Dealing with the “Big C”

No I am not talking about Carole, well yes I am, but she isn’t the “Big C”, well maybe she is.  Before I get anymore confused I had better write this and explain what I mean.

This story starts in 1986, 28 years ago.  Life was hectic.  I was a partner in a firm in Birmingham, Carole was working as a counselor at the vocational school in Talladega County, and we had two small boys.  I hated my job!  I was leaving the house at 6:00 in the morning and not getting home until 6:30 or 7:00 at night.  My kids were growing up without me being at home.  Carole was working her ass off to take care of them, cook our dinner and do her job at the school.  I won’t say life wasn’t good, it was just too hectic and we didn’t have time for each other.  

There were four partners in our firm; one of them accused me of not pulling my weight.  I was pissed; I knew where the work was coming from in the office.  I had the secretary pull the records for the past year and give me the total volume of payment received.  I was producing 60% of the revenue for the firm.  I wasn’t getting 60% of the money!  At about the same time there was this new thing on the horizon called CAD (Computer Aided Drafting) that I was total captured by.  The other partners thought it was some weird idea that would pass on one day soon and there was no reason to invest that type of money in something as crazy as that.  I said screw you guys I will buy the system myself.  So I spent about $10,000 on a computer system and software to have a CAD station.  We had two jobs in the office I did the one using the CAD system.  The other was done using our traditional hand drafting system.  At the end of the jobs, the CAD job took much more of my time but the profit on the job was much better.  OK, just so you have the picture, I am doing most of the work for the firm, I have a method where I can make a higher level of profit and I can spend more time with my wife if I quit and work in Pell City.  The first of March, I gave them the KMA award and walked out the door.  I set up my office in our house.  I was home and got hugs and kisses from everyone in the afternoon around 3:00.  I was doing intellectually stimulating work.  At the end of the April I had already made more money that I had the previous year.

In May, ACEC was having a convention at Sea World.  Uncle Sam gives me a big discount on travel and hotel rooms when I go to conventions.  (Statue of limitations has long since closed on this Mr. IRS)  We pack up and fly to the convention.  May have been the best convention ever.  Carole and I, boys in tow, go to all the cocktail parties and we spend the rest of the time at Sea World and Disney with the boys.  Life was good.

But wait, there was something concerning Carole.  She had a lump in her right breast.  The doctor told her it was OK not to worry about it.  She didn’t accept that answer and forced them into doing a biopsy on the place.  The results came back; it was “The Big C”, Cancer.  Our world came apart.  At first I was in denial.  It couldn’t be true.  We got second opinions.  It was true.  The only choice was a radical mastectomy.  The surgery went well but it was hard on her.  Looking back, I wasn’t as much help, as I should have been.  I felt I had to work, because if I didn’t work we weren’t going to have money for house payments and food. 

It was serious, hard surgery.  While she was in the hospital a woman walked in the room and introduced herself.  She was from the “Reach to Recovery” program.  She talked with us about what Carole would have to go thru in the next few months and answered tons of questions she had about what life was like after the operation.  Questions that only a woman who had been thru the surgery could answer.  I don’t know who she was, we never saw her again.  She was an angel that day.

Recovery was hard.  Carole’s sister Julie spent a lot of time with us during and immediately after the surgery taking care of the boys.  The boys later told us they had no idea of the seriousness of the problem and were having a blast with their Aunt Julie.  I watched her cry many mornings as she did her exercise to get mobility back in her arm.  It was devastating to me to see what she was going thru.  She was tough and worked hard at recovery. 

Things had finally stabilized and were beginning to go pretty good when she found another lump in the same area which meant going back to surgery.  My mother was in the waiting room with me when they came out with the news.  She had cancer in her lymph nodes.  I didn’t have a clue what a lymph node was, but every time I had heard of someone having cancer in their lymph nodes they died.  I couldn’t believe the words, it was like I was having a bad dream and couldn’t wake up, the room was spinning, they told us to wait for her back in the room.  I made it to the elevator and passed out.  Until the night she passed away that was “The Worst Moment of my Life”. 

The surgeon told us he wanted her to see this new oncologist who had just come to town.  The surgeon also warned us he was pretty aggressive which was great and exactly what she wanted.  She didn’t want any chance of not seeing her boys grow up. 

Chemo was tough.  She was working, taking care of two small boys and dealing with chemo.  My mother was a saint; she went with Carole to every one of her chemo treatments.  Norma, my secretary (and other mother) and I took care of the boys.  Carole lost her hair and was very sick during most of the treatments.  She kept going!  Never missed work, never missed any of the boys programs or any of my crazy stuff.  I still don’t know how she did it. 

