Matt Smith, Pioneer Chef

For the past month or so, members of the family have been used as human guinea pigs! My son, Matt Smith, has been exploring the world of Dutch oven camp stove cooking! He's always been a really good cook. He instinctually knows what spices complement each other and his dishes are never bland.

About a month ago he purchased his first Dutch oven at Lodge Outlet Store in historic downtown South Pittsburg, TN. South Pittsburg is world famous, as the home of the annual Martha White & Lodge Cast Iron Cornbread Festival.

In 1896, Joseph Lodge opened the first cast iron factory. It was also called The Blacklock, after Lodge's pastor. The factory has survived by expanding its offerings through the years and is now looking to have a major expansion in the town.

Matt first cooked in this outdoor style with Chris Potts, who works with his boy's scout troop. Once he purchased his first Dutch oven, it's been on!! The pot can be of various sizes, lidded. Charcoal is heated to ash stage, then a certain number are placed beneath and on the lid of the oven. The number of coals and the amount of time the coals are on & under the oven create the desired heat. Here's a photo of the pork tenderloin he cooked. It was marinade injected, then cooked in his 12" Dutch oven.

One night, we had Mountain Man's Breakfast - a casserole of bacon, eggs, onions, cheese, ham bits and other goodies layered and cooked. Sunday Matt treated the Fairview Warrens to 2 big fat hens cooked Dutch oven style & a peach cobbler cooked in his smaller oven. It was yummy!!

Worthless Information You'll Never Need to Know

My husband has an occasional chuckle at my expense! As he says, my brain is filled up with bits of worthless information you'll never need to know. Well, maybe if you're a contestant on Jeopardy it might come in handy!

Last year, as I was digging up some information for my daughter to present on her Cotton Pickin' Days here in quaint little Stevenson, Alabama I traipsed off to the park to look over the old steam engine mounted there. It's just a remnant now, but it once powered the Stevenson Gin Company way back in the day when cotton was ginned here at home. It's a massive structure, with an impressive flywheel that is at least 7' in diameter. I found an embossed name on it - Nagel Corliss.

Off I go on a Google-fest to find out about the Nagel-Corliss Company. It's one of those cases where it was once Nagle, then it merged with Corliss, then it was just Corliss. You get the drift. I can't get close enough to the one that powers the Incline in St. Elmo to know if it's a N-C!! Suffice to say that is where grandson stands, watching through the plexi-glass as that huge engine turns the piston and moves that cable to carry the Incline up Looksout Mountain.

Here's a look at a Nagel-Corliss.   http://www.ctamachinery.com/photo-essays-old-website/a-nagle-corliss-engine-in.html

Anyway, my grandson Brody & I YouTubed steam engines and ran across Jay Leno's Garage. I must have been a grease monkey in my previous life, because this stuff fascinates me!! He has some old steam engines that are just awesome! In watching those I learned the origins of a slang term used now - balls out. Now, don't get all huffed up until you hear what that means. Apparently, when the engine thingy revs up inside, there are these rods with balls on the ends of them that hang down. As steam builds and the engine revs, the arms rise up. At full speed, the rods are fully extended and the balls stand straight out. Balls Out. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zoBWAE0win0

When doing an article for the Heritage of Lincoln County, Tennessee I wanted to submit a story about an old cotton/grist mill that was in the Warren family. It was the Warren Mill at Oregon (Flintville) TN. I drug Tommy down there one day, to the fish hatchery. It's a fish hatchery now - they hatch off trout and replenish the streams. On the hatchery site are the remains of the Warren Mill. We walked back to the remains of the dam which is partially standing. The mill race led out from the dammed up site along the hillside. This would probably have been lined with rough lumber, so the water didn't absorb back into the earth. It travelled a good way before making a 90 degree angle above where the waterwheel would have stood. This was a very large overshot wheel that turned the cogs to turn the engine which powered the mill. The water would drop through a gate into the buckets of the water wheel to make it turn. This motion then turned the inner workings of the engine.

Historical documents showed the mill employed quite a few people. Back then I would wager some were children. There were no child laws in place and kids were valued for their tiny hands that would fit into the machines to untangle yarn. Many a child was maimed for life in this way. At the hatchery a young man showed me the photos of the dam, waterwheel, etc before it was all razed to expand the hatchery. You can still walk the foundation, the millrace, hear the water rushing underground and see the indentation in the hillside where the beautiful waterwheel once labored.

