Putting the Oyster on the Cracker?

I have to get this out there, if only because no matter the audience, I end up looking insane.

If I ask anyone in Texas why they server Crackers with Oysters, I get a funny look – If I tell anyone anywhere else, especially New England, that I have eaten Oysters on Crackers, I get a funny look.

The question was, and remains, what the hell are the Saltines for?

Yes, that is all Tabasco Sauce … They age it in Barrels sealed with Salt. I’m betting the Ark of the Covenant is buried in there somewhere also.

In 2016 I decided to take the bike for a ride outside of Houston Texas. I was back in town, after traveling a big loop that encompassed Avery Island LA (Mcilhenny Tabasco Plant), up to Monroe to see the Duck Dynasty Operation, onto Shreveport, and finally dipping deep south again to Houston – in one day.

Sunburned, dehydrated, and beaten up, all I wanted was some Crawfish, and all I knew was they served them at a joint named ‘Wolfies’.

Standing at the gas station, the GPS said Wolfies was 4 miles away, as I was looking across the street at … yea, Wolfies. I would later find out there were two locations, so screw it let’s find the other one.

There I am on the bike and apparently on the wrong side of FM 1960. This was the original location, complete with ‘No Guns’ signs everywhere and two armed Guards in the Parking Lot – yes, wave to the Camera.

Not that I noticed it, but I was the ONLY white person there, and all eyes were on me – Do you remember the scene from Animal House asking if they mind if they danced with their Dates? Except I WOULD mind if they danced with my date, because I was afraid *I* was the date.

Luckily Fawn Liebowitz was killed in a massive kiln explosion making me an Ashtray

I sat at the only seat in the house, and the guy next to me gets up and leaves. I ask the woman next to him what happened, and she rather apologetically explained it’s not his fault, he doesn’t like white people. So of course, I buy her a drink – WELL, it turns out the guy was her boyfriend, and he is now at the other end of the bar with his buddies planning my demise no doubt – chance of a drive by just went up ….. 96%

“Why yes, may I order a dozen Blue Point Oysters?”

People are looking at me as if to say ‘this dudes crazy!’ – or at least that’s how it felt. I think it’s pretty common knowledge I don’t give a shit about such things, but then again, some people do. Que sera sera, I’m hungry – so I buy the young lady and I another Beer.

Oh boy, here comes that delicious platter of … Saltine Crackers?

You see, in New England you eat the Oyster out of the shell, so I’m thinking “What’s with the Crackers? What do you do with them? Are they calling me a Cracker? Fuckers (I knew that wasn’t the case, but still)

I mean what is the point?

I pay the bill, (they were delicious by the way) and left – I even said night to the guy on my way out, but he must have been eating because he didn’t say anything back, and manners dictate not eating with your mouth full.

No cars following me into the county, no being found in a roadside ditch, or in the trunk of a car at the Airport Parking Garage. It was the end to a long 24 hours on the road.

Skip ahead to DAY TWO … the other Wolfies.

Ah yes … Crawfish

So this was the opposite – daylight, huge amounts of glass, and a Waitstaff that clearly needed to go walk around the parking lot a bit – my Servers legs were so white they were searing my Corneas. Come on Folks, go make some Vitamin D, So … more Oysters AND Crackers

She asked me to repeat myself a few times until I realized she was making fun of my accent, trying to ask Her ‘da crackaghs, whats wit da crackaghs?” – it was explained that you put the Oyster on the Cracker … Savages! Who puts a 2-dollar Oyster on a Saltine?? “Ya poot da oystagh on da crackagh?” I asked incredulously, and she laughed and laughed and laughed … time for more Beer. This bitch is going to down.

Soup, whatever, they still suck

Apparently Gulf Oysters grow to the size of your girlfriends tongue when the waters get warm – so eating them is like french kissing your girl, except you bite her tongue off and swallow it with horseradish and a touch of Cocktail Sauce. To combat the gag reflex of this giant snot rocket hitting the back of your throat, they serve it on a Cracker.

