten miles from us has an annual Banana Festival. In Tennessee/Kentucky? Why?

Bananas were first brought to the New World in the 1500s from Central America, according to what Alexa told me. Obviously they kept being brought in.

Before I continue about food, however, let’s talk about Florida. Most of us in the South don’t consider Florida to be sSouthern. Sure, we flock there on spring break, summer vacation, and fall break because the panhandle has the most accessible beaches, but to include them in the Southern culture is somewhat of a stretch. Feel free to agree or disagree. You fellow Southerners outside of Florida know what I’m talking about.

But why a Banana Festival In South Fulton/Fulton? My understanding is a train carrying carloads of bands derailed there years ago, and the town commemorated that event with a festival annually. Locals, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

Okay, back to food. Way back in 2004 or so, some friends came to Memphis from England. We drove down, picked them up, and spent the day showing them the area. We found out they couldn’t find food they felt comfortable eating. Memphis was full of barbecue places, and hamburger spots, but they settled on eating at Cracker Barrel where they felt safe ordering breakfast even though it was lunchtime.

I don’t know how they would have reacted to Cajun food in Louisiana. A side note here–the best gumbo I’ve ever had was at Bullfish Grill in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Go figure.

In the 1990s, our next-door neighbors were from Michigan. We had so much fun with them. Sandy and I walked together regularly, the kids played together, and we got together to play cards on a regular basis. One night they invited us and others over for a milk can dinner. Dave dug out a fire pit in their back yard. Sandy filled a huge milk can with cabbage that had been quartered, whole onions minus the peal, and bratwurst (I think) on top. Dave had drilled a hole in the top of the milk can to allow steam to escape, and they cooked the food over the fire for hours. She prepared corn on the cob on the side, and it was all delicious. The bratwurst spices had seasoned the cabbage and onions, and it truly was delicious.

But they’d never had okra. So I introduced them to that. I can’t remember if they liked it or not.

In December 1982, I was expecting our first child, and I was craving watermelon. Guess what? No grocery store sold watermelon because it was out of season. These days we can buy shipped-in watermelons year-round, but to me they’re never as good as the ones picked ripe and sold soon afterwards. We always think Missouri melons are the best, although we did buy one from Florida the other day that was very good.

In the 1960s, my family lived in Arizona, but we came back to Tennessee every summer to see “the folks.” Mom was going to make tacos for everyone, but there was no grocery store in town that sold tortillas, so she was unable to do so.

How times have changed. I’m glad they have. But there are still regional differences. The Mexican food I grew up with in Arizona is nothing like the Mexican food in the local restaurants, and no doubt The Back Porch in Destin far exceeds any seafood sold here. That’s okay. Diversity is not a bad thing.

As I write this, white beans (also known as Great Northern beans or soup beans in the South) are cooking in a small crockpot. We’re having battered and baked cod fillets for supper (yes, in our area the evening meal is called “supper,” a throwback to the English/Irish/Scottish heritage of the South) and roasted sweet potatoes to go with them while we drink unsweetened, decaffeinated tea. Bet you thought all Southerners drink sweet tea. Wrong.

But I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like banana pudding. So here are my two recipes. The first is the one I learned to make from my mom. The second is the easy, quick one I learned from a friend.

Custard Banana Pudding

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups sugar

3 cups milk (I use 2%; whole milk will work great, not 1%)

2 tablespoons flour

five eggs, separated

1 teaspoon butter

1 tablespoon vanilla flavoring

3 to 4 bananas

vanilla wafers

Beat egg yolks in a small bowl with a whisk or folk to combine. In the top pan of a double boiler, combine sugar, flour, milk, and eggs. Stir well or use whisk to combine. Add water to 2/3 full of bottom pot and set top on top. Place lid on top and boil until custard thickens. Stir periodically. You may have to add more water to the bottom pot.

When thickened to the point the custard clings to the spoon when lifted out, take off the heat and add butter and vanilla. Allow to cool for ten or fifteen minutes, then transfer mixture to the refrigerator to chill at least an hour.

Once the custard is chilled, place layer of vanilla wafers in bottom of a 9×9 casserole dish or similar dimensions, a layer of sliced bananas, and a layer of the chilled pudding mixture. Continue until all the pudding mixture has been used. Top with vanilla wafers placed face down.

Save the egg whites for another use, or if you desire meringue, don’t top with vanilla wafers. Beat eggs whites until stiff. Add 2 tablespoons sugar and beat again. Spread on top of pudding using a rubber spatula and place in a 350 oven for about ten minutes or until the meringue is lightly browned. Remove from oven, cool, then chill until time to serve.

Now for the simple one!

Easy banana pudding

One large box instant vanilla pudding

3 cups milk

One can sweetened condensed milk

One 8 oz. container Cool Whip

3 to 4 bananas

vanilla wafers

Beat instant pudding and milk for two minutes. Stir in condensed milk and Cool Whip. (I use a rubber spatula.) Layer vanilla wafers, sliced bangs, and pudding mixture in a casserole dish or large bowl and repeat process until all the pudding mixture has been used. Top with vanilla wafers placed face down.

My favorite is the old-fashioned custard recipe. My husband likes the easy one the best. Hope you enjoy one of them!