She was concerned about her looks and believe me there is no sex life during chemo.  I will just leave it at things just don’t work.  It was one of the few times I have seen her insecure.  She wanted to know if I still loved her in the shape she was in.  This was the girl of my dreams.  I assured her I still loved her.  Besides “if I can love you when you are bald with one boob, I will be around for a long time”.  We have shared that line many times with friends. 

If she thought “Reach to Recovery” was hard she hadn’t seen anything yet.  Reconstructive surgery was, well I just can’t tell you how bad it was.  She asked her doctor why he didn’t tell her it was going to be so hard.  And he replied, if I had told you, you wouldn’t have done it.  It wasn’t just one surgery it was multiple surgeries.  Her body kept rejecting the implants and they had to do it again and again.  I think she had four trips to the operating room before they finally got it to work.  All during this time she never slowed down.  The boys and me always came first.  She was their scout leader.  She sewed costumes for the “Full Dress Book Reports”.  She had very little sympathy for women who wouldn’t be involved their children’s lives.  She was nice and encouraging to them but she dog cussed them to me.  She finally lost it one day when this women who didn’t work told her she didn’t have time to help with something in Scouts.  She used a few four letter words and told her she worked every day, took care of the house and fixed a dinner every night for her family and was undergoing chemo therapy, and if by God I can do this, so can you.  Get up off your lazy ass and make something of your life.  She eventually had the other breast removed and reconstructive surgery done on it also, as a preventive measure. 

I won’t tell you we had a perfect relationship during this time.  She was scared, frustrated, tired and generally felt miserable for about 2 years.  I had to learn to be a kinder, gentler person.  She was always a perfect mom to her boys and a perfect family member to our families, but she needed a release and sometime I got the brunt of her frustrations.  It was probably well deserved.  I agreed with and to, a lot of things I didn’t believe to be good or true.  I turned the other cheek.  I walked away from a few conversations.  She needed total and undivided support.  (As a side note never ever tell a red headed woman to calm down.)  My brother-in-law told me he saw a major change take place in me during this time.

Life finally got back to the new normal.  We saw that life was precious and you had to love and enjoy it each day.  We made a vow to always have fun.  We went, we did, we saw, we enjoyed, we hugged and kissed more.  We took “No Tan Lines” cruises to the Virgin Islands and the two of us sailed alone on a 40 foot boat for a couple of weeks each summer. Paul and Michael thought we were disgusting.  (OK Paul and Michael, we did actually wear our swim suits, well most of the time.)  It is pretty amazing that two people who have been married for 20 plus years can spend two weeks alone, love every minute of it and still talk to each other at the end of the trip.  We bought a boat on the coast and then she wanted a bigger boat.  We sailed across the Gulf of Mexico several times.  She loved seeing the Milky Way from the middle of the Gulf.  We watched the moon set in the middle of the night.  Life was good and getting better.

We thought of it as a second chance to do things we hadn’t done.  Carole got more involved in the community.  She retired from her job and ran for the school board.  She got active in the American Cancer Society and worked for reach to recovery.  She became a trainer for volunteers in the program.  She was chair of the United Way Campaign.  She was Citizen of the Year for Pell City.  She took on special projects like not smoking in restaurants in Pell City.  She worked tirelessly.  She told one of our ministers recently that she knew that God must had saved her so she could help other people and she had always tried her best to do be a helper.  She impacted a lot of lives.  So many people have told me of the positive impact she had on them.  She could give hard love advice and people appreciated what she said and didn’t get mad at her.  This was truly a unique ability.

Things went well.  Cancer checkups went from weekly, to monthly, to quarterly, to yearly, to you are cured don’t come back.  We watched the boys grow up, graduate with honors and scholarships, graduate from college, get great jobs, find people they loved and cared about.  I got my credit cards back.  Thank you Jesus!

A few years ago she told me something and looking back it may have been the start of her knowing something was going on.  She told me she had made a pack with God.  “If he would let her see her boys grown and happily married her life would be complete.  As time passed and her request was being fulfilled she was beginning to worry about her deal.”  We laughed about it, shared it with our Sunday School Class and friends.  I told her she should have asked for great grand kids.  She told me she didn’t want to be greedy. 

Then about three years ago it happened again.  We were working in the yard and her back started hurting.  Well hell, you rake leaves for a few hours and you are 63 years old your back is supposed to hurt.  It didn’t stop hurting.  She went to the doctor and they told her that her back was broken.  The only problem was you couldn’t break your back the way it was broken.  The only way you can break your back like that is with cancer.  Oh my God, not again! 

