Thoughts in a Cement Mixer
As I sat trying to urge myself to get out of bed after waking up, thought of what I should write about churned in my head. I should have tried to write something last evening after church, but a combination of low energy and a lack of ideas prevented me from writing. This morning a trailing thought from my dream flowed by. The dream was about me parking my car and walking. It began to snow and I decided to return, but couldn’t find my car. I don’t know what happened then. I woke up. I didn’t want to write about that.
Friday and Saturday I fried sausage at the annual Ohiopyle Pancake, Buckwheat Cake & Sausage festival. Of course my body complained, but there are other men who are the same age or in worse health than me, so I continue to go. This was the 75th anniversary of the festival and I’ve worked nearly fifty of them. My son Andrew and his family and my daughter Anna and her husband came out and we ate together. I saw my dietician Alex who came out with his friends and enjoyed the food as well.
The work of frying sausage isn’t strenuous, but the leaning over the griddles is hard on the back and legs. Each griddle is about eighteen inches deep by twenty-eight inches wide and there are twelve griddles, six on each side. The heat of the first six griddles is kept low, starting the cooking process. The sausage patties are then passed over to the second set of griddles to finish the frying process. Forty-two patties fit tightly on each griddle. The meat patties must be watched carefully so they don’t burn or stick to the surface of the griddles.
The flames beneath the griddles must be monitored or the griddles will get to hot. Sometimes if the air current changes direction or strength, it can quickly affect the flames and the heat. What causes us to return year after year? It’s the camaraderie. It’s the friendships that have developed over the many years. Some friends have passed away, others have filled in, and new bonds have developed.