Simple Southern Fried Chicken

You got to give it to foreigners who bond with good music that is played throughout the day, intertwined with the traditional music of their culture and congealing children with teenagers with adults expressing joy. But for me, this time in my life was all about simplicity, simply as wonderful as frying fresh-killed chicken in a pan. This is about 'dixie', a land where simple things bring more to love and light than loads of cash and false representations of the good times.

I remember hearing the skin of that bird sizzle when it was licked by the hot oil which was splattering its way across the back wall of Bucci's stove. She made sure it splattered there instead of on a child, never on a child. We were not permitted in the kitchen when hot grease was being used to prepare dinner for the family in. She kept us far enough away from danger but kept us close enough when teaching us the mannerisms of culinary arts, etiquette, traditional cultural socializing, and I paid the most attention. Grandma intrigued me, she was so smart and so proud and so loud sometimes yet so caring. So much like my mother that it makes me feel she merged into mom when she passed and I am doubly-blessed.

Anyway learning to add the correct amount of spices after grinding them in your hand, cut vegetables with a diagonal instead of straight cut, fashion your appeal to the meal. Give tothe time, preparation and condiments accompanying thatmain dish and make it a smashing success.These were very important lessons 'dixieland' would teach to its southern ladies. These practices were now forever engrained in my thoughts. This platformserves that which is satiable and satisfactory beyond the imagination, resting on the palatte and sending the recipient into overdue happiness, is so rewarding. I learned the art of attending to the hungry !

This song may never have been really listened to by my grandma and grandpa but I do know my uncle Talik (real name withheld for privacy) cared for Elvis Presley enough to insert this cassette into the machine. Talik listened to stuff with 'another ear' so to speak and this particular song he appreciated with an enthusiasm I admired. He taught me to help myself visualize better what I could learn to once love or find income in producing masterpieces with: my imagination is what he sparked. He taught to appreciate in time. He taught me to grow from the simple things into a rich, complex, magnificent flower standing in a harmony garden with gentle delights and irridescent imagessublety superceding my boredom.

Talik was a hard man to figure out and lots of different songs by various performers assisted me in shedding some light on how to break those walls he built between human interaction and hermitage. The latter alwaysappealed to me because my uncle took life from very simple beginnings to the most extravagant lengths with such ease, and with no-one to help him but himself. He was always in control. I could tell when his voice increased, his chest puffed out and his humor was sharper; but when his appreciation of things could be sensed, I knew his happiness was derived simplyfrom southern fried chicken he had splattering up the back wall of the stove in grandmas kitchen and him coming in to help her clean it up ! What a guy !