They repaired her back and samples confirmed the doctor’s first impression.  It was Breast Cancer, stage four.  The orthopedic doctor and our niece Beth, who works in the cancer center at St V East, recommend an oncologist.  We had our initial meeting with him, he was great but Carole wanted to use her oncologist that she had used years before.  About two days later Jimmy Harvey her original oncologist called, he was a partner of the doctor we saw, and told her that she was his patient.  He had got her thru this one time and he would do it again. 

We went into hyper mode on the bucket list.  While we had crossed the equator, the International Date Line there was still places to see and things to do.  We worked treatments around trips to Maine, Equator, Europe, and Virgin Islands.  I am not talking long weekend trips we were gone six or seven weeks at a time.  We had fun.  We met new best friends; we took old friends with us.  Last year she was got on to me for working too much, I am supposed to be retired, and we need to do more things together.  I pointed out to her we had been gone 16 weeks that year not including long weekends at the boat every other weekend.  We laughed and vowed to do more next year. 

We had been getting positive results from her treatment, Dr. Harvey was positive for the next couple of years. We got back from France last June for her check up.  New scans showed places in her liver.  I didn’t want to read what Google told me about liver cancer.  I am sure she read the same thing.  Her family insisted we go to Anderson in Houston for more opinions.  We did, their opinion was do what your Doctor in Birmingham is telling you to do.  She started treatments.  The thought of loosing her hair was devastating.  I am sure I helped when I told her that at least this time she would be “bald with two boobs”.  She did well with the treatment.  They would zap her for a couple of days and she would spend most of her time on the sofa.  After that she was up and off to the boat or some other adventure.  January came and time for new scans.  Things were good, places in the back had cleared up and places on her liver were much smaller.  Only four more treatments to go and chemo would be finished, although we knew there would probably be more for the rest of her life.

We were off to the Leeward Islands on a 485 ft. sailboat with the boys and their partners.  She was amazing to everyone on the boat.  Her cute little hats and red wig never slowed her down.  Many of the people on the ship came up to the boys and me and told us how impressed they were with her attitude.

At the end of March she was scheduled for new round of scans.  They weren’t good.  They showed new places in her bones and the places in her liver were much larger.  The chemo wasn’t working.  The doctor told us he didn’t have any other chemo options for her.  All three of us cried.  We knew of some advanced studies in Nashville.  It took a while to set up the appointments and by the time we got to see them her liver numbers were way out of the range of acceptability.  Ten times normal values.  Her doctor went all the way to Director of FDA to see if she could get the medicine under a “Compassionate Care” program.  No luck.  In May Dr. Harvey tried one other form of treatment.  He told her it was going to be bad. 

We spent most of the month of May visiting with some friends and spending time on the boat.  We anchored out several times but it was obvious that she was struggling.  The last couple of days we were there she had to hold my arm as to stabilize her self as we walked down the dock.  The last day she couldn’t get on the boat.  Michael and I had to push and tug on her.  It was time to go home.

Each day was a steady decline which meant more doctor appointments.  She couldn’t tolerate the chemo.  She had sores all over her body, she was miserable and the doctor had to stop the treatment.

The day she passed away, she got up that morning, had breakfast and took a bath on her own.  Paul came for a visit at 10:00 they laughed and talked about his new job for an hour and she wanted to rest.  I checked on her at noon, she was sleeping soundly; at 2:00 Alain and Sandy came for a visit.  We couldn’t get her up.  Home health nurse came and said she has to go to the hospital now.  The evaluation at the hospital told the doctors her liver had completely stopped functioning.  It is hard to maintain composure when the doctor tells you the girl of your dreams has less than 24 hours to live. 

She was in a lot of pain and told them to give her something to make it go away.  They moved her in a room and I don’t know if she ever recognized anyone after they moved her.  A little before midnight we were alone in the room.  Of course I was crying like a baby.  I looked up and she had a tear in her eye, I wiped it away, told her I loved her and always would, she took one final breath. 

I probably should end the story there, but I have to add the moral to the story.  Of course I would have loved for her to have never gone thru dealing with cancer and I would have given anything to have enjoyed a 70^th wedding anniversary with her.  We had a great life together.  I think we were granted a lot of years we wouldn’t have had, if it hadn’t been for modern medicine and good doctors.  She, me and we made the most of those years.  She seized the moment and made the best of each day.  Her passion was helping people.  She did that.  I hope everyone uses her as model to live their life.

Where were you when?

I remember my parents talking about where they were when they found out about Pear Harbor.  So how many times have we defined our lives by the simple statement of “Where were you went …”.  I certainly remember several in my life time. 

• ·        Where was I when John Kennedy was killed?  Looking for my High School Principal.
• ·        Where was I when the planes flew in to the world trade center?  In a sewage treatment plant.
• ·        Where was I when Neal Armstrong walked on the moon?  In a bar.