Ahhhhh Science, now I see – next time I’m getting a Heddy, and someone’s having issues, I will have to remember to bring Saltines. Magic.

So that is why they put Oysters on Crackers here – like salting Watermelon, it’s new to me, not to them, and pretty darn good either way.

Ernie you were a Kid?

Ernie you were a kid?

Fuck YEA! – for better or worse.

I grew up in Woburn Massachusetts – I was ten when I lived there. How any of us survived baffles me to this day.

Don’t be a pussy they said, impress Ellen Foley they said … Crap

There was nothing resembling today’s world – We had no bicycle helmets, and made jumps for our Big Wheels with bricks and boards – we did everything we could to shorten our life span.

My daughter thought it funny we didn’t have a computer – Well, we also didn’t have cable, cell phones, microwave ovens, remote controls, car starters – the list goes on and on – not that we were poor, that stuff just didn’t exist yet.

Our first microwave was the size of a Subaru, and my parents found great joy in how it heated water as the lights dimmed in the house, and christian broadcasting could be heard on our fillings. It was the perfect device for turning a nice pork chop, into a gray one.

Fact is, technology consisted off ‘turn that to Channel 5’ because we had EIGHT channels – yea EIGHT. They went off the air at midnight, with a giant Indian Head test pattern, only to re-introduce the channel each morning at six to start their broadcast day

It used to be blue … my childhood home … Howard Tree intact (you can’t kill it)

A typical day in the life of ten year old Mike, Tommy Skeffington, and Johnny Lundine was a pile of bikes in the front yard – Johnny’s Mom had the best frosted pop tarts so I always targeted her kitchen. We didn’t have video games, hell, the TV was black and white in the homes making enough cash to own one, and weighing several hundred pounds (console television)

During the week, we walked to School with bread bags over our feet to keep them dry in the Winter, and handmade mittens – you know, the ones that made snow stick to them so your friends could nail you with snowballs stuck to the yarn?

Our parents used to make a lot of our things – was it an issue of money or old values? Who knew, not this Kid – and it didn’t matter.

Why am I growing a second head … I don’t know, shut up and drink your fucking water!

We would catch Crawfish in the creek, only to find the Woburn Water was part of the Tannery cover portrayed in “A Civil Action”.

My Parents would move us to Billerica in the coming years, only to find out the Rail Yard we played in (Iron Horse Park), and the town dump were highly toxic – both would later to be declared an EPA Superfund Sites in my late teens.

During weekends, we caught frogs and snakes, made go-karts out of scraps of old wood with nails as axles, and threw things off of Blueberry Hill Mountain. That was a Quarry with walls about 400’ high, and barely a fence to keep you off the edge. I collected Blueberries there, and Mom would make Blueberry Buckle (an amazing sugary coffee cake loaded with blueberries)

Blueberry Buckle – except it was my Mothers, so it always tasted BETTER

The cliff was awesome at ten years old – not as much fun as the busy railroad tracks in Winchester, but what can you do. We would make little planes and throw them from the ledge. They always crashed, but at the bottom was a Breyers Plant (or something along those lines) and they, on schedule, used to dump the ice cream bars that didn’t pass muster into the Dumpster. You can imagine who was waiting patiently with his friends 😀 (and how I ended up looking this way)

Our swamp with blown cattails in winter time – awesome torches for ten year olds

Things for us were NOT safe. No seat-belts in the cars, smoking in public places (meaning on planes, and everywhere else), fighting for the back seat of the beach wagon – my Dad used to collect Cattails (or “Cat OR Nine Tails” as we called them) from the swamp nearby, soak them in paint thinner, light them and hand them out. We would run around the neighborhood unsupervised with burning Tiki torches until the top burned off, and then grab another.