My imagination is pretty good, but I had to visualize how it works. Again dragging hubby along, we go just up the road on Hwy 64 to Falls Mill at Belvidere, TN. This is a gorgeous old grist mill which has been meticulously restored by John Lovett. www.fallsmill.com is the site. We walked the entire site, asking questions as we go, so I can fully understand the former workings of the Warren Mill. It's a beautiful mill and would make a wonderful day trip. The beautiful stream and waterfall that fuels it is spectacular!

My oldest grandson already has the same curiosity I do about these things. I believe the little one will as well, as he grows. And I hope to be able to take them to these places - to touch, to feel, to question! I want them to ask How Does This Work, so that they too will be full of Worthless Information You'll Never Need to Know!!! Trust me, there's plenty more where this is stored!!

Ode to Teachers.. or is it Owed?

Today was the first day of classes here in Jackson County, Alabama. My oldest grandson started 4th grade today, and where have the years gone? I'm still waiting for daughter to post his smiling face early this morning. I'll share it when she does. Or not.

I've been enjoying everyone's pictures of their Little Darlings going back to school, but something is missing. Where are the other kids? You know, the one's who cry and cling to the leg as you walk away? Not saying mine did that, just saying. Surely kids still do that??

I remember those sweet days of summer's end, when I took my own sweet babies down those long halls at Stevenson Elementary School. Moms I knew would say "I'm so *@%$# glad mine are going back to school!!" I always felt like an outsider, because I enjoyed my Little Darlings and was never ready for them to go back. I'm weird like that. At least I felt weird, because I seemed to be the only Mom not feeling that way!

Yesterday, I was looking at all the pictures of the room of a kindergarten teacher named Lauren Lackey. It was phenomenal, colorful, just the kind of space that made a kid's imagination blossom! You could literally feel the love emanating from those pictures of her room! Brody had some rooms like that - imaginative & happy places that truly showed how much the teacher cared! Gosh, some days I would love to be a kindergarten teacher just so I could decorate the room!!  Not really, I'm not "teacher material".

 So many of my kids' teachers hold a special place in my heart. You knew they taught because they loved to teach. Because they really liked kids! Maybe even because that was what they were called to do. There was the rare Doozie who really wasn't cut out to be a teacher, maybe more a prison guard? LOL!! All kidding aside, I do believe most of them loved their profession and loved "their" kids.

 I actually still remember my schools days, which began just down the hill from my house at Fairview Elementary School. Home of the Fairview Bobcats!! Mrs. Bushey was the librarian, and the stuffed bobcat stood sentinel over Dick & Jane, there in the library. That bobcat was actually killed on the grounds when the school was being built. If I close my eyes, I can still see him.

 Mrs. Koger was my 1st grade teacher. She was vertically challenged & what we would now call "elderly". I loved her! She was warm and kind, but she would whack your palm with a ruler if you messed up. I can still smell that white paste you dobbed out of the jar with the orange lid scoopy thingy! And we didn't have $150 worth of supplies we lugged in on that first day. We had our 1st grade tablet, our big fat 1st grade pencil, some little scissors that wouldn't cut hot butter & an 8 pack of Crayolas. That was pretty much it. Oh, and lunch money.  Fish on Friday, dished out by Mrs. Noblitt & Mrs. Tudors.

 I can recall so many teachers from that school, and in a positive light. Ms. Beatty, Smith, Higginbotham, Sloan, Ezell, Rohke - the list goes on. And Mr. Barrett, the PE teacher. Because back then you had real PE - work up a sweat PE - chin-ups PE. I was always so jealous of Debbie Brodie back then, because she was the best female athlete in school!! I remember Beth Cartee was going to whip my ass after school one day, because she had a crush on Morris Johnson and she thought I had a crush on him. She really scared the bejeebers out of me, because she could do this vibrating thing with her eyes. Anyway, the fight never happened, thank God!

 Mr. Barrett taught 6th grade, if I remember correctly. We had to memorize the Sportsman's Creed and the periodic table. He gave me my first, and only, paddling. Yes, quiet little Joy. He had a class rule that you raised your hand to get up. We're all completing papers, and he says "When you're finished, put your papers on my desk". So I did. So did Joe Duvall & Sammy Carter. That was permission, in my book. Well..  me, Sammy & Joe took a paddling over that. Pfffft. I think that was the first time I was ready to protest the injustices of the world!! (btw, anyone else in Fairview remember when Joe Duvall rode his bicycle nekkid down Jenkins Road??)...