Maybe the first two will get covered later on in another blog but this is about “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind”.  So where were you that night?

That night was framed in a unique way for Carole.  I had just accepted a job with Southern Prestressed Concrete in Pensacola.  I had been working for just a few weeks and the Chief Engineer Lynn Howard invited Carole and meet to join him, his wife, the owner of the company Mr. Noonan (I think his first name was Mister because that is all I ever heard from anyone) and his wife to join them at “The Country Club” for dinner.  We just a couple of punk kids straight out of college.  I don’t think either of us had ever been to a country club for dinner.  We were somewhere between scared and intimidated.  OK, if we blow this my career is over, I can pack it up and go back to washing trucks at Floyd and Beasley. 

Well we were on our best behavior and we succeeded in getting thru the night without getting gravy on the boss’s wife or spilling a drink on the table.  I actually want to be in front of a TV because that was the night the US was supposed to have a man walk on the moon.  I knew this event was going to cost me the opportunity of a life time, seeing the first person to walk on the moon, but screwing it up would cost me my new job. About the time TV coverage picked up we retired to the bar to watch the coverage.  Thank you Jesus!  Carole and I weren’t very sophisticated drinkers.   I could fake it by ordering Scotch on the rock.  (Still my favorite drink)  Carole didn’t have a clue.  This was a long time before the more recent years of “Gin on the Rocks, Dirty”.  She was twenty-one and hadn’t spent much time in bars.  As a matter of fact hardly anyone had.  I think there were only two in Tuscaloosa when were in college.  You didn’t enter them without a gun.  Imagine that only two bars in Tuscaloosa!  She admitted she didn’t have a clue what to order and Mr. Noonan said I will order something for you.  He ordered her a Pina Colada.  Of course being twenty-one she loved it.  From then on every time something would come up about the first man on the moon, Carole would always say that was the night I had my first Pina Colada.  Strange how things define our lives.  Was it the first steps on the moon or Pina Colada?  We will never know. 

Many years later we got to meet Neil Armstrong at an ACEC meeting.  It is a long story but I was on the committee that had him speak, so one of the duties was to meet and welcome him.  I found out that night he had always been one of her heroes.  She had to have her photograph made with him.  No, I couldn’t be in the photo!  ACEC photographer was nice enough to send us a copy of the photo.  She had it framed and put it on the night stand on her side of the bed.  So every night she kissed me good night, rolled over to turn of the light and I am assuming told Neil goodnight.  I said something to her about it one time and she moved it to her closet.  I guess so she could run around naked in front of him.

So Neil you mess with my wife in heaven and I am coming after your ass!  

How you go into a bar with a screen door.

Back in the early 70’s I was working for Paragon Engineering in Leeds.  We were in the basement of Moss Thornton Construction Company.  Actually Moss Thornton was one of the owners of the company.  Our office was just outside of the break room for the construction company so it was an active place.  One day there was an equipment operator in the break area expounding on the virtues of life for an equipment operator.  One of his favorite places was a bar up at the Brompton exit.  The bar had no Air Conditioning and a wood stove for a heat.  It wasn’t the type of place I would want to take my 25 year old wife.  The operator was trying to convince me it would be a good place for me to stop on the way home and buy him a couple of drinks.  I told him I didn’t have a gun with me and ask if would they issue me one.  He said not to worry he had plenty in his truck, but he said you had to know to enter the building.  The first thing you need to enter is a gun, a BIG gun.  Don’t matter what you have as long it is real big.  Now what you do is you just stick the barrel down into your hip pocket with most of the gun hanging out.  As soon as you enter the door you accidently bump it with your hand so it falls out.  Now it needs to be big and heavy so it makes a lot of noise when it hits the wood floor.  As you start to pick the gun up you sort of kick it so it hits a couple of chair legs and make more noise.  By that time you should have at least a few of the people in the bar attention.  You bend down slow, pick up the gun; bring it slowly up to eye level so you can see it real good.  You twist the gun slowly around back and forth admiring the weapon.  As you slowly admire the gun you say loudly “Damn that Sun-of-Bitch could have went off and kilt one of y’all”.  Then you can sit at the bar and have a beer, but don’t stay too long unless you want to use the gun.

I never made to the bar but I have never forgotten the description of how to go into the bar.  

Bob's Rules

All of us live by rules.  We probably all have personal rules that we live by.  Carole and I are big fans of NCIS.  If you watch the program you know they reference Gibb’s Rules from time to time.  I got to wondering what my rules were. So here they are.  I have only been thinking about them for a short time so I reserve the right to change or add to them.

Bob Rule #1:       If you are going to be stupid you have to be tough.