When Woburn sprayed for mosquitoes, it was a pickup truck with a huge buzzing sprayer off the back – THICK clouds of insecticide would make the streets impassable for 5-10 minutes at a time. I mean it literally looked like thick fog (it was DDT that was later banned). Every kid in the neighborhood would go play in the ‘fog’ until it looped back and ran over Johnny Boggs.

Johnny was a dick from Spring Court who stole my sisters jump rope, and set it on fire at the Green Street Pool – but that’s history now – I kicked his ass for that one, weeks earlier. NOBODY screwed with my Sisters.

Horn Pond, Woburn Massachusetts (Thank you Joe Nicosia)

With no electronics, games, or the like, we played cops and robbers, baseball, climbed trees, and ate dirt. Nana Penny lived down the hill, she would give us snacks and we would sit with her a while. Sometimes we ventured to Horn Pond – Dad’s friend Joe Nicosia would take us for long walks with a tennis ball to throw. We played ‘King of the Mountain’ at the Green Street Pool, made a mess with Super Elastic Bubble Plastic, and turned every cardboard box we could find into a Spaceship.

My Dad introduce me (and sometimes my friends) to model trains, rocketry, the wonders of carbon paper, bee keeping, wine making, and the Post Office (he would take me to work sometimes).

My Mother was a Nurse with three young kids and a limited budget – she would make us Porcupine Meatballs, American Chop Suey, and a once a month treat – that’s right, Chinese Food because we were convinced the Chinese ate that way. I’m pretty sure my blue collar parents didn’t have a lot of money, but damn, we ate well,and had a good place to live.

Street lights coming on meant Dinner time, and you better be running – shoes off at the mud porch, and the entire family talking about their day together without TV, phones, games or other distractions. Sometimes that was a good thing – other times *shrug* meh not so good. We had a habit of wandering MILES from home, and sometimes, we were spotted. It happens.

Still, with all that, times have changed – yes, we survived, and we all moved out of the neighborhood eventually. My parents would buy their dream home in Billerica, and I would never see my friends again.

Decades later, seeing the neighborhood, I’m just as happy they did leave Woburn – nothing is ever as good as you remember, and this was no different. I still sometimes wonder what ever happened to Ellen Foley, and JoAnn Piezo. I was in love with them, but I was ten, I didn’t know why.

Que Sera Sera … every day is a chance at new memories. Good times – fingers and toes intact, no helmet, pass the bowl of carcinogens please …

Pick a Side … Please

I’m adding content before I get to the real stuff – the escape from New England, the Javelina Attack, and the hilarious shit happening the past few years.

Now, perhaps I’m being a dick here – you tell me. It was explained to me by a friend of mine who shall remain nameless, that she likes to switch off sides of the bed here and there. WHAT? My reality came crashing down in one fell swoop – that shit’s not natural.

Meaning, while I hog the left side, she wanted to sleep there, but generally crashes on the right. I admit I couldn’t sleep following this horrible discovery. Maybe throw her a used t-shirt from the gym? wrap it around a wind up clock so it sounds like a heartbeat?

WHO doesn’t have a side of the bed? I mean I bought a King so I could sleep DIAGONALLY if I wanted, but someone who doesn’t have a side they sleep on?

I’ve managed to navigate through it all – not moving so much overnight so I don’t rip a tremendous fart and dutch oven anyone, learning to sleep without covers and not bitch about it, perfecting the slow roll and drop so as not to wake anyone, holding my bladder so god forbid I don’t wake up the dogs, making sure the toilet is porcelain white before company arrives, putting both socks in the SAME place so I could sneak out without waking her (and yea this is MY house we are talking about) but THIS … this could be a deal breaker.

Does anyone else feel my pain? I’m beside myself (on the right side of the bed it seems AGAIN) and it’s a little freaky. What’s next, ketchup on the scrambled eggs? She doesn’t like coffee and bacon? She uses mayonnaise to ‘butter’ her grilled cheese sandwiches? I’m at a loss.