Of fifth-graders, height, perception and bacon

Editor’s Note:

This Jottings is a reprint from March 14, 2007. Enjoy.

Are you ready to admit you are not as smart as a fifth-grader?

If you haven’t admitted it yet, perhaps you have missed the tv show, “Are you smarter than a fifth grader?” Thursday nights, primetime.

I had it brought home to me in another way by our fifth grade granddaughter, Savannah Speed.

Her teacher submitted one of Savannah’s poems to “Anthology for Poetry by Young Americans,” and they have chosen it for publication. Savannah’s good friend Danielle Black, same grade, same teacher, will also have a poem in this book of poetry.

I find this poem far deeper than anything, anyone wrote in our entire 1st-to-8th grade school, let alone my fifth grade class.

My family is a tree blowing softly in the wind.

My dad is the wind pushing us along the way.

My mom is the trunk holding us all together.

My sister, Haley, is the branches

telling us what to do.

My brother, Trevor, is the grass

holding us up as we fall to the ground.

My dog, Amber, is the bark

giving us a friend when needed.

And, I am the leaves scattering love!

Savannah was 10 when she wrote it, for gosh sakes.

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So many of us think we have to have an immediate comeback when we hear a story, an incident, gossip, the weather, or whatever. I’m as guilty as anyone, always believing I’m adding supreme brilliance.

Recently, I had one of my truths drowned out by groans. The topic was heights. I said, “The year I was 13, I grew one foot.”

Only to have it topped by, “That’s nothing. I grew two feet in nine months!”

– – – 0 – – –

Out of the pen of State Representative Chuck Moss, Birmingham:

“Funny how the pharmaceutical firms are ‘big drug companies’ when critics are attacking them, but they transform into ‘life science’ ventures when the state is trying to recruit them. It’s like how greedy trial lawyers become public interest attorneys when it’s you who wants to sue someone.”

– – – 0 – – –

For all you critics who say there is nothing but bad news in the papers (and I, at times, have that feeling, too), you haven’t seen this news from McClatchy News Service.

“A little sweet, a little salty, a little smoky. Satisfyingly rich. Chewy or crunchy, depending on the cook’s preference. Good bacon has it all.”

Hey, hey, hey. Rejoice!

“After decades as the pariah of American diets, this old-fashioned staple is back in vogue. Chefs showcase fancy bacon in salads, braise it with poultry, wrap it around fish and sprinkle it in soups.”

Food consultant Bruce Aidells says, “I think bacon is essentially the meat lover’s version of chocolate.”

I feel like adopting Jack Nicholson’s expression in “The Shining,” only applying it to bacon. “I’m back!”

Only with me, it never went anywhere.

Chefs also note that the mention of bacon in the menu description of a dish tends to draw more orders.

There is a precaution in the article, something about moderation.

However, for you who succumbed to the anti-bacon, low-fat notion, what do you order in a deli, LTs?

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