There are several variations of this rule.  If you are going to be stupid it is going to hurt.  If you are going to be stupid it is going to cost you some money.  Of course the object of the game is to make good decision in a timely manner.  Recently I cut my finger with a chisel while cutting dove tails.  Right before I cut it I told myself that this was a dangerous thing to do and I need to find a way to hold the wood so my hand wouldn’t be in front of the chisel.  I didn’t see an easy way to do it so I tried to be careful.  Well I didn’t try hard enough.  I bought a couple of hold downs the next day and fixed me a jig so I don’t have to hold them any more while I am cutting.  Over the years I have made some business decision that I didn’t think felt good at the time and they cost me a bunch of money.  Maybe we should all take time to be smarter.

Bob Rule #2:       Never do anything you wouldn’t want your mother to know about.

My mom was an inspiration to me and a lot of other people.  I always wanted to do things that would make her proud of her son.  That may have been were part of my drive to succeed came from.  I used to tell our sons that they should never do anything they wouldn’t want her to know about.  If you always do things to make your mom proud it will keep you out of a lot of trouble in your life.

Bob Rule #3:       Be the best you can be.

All of us can’t be professional football players or Olympic swimmers.  Let’s face it they just were born different from you and me.  I had a good friend in High School who was a good football player.  Much better than me.  He smoked, he drank, he didn’t do what the coach told him to do, and he would slack on the practice field.  What could he have been if he had tried harder?  I get very frustrated with myself when I do something that isn’t good enough.  I am learning how to build furniture and it is challenging.  When I slip and make a bad cut it is very frustrating.  I have to practice more and work harder to do what I want to achieve.  I have never considered myself to be the best engineer.  But I have always tried to be the best I could be.  Often that meant just working harder to try to accomplish more. 

Bob Rule #4:       Never be unavailable

Especially from Carole.  I got a huge job one time because the Architect called another engineer on Friday afternoon at 4:50 and he wasn’t in the office.  I was there to take his call.  At that time the job was a year’s salary.  It made an impression.  I take calls early in the morning and late at night.  With cell phones you can always be available.  The contractors we work with start early in the morning and the architects work late into the night.  I try to always take their calls regardless of the time.  Some of the calls I take are on Friday afternoon when I am in the middle of Pensacola Bay on the sailboat.  They are paying for the boat so I need to take their call. 

Bob Rule #5:       Take time to have fun.

I work hard but I also play hard.  Carole had cancer 27 years ago.  Until that time I worked almost nonstop.  I had just started my own business and was scared of failure.  That was slapped in the face, she might not be here forever and we hadn’t had enough fun.  Since that time there is little we wanted to do that we haven’t done.  She still gives me a hard time about working so much but I have to remind her we were gone 16 weeks last year and every weekend is a 3 day weekend.  Now that she is facing cancer again we have to plan thing around her treatment schedule.  We have several trips already planned for next year plus all the weekends on the boat. 

Bob Rule #6:       Don’t worry about things you can’t control.

I love the Serenity Prayer. 

God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

The courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

I have a friend who just says, SEP.  Someone Else’s Problem.  I will never be able end wars, make national policy or thousands of other things.  So I don’t worry about them.  I can help United Way reach its goal, the Boy Scouts start a new troop, help develop land and infrastructure in Industrial Parks so hundreds of people have jobs.  Don't worry about Alabama’s football team, the coach isn’t going to call as ask for your opinion.  You can meet with the mayor and educate them on the importance of sewer in the town.  Work on thing you can change and let the rest be SEP.

Bob Rule #7:       Be aware of your surroundings.

Have you ever jumped in the ocean with a watch on and come face to face with a barracuda.  They like shiny stuff.  Just maybe that was a violation of rule #1.  You should away be aware of the conditions you put yourself or find yourself.  This applies in walking the streets of some strange town, driving down the highway or in dealing with a new client.  Often you need to rapidly adjust your position to make it to the next exit or level, but you have to be aware of your surroundings to know which way to adjust.

Bob Rule #9:      Always have your pocket knife.

OK, I stole that one from Gibbs Rule #9.  It is amazing how often a knife comes in handy.  If I have my pants on I have a knife in them.  

I am going to miss Ann

OK, I have too many friends dying.  One of the ladies in our church recently passed away after a long illness with cancer.  She was in her 80’s and had lived a very full life.  In our Sunday School Class we were discussing what we should strive to be like in the coming year.  We all agreed we should be more like Ann Self.  I had to share this story with the Sunday School Class.    