 I could ramble on forever, mentioning Wally Crane at Rossville Jr High, Mr. Roberts & Ms. Emerson at High School. Mary Knight & Mrs. Houston, 2 of the toughest PE teachers ever!! Mrs. Arledge, so many..  too many to possibly mention all. But all positive influences in my life. All working in one of the least appreciated professions, IMHO. All helping me become the best I could be. So.. 

Teachers, we never forget the good, or the bad. Be the good.

 

Cousins .. mostly the Warren ones this time

Cousins. I have been pretty much blessed with a whole passel of 'em, that's for sure and for certain. Counting both sides of my family, I estimate the number at 50. I may have missed one, I'm not sure.

As a wee child, I can barely remember a few of the older cousins. I look at the pictures & it's pretty obvious they liked me. A little, anyway. The days I spent at Aunt Betty's house on Signal Mountain stand out, because Jr, Johnny, Joyce Ann & Melissa were all older than me and pretty much made me their play pretty. As did my late cousin Judie. I loved being their little pet.

Then there was "the country". My Dad was from a tiny little village called Mulberry, just a few miles from Lynchburg, TN. Back when I was little, I-24 wasn't built yet so you travelled old Hwy 41. It was a 2-lane that should've taken around 3 hours to traverse, but Daddy didn't pay much attention to speed limits back then. And seatbelts? What the heck was that?

We would all pile in the cab of his pick-up truck to head to "the country". By we, I mean Daddy, Mama, me, Mike & Cindy. It wasn't an extended cab, either. We crammed in that truck, with the narrow-assed among us sitting on the others' laps. It was tight. We walked home from school, or rode the bus, loaded up & headed out. It was like a wagon train, only no wagon. And no cows..

We left Rossville around 3:30, just after the bus ran. Daddy drove like a bat out of hell, and most times we beat our cousins' bus home. Cecil Cannon drove that bus, and Pap & Ma lived on Wabash Road -- so naturally this was dubbed The Wabash Cannonball! And cousins would pile out - Donna, Diane, Buck, Cathy & Jerry Lee. Uncle Bob always lived near Ma, and of course Jerry Lee had been adopted by my grandparents long ago.

Like most kids will do, we all paired up, usually according to age. Cindy, Cathy, Buck and Jerry Lee (or Jake as we called him) usually had a squabble over who got to ride the horse & pony. Now, to get to Ma's house, one drove about 2 miles maybe up into the holler. You drove through the creek, not over some high-falutin' bridge. You could ride the ponies or walk for miles and not see a soul! Oh how we loved that place!!

When we arrived, Mom would say "Now don't y'all get wet in that creek"!!  Ok, Mama, we'd tell her. And what was the first thing we did? Of course, we accidentally slid down in the creek. After that, we figured we were already soaked, so what the hey! If we weren't swimming in it, we were catching crawdads in it. You had to step careful, though. There were the most nasty thorn bushes along that creek that I've ever seen in my life! Thorns as long as sabers, I tell you!

I remember one time a bunch of us were in the swimming hole, splashing & yelling for all we were worth. Cindy & Cathy decided they were gonna sneak up on us, so they slithered along the bank through the high grass..  They jumped up and yelled "BOO!!". We all proceeded to LOAO!! Cindy had crawled right through a big cow pile!!  Neck to knees, she was covered. Bless her heart.

Most every Sunday when both my Grandparents were alive, all the Aunts, Uncles and cousins who lived nearby came for Sunday dinner. That could mean 20 adults and about 28 kids. It might also mean Clara Mae & Arthur (a niece & her husband). Ma, my Mama & the aunts would cook the most delicious food. There was a tradition there, and it's that the men ate first. We didn't do that at our house, but there you did. Then, the women & children got to partake. With that many people, most of the kids sat on the stairs going up to the attic and bedrooms. Those were the steepest stairs I've ever seen & the male cousins usually perched on top because they were fearless & brave. Or maybe because the men ate first.

