Through An 'Old Timer's' Eyes
By Howard 'Mac' McDonald

Elvis is dead and I don't feel so good myself.

On Monday I had a bowl of oatmeal and for the first time in five days I was able to keep it down. All of the doctors and nurses at the Cabin Kitchen were convinced I had the flu. I have had the flu, before but nothing like this strain.

I believe in the spirit world and since Monday was my mother's birthday, maybe she had something to do with that oatmeal. If she were here today, she would be 108 years old. My mother had more home remedies than a Navajo medicine man. She could make a wart disappear in a couple of days and a high fever subside in less than an hour.

We lived in a very rural area and when some illness came along, you didn't run to the emergency room because there was none. If things got out of hand, she would go a quarter-mile up the hill to my great-great aunt's house to call the doctor. Aunt Louie had the only phone in the community, so she was very popular.

One of Mom's home remedies for a chest cold was a mustard plaster. I remember one of those batches very well, because it left a blister on my chest as big as a dinner plate. The congestion was gone but the blister hung around for a couple of weeks.

Sassafras tea mixed with castor oil was a spring tonic that put a spring in your step, especially when you were running for the outhouse.

If constipation was a problem and the castor oil didn't do the trick, out came the enema bag. That hot soapy water would loosen the barnacles on a battle ship. That mixture would unplug a stopped-up elephant.

Heartburn was eased with a teaspoon of baking soda in a glass of water and an upset stomach was treated with a glass of ginger ale at room temperature.

Her cough syrup was one of my favorites. It was made of hot sugar water, a shot of whiskey mixed with honey. It stopped the cough and you slept all night long.

My mother only got through eighth grade, but she could have debated any Harvardtrained lawyer. Her command of the English language was outstanding. She could work the crossword puzzle in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette in less than three minutes and her handwriting was a thing of beauty.

Music was another thing that came to her without any effort. She could play the piano, organ, guitar, banjo and the mandolin. She could not read music and never had a lesson in her life.

"God Bless America" was one of her favorite songs and she could sing it as beautifully as

Kate Smith. I wonder why none of those genes never carried over to me? I bet the first thing she did when she got to Hheaven was ask for a harp.

Tough as nails, as gentle as a kitten, but tolerated no monkey shines. She could reach around a corner and smack you in the mouth if she heard something that you should not have said. By today's standards she would be in jail for child abuse.

Always there when you needed her with a kind word and a hug to cheer you up when you were down.

I hope they had a party for you up there on Monday, Mom, because in my book you sure deserved one.