We were in the planning stages of building The Beacon a new multipurpose building at our church.  I was the chairman of the building committee and Ann was a member of the committee.  There was one church member who didn't agree with the project. Every time we turned around they had thrown up a new road block. I was on the verge of going and punching their lights out. Anne recognized this, made me a voodoo doll of this person and gave me a box of pins to stick in the doll. So told me to imagine all the pain this person was having every time I stuck in a pin. I had tremendous satisfaction every day when I inserted pins into knees, hips, elbows and head.  She helped me get thru a challenging time and have some fun doing it. It was a great life lesson.

She probably generated more excitement about the project than anyone else in the church.  She was one of those people who was always smiling and faced the world with a positive attitude.  I will never forget her and my voodoo doll.  

Mama Dean Pound Cakes

My mom was famous for her pound cakes.  Oh they were sooooo good.  Every since she retired she made one almost every day.  I never went in her house that there wasn’t at least one sitting on the counter.  It didn’t matter if you weren’t hungry you still cut a big chunk and enjoyed it.  Oh and if you were lucky enough to get one hot out of the oven.  Well heaven could be any better.  Hot pound cake, a glass of cold “whole” milk (none of that crappy thin milk in her house) and you were at heaven’s door. 

She called it her pound cake ministry.  If you were sick, you got a pound cake.  If a family member died, you got a pound cake.  If you had a birthday, you got a pound cake.  Any friend who stopped by for a visit, you got a pound cake.  You worked on her house, you got a pound cake.  The UPS man made a delivery, you got a pound cake.  Her attorney was paid in pound cakes.  He would do house calls just to get one.

It was unusual to get a whole cake.  It always had one very thin piece missing where she would cut it and see it was acceptable to give away.  Most people never knew it was missing a piece.  She could cut the piece so small it only had one side. 

There are many stories about her cakes.  I sure I don’t know all of them but just to share a few.

Our son’s Paul and Michael were in the First Methodist Youth Group.  Every year they did a mission trip, for which, the youth had to raise the funds for the trip.  One year she volunteered to make pound cakes for them to sell.  Well even though mom wasn’t a member of our church, everyone in our church who had ever been to an event had tasted one of her cakes.  Needless to say, they were a hot item and very easy to sell.  So they sold a lot of them.  As best as I remember, it was like 72 of them that she made.  The good part about her pound cakes is they freeze easy and keep fresh for a long time if you freeze them.  Freeze them she did.  The only problem she ran out of freezer space, so they went to neighbors, friends and anyone else who had freezer space.  The real adventure came when it came time to go collect all of them.  Carole and my sister DeAnn went with mother and it took all day because you had to visit with everyone when you picked up the cakes. 

My business partner in Tuscaloosa loved my mom’s pound cakes.  She declared them the best she ever had.  Jennifer is a real connoisseur of pound cakes, so that really meant something.  She loved to get them and always called my mother to thank her.  Of course that made mom’s day mostly because she just loved Jennifer.  (Hell who doesn’t love Jennifer.)  Jennifer admitted to me that she would hide mom’s cakes and not share with her girls or Forest.  She said they just didn’t know how to appreciate what they were getting and she wasn’t going to waste it on them.  They could eat Win-Dixie cookies and be happy.  Many of the pound cakes never left the office for the trip home.  Of course she got caught a couple of times by her girls and would have to share.

Talladega Tractor would come get my mom’s grass cutting tractor every year and service it.  (She loved to cut grass, until her back got too bad to do it.)  They always got a pound cake when they picked the tractor up and when they returned it.  So one of the trips the guy brought the tractor back and unloaded it.  He gave mom the repair ticket.  But then he didn’t leave, he just kept standing around.  Mom finally asked him if there was something she was supposed to sign or did he need her to do something else.  He told her, he was instructed not to come back to the shop without a pound cake.  Apparently the mechanics at Talladega Tractor had threatened him with his life if he did not return with a cake.  She apologized for not thinking to give him one.  He left with the cake, his life was safe and the mechanics were happy until next spring.

There was one lady who was taking chemo and swears the only thing she could eat was mom’s pound cake.  It was the only thing that kept her alive. 

Of course pound cakes take lots of sugar.  Since sugar is expensive when she could buy it on sale she would.  As a matter of fact lots of people got to buy sugar.  They always limit the amount you can buy when it is on sale.  So she would go to the three grocery stores in Sylacauga and buy all she could.  Often she would go back the next day to the same three stores and buy more if they hadn’t sold out.  She would send my sister to all three stores and Carole would get to go to the grocery stores in Pell City to buy all they could buy.  We were always concerned that the Revenuers would show up and cart her off the jail for making whiskey. 