We worked while we were there, too. We didn't understand at the time about farmers and free labor, we just knew when we left Rossville and went to "the country" we went back in time. Waaaay back, to a functional outhouse and no indoor plumbing. I kid you not. The kids would take buckets, empty milk jugs or whatever we could tote and go to the well. It was a far piece from the house. Or, if the well wasn't pumping, we went to the spring. It was a square hole, about 7' down, with steps going down the bank and a flat limestone straddling from side to side. You squatted on the limestone and dipped that fresh sweet water into your bucket or jug. One side was shallow, maybe ankle deep on a good day. The other side of the limestone was deeper, and went back underneath the bank. Funny thing back then - Ma kept a metal milk bucket of water on the kitchen counter with a metal dipper for drinking. Every man, woman & child drank from that dipper and we were probably the most healthy people you knew. Now, I'll barely share a cup with my spouse of 30 some odd years!

One day a bunch of us are fetching Ma some water at the spring and it was my turn to dip. I ease down the bank and dip my milk pail in the deep end. All of a sudden I am helicoptering my arms and I fell for what felt like 5 whole minutes! I landed with a loud splash and just knew I was a goner, sucked forever down into the dark pits abyss! I splashed, I cried for help, I managed to Glub Glub a few times. Well, my ungrateful sorry cousins and siblings just stood there laughing!! What the what??? I'm drowning, can't you see?!?! I'm drowning in about 3" of water...  I had fallen in the shallow side!! Only my back half was wet! I still take a good ribbing for that one!

There was nothing like getting trapped in the outhouse in the dead of summer, because the cattle came over and laid down next to the door. Or running out of the outhouse with your drawers around your ankles because a 10' long chicken snake was in the rafters. Or having to go to the outhouse in the middle of the night, but being scared because of all the nighttime animal calls you'd hear. And Rufus - the little man who guarded Pa's bedroom with his shotgun. I believe Rufus took a shot at Bubba Gatlin once, for sneaking around.

Today, I don't get to see these cousins much. Some I haven't seen in years. Quite a few I "see" on Facebook regularly, and I am so glad!! All these cousins are such an integral part of my childhood and of my life today. I cherish them, I miss them, and I hope they think the same of me.

Finding Camelot, Again

It's that time of year again, friends!! One of the few times I can be dragged to a yard sale. Normally, I don't really care for yard sales - neither attending them nor hosting them. I find it awkward, but I'm weird that way. It is time for the world-famous "World's Longest Yard Sale" along the 127 corridor from Gadsden, Alabama to Up North somewhere. Frankly, I haven't crossed the Mason-Dixon line yet, so I can't tell you much about the quality of the jun.. antiques Up North. I am sure they have fine quality stuff you simply must have or die. Maybe. Hubby & I hope to partake of some of the miles and miles of jun.. fine quality antiques to be found this weekend. Personally, I like to start in Dunlap, Tennessee and go north. Not Up North, just in a meandering northerly direction. Dunlap is one of those fun little towns where you can walk the sidewalks and peruse the fine assortment of treasures just waiting to go home with you. Just ask my eldest grandson - he about cleaned out my wealth last year before we'd even gone 40 miles. There's an awesome little diner we eat at because hubby ate their with his Uncle Bob & Aunt Ethel Crownover, so it holds sentimental memories for him. You know the one, it's right there where the motel with the swimming pool used to be behind it. Also, for fine dining in a dairy farm setting, stop by The Cookie Jar. Just across from the Sequachee Valley Electric Co-op, turn right and just go. The food is good! The Dunlap Coke Ovens are pretty cool, too, if you detour ever so slightly there in the middle of town. From Dunlap we mosey on up toward Pikeville. It's also a lovely old town with lots of the buildings composed of sandstone. I guess there was a huge quarry there 100 years ago, I just don't know. Some of my Mom's people were from up in that direction - some Jones, maybe some Eppersons, even a Standifer if the family lore is true. Bledsoe County was once known as "Bloody Bledsoe", did you know? This was because it was a poor place where bootleggers plied their trade up in the hollers. Lots of murder & mayhem went on, back in the day. I figure that might be how we ended up with the name Jones, as an alias. I'm tempted to stop at some of the old graveyards and try to scare up some relatives. Not actually scare up, as in zombie, but.. well, you know what I mean. While in Pikeville one simply must stop at Simonton's Cheese Emporium, on the left if you're headed north. Free samples. All along the route people are set up. Private homes, rented lots, shady spaces and pure mudholes. You never know what you'll find. One of Tommy's treasures was a belt lacing machine for $10. You have to be a farmer, and know about hay balers, to know what that is. He was happy so I was happy. I am the appointed look-out. As we drive by, I give it a professional picker's glance and decide do we stop or keep rolling. My practiced eye tells me if this is old drawers, dingy glass, or a treasure trove. By now we've made it to Crossville, TN. Crossville is more "refined" and doesn't have quite as many dealers as they used to. Just like Signal Mountain. That used to be a prime piece of real estate in our ventures. The folks up there got tired of us riff-raff and they don't have it across there anymore. Crossville is home to the Cumberland County Playhouse, which is on my bucket list. Otherwise we just pass on through on the search for more things I must have to put in the storage building. Ha. Last year we got ballsy and went on to Jamestown, TN - the birthplace of the WLYS. I didn't find much there, and frankly once or twice I swear I heard banjoes. Fentress County is the poorest county in the state. Anyway.. on to Pall Mall. This is the home of the WWI hero, Sgt. Alvin York. They have a nice little park in his honor and we paid our respects at his gravesite. We were also starving and the only place to eat was up the road a piece in Forbus. It was a general store dating back to the covered wagon days. I ordered a baloney sandwich and it was Slap Yo Mama good!! It really was. Word of warning -- in Forbus the only facilities are of the commercial outhouse variety. Since we were "this" close to Kentucky we said "what the hey" and so we carried on! I tell you, there was NOTHING at the state line there but a peep show and a gas station. I mean NOTHING. Static, Kentucky. I do mean Static. Dead. Nada. We were tired and getting a little touchy, so we turned around and went back toward home. It was then, in Fentress County TN that we saw him!! He was tall, like a golden god standing in the sun. We had found Camelot!! http://www.wbir.com/news/article/282841/2/Fentress-judge-finds-Camelot-at-US-127-yard-sale Camelot, aka Joe Camel!! A local judge owns him, and wouldn't part with him, not even for $800. It wasn't me that offered him $800, but someone did. I hope we see ole Joe again this year! Happy Junkin!!!

