Because of my love of country music, I made a new friend! This is from his blog and I am placing every word and picture of it on this site because all of us need to laugh more!
“THE REASON FOR SO MANY DIVORCES BLOG
In case you don;t know me, I am really just an old country boy that lives south of Saint Louis and just north of the Mingo Swamps in southeast Missouri and right in the middle of the Lead Belt. I ain’t got no fancy degrees or anything, but I have been raised by some of the best and brightest country folk around. I am really grateful for that. I really do shine shoes and dang good at it!
Yesterday, I was sitting in our Sunday school class with my good friends and lifelong buddies, Emer and Nosmo and our wives. We are in the couple’s class and we were discussing couples’ ideas and talking about divorce. Most of us have been hitting the 20 plus year mark or so with our lovely brides. Well after church, we all got together for a BBQ at my house.
The subject came up again and I said: I BELIEVE THE REASON FOR SO MANY DIVORCES IS THE LACK OF CAST IRON SKILLETS !!!!
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Yep…you heard it here first folks…THE LACK OF CAST IRON SKILLETS.If you go back in history and take a look when the divorce rate started sky-rocketing, it was about the time that TEFLON came out. Women didn’t realize that as they were throwing out those fine old skillets, they were throwing their marriage away, too. Teflon may won’t let your food or marriage stick but no one knew that back then.
Now, you all are probably thinking, that I mean a woman should COOK I never said that I said it was the lack of cast iron skillets. Cast iron skillets are micro marriage counselors that have been passed along for generations until those new fangled cookware came out.
My Grandma told me the story of my Grandfather coming home late one night from drinking in the taverns. They haven’t been married all that long and Grandma didn’t know he drank like that. She is a smart little lady and instead of acting up and fussing over his drunkenness, she told him politely to go into the kitchen and she would fix him something good to eat and make some coffee.
Well he fell for it and sat down at the kitchen table, with his back turned towards her first mistake She got out her Grandmother’s heirloom Number 9 Griswold cast iron skillet, that she affectionately calls “The Promise Keeper” and with both hands on the handle, she reared back and swung with a force, to hit the fences at Yankee Stadium, to the back of Grandpa’s head. This woman, a third of the size of Babe Ruth rung that skillet so loud, the townspeople came outside, because they thought the church was calling a special late night emergency meeting. They heard the awful lest commotion in the house, up on Billy Goat Hill in Bonne Terre Missouri, that the mature folks still talk about today.
Grandpa wasn’t dead, the alcohol didn’t mask the pain either he crawled through the house faster than Roseanne Barr on a Snickers busted through the front door and fell down the steps and crawled underneath the front porch. Grandma came after him with The Promise Keeper in one hand and an oak mop handle in the other. She poked him back under that porch so far with the mop handle; he thought he worked in the mines again.
Up until this time, she never said one cross word or raised her voice to Grandpa. There she sat on the front porch with that cast iron skillet and the mop handle the neighbors came by carrying coal oil lanterns and asked if everything was alright and where was Orville. In that tiny little voice of hers, she said: “He is under the porch drunk and he ain’t coming out until he promises that he will never do it again.” (Thus the name of the skillet)
Now this happened in late October and the nights gets pretty cool, but Grandma stayed on that front porch and never flinched a muscle until she heard her husband fall off to sleep. Then she would commence to banging the porch with that mop handle.
Finally, my Grandfather came to his senses and PROMISED never to misbehave like that or any other way ever again. Grandpa never did. He attended Church and the Masonic lodge regularly and they raised three kids. Grandpa enjoyed his life and his wife until his death many years later.
And from then on, he always sat on the other side of the table and watched Grandma cook.
I am not advocating domestic violence in anyway, but sometimes country counseling is the best.
“The Promise Keeper” by Mark Easter 06/30/2008
I hope that you enjoyed this if you did. comments and kudos are like tips to a waitress or waiter they are very much appreciated”