There were two different periods of time when her cakes didn’t come out they way they always had.  She started working on what the problem was.  She wasn’t happy.  As a matter of fact it was one of the few times in her life she wasn’t happy.  After several weeks of work, she confronted the margarine company; they admitted they had changed their process.  They told her to buy Fleischmann’s Original, it was the old formula.  She did the same thing with the flour company when they changed their process.  She knew her pound cake material.

Michael decided that he was going to learn how to cook her pound cake.  So he went and stayed a few days with her and she instructed him on how to make the cake.  Having a scientific mind he timed each of the different mixing times.  In three days she never varied more than 15 seconds in how long she did each of the operations. 

Mama Dean’s Cream Cheese Pound Cake

½ lb of butter

8 oz cream cheese

3 cups of sugar

6 eggs
3 cups of flour

¼ tsp soda

1 tsp vanilla & lemon flavor

The rest of this is Michael summary on how to do one of her cakes.  One of these days I will do a blog about her life.  But that is going to have to wait.  I will always miss her and her pound cakes. 

Here is the general process for making any cake Mama Dean quality.

Products to use:

Butter = Land of Lakes Salted butter

Margarine = Fleischmann's Original

Flour = White Lilly All Purpose

Sugar = Domino (only from the 5lb bag)

Milk = Whole milk

Extract = Watkin's Brand

Eggs = Large and preferably from Aunt Sally's farm

Sour Cream = any brand just make sure it's not low fat

Stand Mixer = Kitchen Aide (her's was classic white but I assume any color will do)

Any deviation in product will produce a different cake, not necessarily a bad cake, just different.

All refrigerated ingredients should be removed from the refrigerator 1 hour prior to beginning the recipe.  Room temperature of the products should be at least 70 degrees F.

Sifting of dry ingredients:

Always sift the flour before measuring it for the recipe, regardless of what the written recipe says.  If it calls for 4 cups of flour, put four cups of flour in the sifter, sift it and then measure out 4 cups and proceed with the recipe.  Even cake flour should be sifted before you measure it out for the recipe.

Creaming:

To correctly cream the butter and sugar, add all the butter to your Kitchen Aide Stand Mixer.  Beat on high 30 seconds.  With the mixer running, begin to slowly add the sugar to the butter.  It should take at least 30 seconds per cup of sugar.  Once all the sugar is added turn off the mixer and scrape down the bowl.  Make sure you go all the way to the bottom of the bowl (I cannot stress the importance of this enough).  Turn the mixer back on setting 6 and beat for 60 seconds.  Turn off the mixer and scrape the bowl again.  Turn the mixer back on setting 6 and beat for 60 seconds, for a second time.  Turn off the mixer and scrape the bowl again.  Turn the mixer back on setting 6 and beat for 60 seconds, for a third and final time.  Turn off the mixer and scrape the bowl again for the third time.

Adding the Eggs:

Turn the mixer on setting 6 for at least 30 seconds before adding the first egg.  Always crack the egg into a coffee cup before adding it to the bowl and check for a bad egg or a stray shell fragment.  Wait until each egg is fully incorporated before adding the next one.  Halfway through the number of eggs, turn off the mixer and scrape down the bowl, again making sure you go all the way to the bottom.  Turn the mixer back on and add the remaining eggs.  After the last egg is fully incorporated, turn off the mixer and scrape down the bowl again.

Adding the Flour & Wet ingredient:

With the mixer on the lowest setting, slowly add the flour in 1/4 cup increments alternating with the wet ingredient (milk or sour cream).  Begin and end with the flour.  Half way through, turn off the mixer and scrape down the bowl.  Turn the mixer back on and add the flavorings before resuming with the flour.  After the last addition of flour, turn off the mixer and scrape down the bowl again. Turn the mixer back on high speed for a final 30 seconds.

Doneness:

A too hot oven is your worst enemy.  Either calibrate the temperature correctly, or reduce the temperature by 25 degrees.  Set a timer for the lowest time setting suggested in the recipe.  You are looking for 3 things.  Smell: you should smell the cake, this is your first indication you are nearing the done stage.  Your whole kitchen should be filled with the heavenly scent of baked deliciousness.  Look: the cake should pull away from the sides of the pan slightly.  Touch: lightly press the top of the cake; you're finger should leave the slightest impression in the top.  If all else fails use the toothpick test.  If the toothpick comes out clean it's ready.  (Approx 1½ hours)

Follow this process and any cake will turn out as best as it can possibly be.

The 1976 Brewery Protection Act

A couple of our first trips to the Virgin Islands to charter a sailboat were with my former sister-in-law Deb and her husband Stan.  My mother wasn't real happy about us being friends with a former in-law.  She is all for her family and if you hurt one of them then you are on her black list for a long time. 