Give me patience, or a sharp object

For those of you who know me, you know that I am weird. Medically speaking, of course. My little preemie grandson & I compete for number of scars on one's body. Just kidding..   but we have counted them.

Anyway, a few years back I randomly developed a strep infection in my knee joint. Yeah, I know - you've never heard of that. Well, me either! Went through surgery, a long hospital stay, long term antibiotics via PICC line, and about 9 months of outpatient rehab. Through it all my spirits remained pretty high, and I was back to work sooner than anyone expected, dragging my PICC line and butt-pouch of IV antibiotic fluids around.

So, I heal. I get most of the bend back in my knee. Then BAM! I develop strep in my hip joint. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Who gets that? Who gets that twice?? Me, that's who. Luck of the dead man, as a good friend used to always say.

Anyway, same surgeon, same painful stay in the hospital. Same PICC line (different arm). But, this time was a bit different. Yep, they sent me for some inpatient rehabilitation at the renowned Siskin Hospital for Physical Rehabilitation in lovely downtown Chattanooga.

For one of the few times in my life I engaged in a little Pity Party. No other guests showed up, there were no gifts at this Pity Party. Just me. Alone. With my flippin' PICC line and my flippin' IV bag hanging around my flippin' waist. All night that first night I listened to LifeForce land and take off from the roof of Erlanger Hospital. I snubbed, I sniffed, I even outright cried. I was Pitiful.

They rehabbed me physically and occupationally. Taught me to pedal a bike with my hands, to put my drawers on with this long-handled contraption, to use a 4' long shoehorn to get my feet in my house shoes. Oh, it was great fun! Then there was the group exercise room. Fun, Fun, Fun. Here I was, in my 40s, in a facility I had visualized as being where old people go. Boo Hooo Hooooo. Party continues.

I had wonderful therapists, I must say. They were so freakin' positive you just wanted to spit. One smelled like Peony Body Lotion, from Bath & Body. So strong, in fact, my eyes watered. Or maybe those were Pity Tears. I can't remember.

On my 1st full day there I saw my Battalion of therapists, who smiled with perfect teeth and youthful health and told me "That Which Does Not Kill Us Only Makes Us Stronger". SHUT UP, ALREADY!!  Can you not see I am indulging myself, that I am wallowing?!?! About the 4th time I heard this uplifting phrase, I mentally pictured myself whacking this beautiful young woman with my 4' long shoe horn! I really did. I had that Red Rage I have only read about (well, I experienced it once at the now-defunct Saturn dealership, but that's another story).

