No. 15, Dec. 22, 1967, p. 16

Telling it like it is

When I was a boy growing up in the mountains

When I was a boy growing up in the mountains and streams of Southern Oregon my greatest joy was to eat some of my mothers homemade applesauce with milk. I would go to any lengths to find a bucket of green apples to bring home to my mother so that she would cook me up a batch of applesauce. I loved it so much that she used to let me live on it as long as it lasted. God what joyful days when I could look forward to doing nothing but eating my mothers homemade applesauce all day. Ever since then I've been trying to find some applesauce that was just as good but I never have. It was really her thing. I have time and time again written her for the recipe and then either tried to get one of my wives to make it for me or make it myself. It never turned out the same. It has only occurred to me lately that by the time I got around to eating my mothers applesauce she had been making it for 20 years and she couldn't HELP but have mastered the process by then whether she was ever aware of it at the time or not. The other thing she could make was eggnog. Don't get me wrong, I still love applesauce and milk and I still buy up all the eggnog I can get my hands on and slug it down in sheer ecstasy but it ain't quite the same. Someday I'm going to make a trip back home and I'm gonna have just one more little taste of heaven, m'God, she's been at it for twenty MORE years now, it must REALLY be something else by this time.....

Mel Lyman