Stan and Deb were fun to go with.  A little on the wild side that pushed the limits Carole and I had.  Stan is a great mechanic.  If it is broke he can fix it.  If he has never seen it he can still fix it.  One trip he rebuilt the carburetor on the outboard while bouncing around in the dingy.

We had some great times but Stan was a prankster.  Always pulling something and Carole is so gullible he had lots of fun with her. 

That was back in our serious beer drinking days. For some reason we decided to go down the south side of St John.  There isn't anything along that side of the island and few charter boats went there.  We discovered we were out of beer and headed up into Coral Bay to buy beer.  Coral Bay needs to be on your bucket list.  It is known as the place where people go when they find Key West too restrictive.  Coral Bay has several bars but no grocery stores; they are on the other side of the island.  We are desperate and buy a couple of six packs at bar prices to get us back into St. Thomas.  That hurt to pay those kind of prices but a person has to do what a person has to do.  Or if you are going to be stupid you better be tough.  And now you know where that expression came from. 

When we got back into the harbor the next day and starting packing we found two cases of beer stored behind some stuff in a compartment on the boat.  We are mad, mostly at ourselves for not checking there and for having any beer to enjoy on the way back to the harbor.  There was a case of Budweiser (mine) and a case of Amstel Light (Stan's).  I decide to leave the case of Bud to the dock boys, maybe they will remember us next trip and be extra nice.  Stan says hell no you can't buy Amstel Light at home and am taking it with me.  I think it is a bad idea but if are going to be stupid.... 

Stan and Deb are divers and carry a lot of gear to the islands (well it probably wasn't any more that what is required to keep you alive for 30 minutes under the water).  Part of their dive gear is a big expensive camera that goes in the dive bag.  Stan just puts the beer in the dive bag with all the other stuff and away we go to the airport.  Well you know, just saying, beer isn't weightless.  So the dive bag is over the limit and Stan has to fork out an additional $25. 

At that time St Thomas didn't have a customs office.  The airport was a WWII quasi hut with no A/C but several bars.   (It was really easy back then to sail between islands.  No one cared which country you were in, you were just in the islands.)  All of the flights went thru San Juan and that where customs took place.  Your bags came out on a belt and you picked them up walked thru customs and put them on another belt.  To say the customs guys were lax would be an understatement.  They were able to profile people back then and as long as you look like guy and his wife on a vacation. They left you along.  Now if you had too many gold chains or miss babe was a little too hot looking they went thru your bags from top to bottom.  Carole and I clear with no problems.  Deb come thru in a couple of minutes but no Stan.  Stan is waiting for the dive bag.  All the bags are finally off the belt and no dive bag.  He comes on thru but is worried about the bag.  He says the guy from American Airlines tell him "no problem man" them drunks at St Thomas do it all the time.  Your bag will come on the next flight and the airline will deliver it to your house.  He isn't real happy with that answer.  What if them drunks get his camera and just sell it in Coral Bay.  The camera was expensive and probably past what he could comfortably spend in those days.

The next day I call Deb and ask if she heard anything from the airline.  She says not a word and that camera is beyond what the airline will pay if it is lost. 

It is payback time!

I call my friend Mike Callahan.  Now Mike and my dad are good friends also and I know of the stunts they have pulled on each other. I ask Mike to call Deb and tell her he is a customs agent and give her a hard time about the beer.

So Mike calls and introduces himself as a customs agent in Atlanta.  He asks if she has just returned from a trip and where did she go. Deb has a bubbly personality and she tells him a lot more than he asks for.  He asks if she enjoyed the trip and were the customs agents friendly.  So she tells him how wonderful sailing was in the islands, how beautiful the water is and customs agents were just great.  Then Mike drops the bomb.  "Let's not kid ourselves this is not a courtesy call.  You are in violation of the 1976 Brewery Protection Act.  We have been having a lot of problems with people violating this law and we are going to make examples of violators. You are to appear in Federal Court in Atlanta on August 11th."  You could have a pin drop across the phone line. The bubbly conversation is gone.  All answers were yes sir, no sir, thank you sir. 

Mike calls me and tells me I need to call her and tell her this is a joke because she has freaked out.    It is the first day back at work I am busy and it takes an hour or more before I call.  When I do, the first thing out of her mouth is "Oh my god Robert we are going to prison".  I asked “Why are you in violation of the 1976 Brewery Protection Act? “ She knew she had been had and I got a cussing.  In between the calls she had talked to Stan, they knew they were on the way to prison.  What was going to happen to the kids?  Who would take care of them?  A great trip had become a disaster.  They were scared.  Their life was passing before their eyes. Stan was trying to get in touch with his congressman. 

Paybacks or revenge can be pure hell on you sometimes but the can also be very sweet and make great stories to tell for the rest of your life.