I was so taken aback at myself! I was truly on the verge of going all Marie Antoinette on someone! Quiet, sweet little Joy had a MOMENT! I was very thankful to be wheeled back to my room, by the nicest man talking about the collard greens he had for lunch (I had gruel). Now, I'm feeling sorry for myself AND I'm mad as a mashed cat, to boot!

What turned me around? Well, I would say it was when my Angel Aide named Annie wheeled me naked into the shower in a PVC pipe chair. But, that wouldn't be it. Or when I didn't quite get an aide to my room quick enough and did something I haven't done since cloth diapers..

It was my 2nd day there..  I am wheeled down (again by collard green man, & I would have killed for them at that point) to the pool area. I see this young teen being lowered by full body harness into the pool. I am placed on the exercise mat with a lady who has lost both legs at the knee, and is battling for all she's worth to save her surviving stumps. During that exercise session she had a diabetic episode and passed out. All around me are people in terrible physical condition, from a variety of ailments they had little chance of overcoming.

That evening ended my self-inflicted Pity Party. That was it. ENOUGH! Although I didn't know how this 2nd strep thing was going to turn out, I was going to be ok. (Turns out I had yet another strep episode on the same hip, before getting my bionic hip inserted). I discovered the JOY that had been in me all along, that I had pushed down deep while I self-indulged.

With that epiphany behind me I still must say, TO THIS VERY DAY when I hear someone say "That Which Doesn't Kill Us Only Makes Us Stronger" I still have to quell the urge to smack them! Can't they find something catchier? Maybe "You Got This" or just "QuitYerBellyAchin"?! 

Knowledge is Power!

The past few weeks have seen a lot of discussion, compassion & animosity regarding the thousands of children crossing our Southern border. Gov. Haslam had a little hissy fit; Gov. Bentley says "We got this". Unaccompanied children are being placed with sponsors all across the 50 states, and most of these children speak the Spanish language.

Now, what side of the immigration issue one comes down on is their own personal business. Me? I say we have to treat these kids as a Christian should, until the point they can be either deported back home or assimilated into our society to become a productive citizen, legally, over time. *Just for fun - I think it normally takes about 5 years to become a US citizen. 

Which is leading me to my point, albeit the long way around. That point is - learning a second language is essential in today's world!

"Let them learn our language, I ain't learning Spanish. This is MY country & English is the official language". Well..  yes & no.   Yes, they need to learn English to be functional in this country. And no, English is not our official language. It is the #1 language spoken in the US, followed by Spanish. *For fun, guess what language is the most common language spoken in Alabama, after English and Spanish?

But, here's my real point. WHY would someone not want to increase their earning power? That's right -- earning power! With our state, our country, and the world changing, it now PAY$ to know another language. Business is global. WE are global.

Obviously, Spanish would be the most useful in this region. We have friends, neighbors and business owners who are Hispanic. If they present to the ER and can't speak English, that ER nurse who is bilingual has an immediate impact on getting that patient the care they need. What about the ESL teachers? I went on a field trip with eldest grandson a couple of years ago, and the translator was amazing. She was able to walk those children through what was happening around them without missing a word. She translated every English word so they were a part of it all. I imagine by now those sweet, well behaved kids have learned English. Kids are so smart!

The social work field would be another where a 2nd language would be beneficial. Can you imagine the fear, if social services had to step into a family situation and remove children then to compound that, they can't understand the language? What about in a courtroom? Have you ever witnessed court translators in action? Executives in the boardrooms across America have a distinct advantage if they have command another language.

And the seldom mentioned sign language. I watch them on the tv and am amazed at the magic their hands impart. I am amazed that this language exists for the non-hearing among us. American Sign Language is a bit more specialized than verbal language, and that also makes it very important.

These skills, these 2nd or even 3rd languages, mean M O N E Y for the job applicant. Maybe I am too old to learn enough functional language to matter much, but my kids and grandkids aren't. Knowing and using another language puts you ahead of the game, earns you better dinero!  So break out the Rosetta Stone, or take some courses! Don't ever let public sentiment or antiquated thinking keep you down!!

Knowledge is POWER!

*Oh yeah, the 3rd most commonly spoken language in Alabama is German.