Newspaper Page Text
PAGE 6A
BARROW NEWS-JOURNAL
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2016
John T. Edge
OXFORD, Miss. — John T. Edge,
a son of Jones County, Georgia, with
three-fourths of a degree from the Uni
versity of Georgia, is a man in his
heyday (his salad days are here and
now) when it comes to the kitchen and
knowledge of food — from
barbecue and pickled pigs feet
to big, bad breakfasts to clas
sic restaurant fare across the
country.
Proprietors of fine din
ing establishments would be
delighted to comp his dinner
if they knew he was “acom-
in’” to write a review for Gar
den and Gun with which he
is attached as a contributing
editor.
His story has something
to do with rebounding after
falling into an abyss of intellectual
inaction, understanding that in finding
his direction in life, his unsettled days
exposed nothing miscreant or dysfunc
tional. Just didn’t know what he want
ed to do. He was hiding his light under
a bushel, however.
At Georgia, he and his friends joy
fully trekked to Sanford Stadium to see
Herschel run. He can close his eyes,
allow his mind’s eye to reflect: “Omi-
god, Herschel is running over people.”
He can see the play that matches up
with that Larry Munson call. He can
see No. 34 cavorting in Sanford Sta
dium on Saturday afternoon, a “man
among boys.” John T. was emotionally
stimulated in those scenes between the
hedges and thought life was grand. Just
never thought about a career.
John T. was not an exemplary student,
but he wasn’t a lost ball in high weeds
either. He overtly enjoyed his time
in Athens. He ate at the Mayflower,
Strickland’s and the Varsity. “With
a snootful, I often went to Blanche’s”
where he learned to appreciate goat
meat omelets. He is indebted to Her
schel and Vince Dooley for creating
the opportunity for him to follow the
‘Dawgs to New Orleans for the Sugar
Bowl in the early eighties. There
he indulged himself with abandon at
Felix’s where he lost count of how
many oysters he had consumed when
the check came.
Perfunctory strolls through the French
Quarter, this low budget college kid
couldn’t afford Gallitore’s, Antoine’s,
Brennan’s, and the multiplicity of other
fashionable dining emporiums back
then. Today his is a household name
among the great chefs who are staples
of those kind of places.
But, let him say this about that. He
reserves high praise for the high end
restaurants of America. However, he
probably knows more about the foods
from whence it all came. For exam
ple, the history of how shrimp and grits
came about. The poor and enslaved on
our coasts had to make do to survive.
Shrimp from the sea were plentiful—
hard work with a net brought this
food staple to the kitchen. Grits made
from corn, about the cheap
est food there is, was married
up with the shrimp and before
you knew it, big city chefs had
confiscated the recipes from
the common folk on the coasts
along the Atlantic seaboard and
made big money out of what
was once a means of survival
for the working class.
In the by and by, John T.
dropped out of UGA and “wan
dered in the wilderness” for a
decade before settling down in
the charming town that is home
to Ole Miss. He tacked on the hours
needed for a degree he “almost” got
at Georgia. Then, he added a Masters.
Then he organized the “Southern
Foodways Alliance” at Ole Miss and
throughout the year you can join him
and other foodies and culinary experts
to get brought up to date on what the
latest is in “cooking.” It was an idea of
a symposium on Southern food, which
has become the rage of chefs across the
country.
His next book (he has written seven)
will be the “Potlikker Papers.” There
will be history, fun facts and lore.
Scheduled to come out in May, his
publisher won’t let him talk too much
in advance, since they haven’t even
written the seduction verbiage for the
jacket cover.
Georgia remains indelibly on his
mind. He is proud of his heritage,
hailing from Middle Georgia. (He and
singer Otis Redding are Jones County’s
two most famous natives whose work
has connected with national audiences.)
In a long conversation with him in
Oxford recently, he revealed he still
has affection for his roots. He returns
to Athens a couple times a year to teach
at the Henry Grady College of Jour
nalism. He speaks up for those who
sometimes resort to junk food, offering
this disclaimer. Not all fast food is
junk food. Varsity food is fast, but it is
not junk food, he says.
If you are like me, you can’t wait to
read John T.’s next illuminating piece
in Garden and Gun and his forthcom
ing book. Unfortunately, I know more
about the latter than I can let on. Out
of respect to the publisher, we all have
to wait, but next spring, we surely will
conclude that “the wait was worth it.”
Loran Smith is a columnist for the
Barrow News-Journal. He is co-host
host of the University of Georgia foot
ball radio pre-game show.
loran
smith
Random Rants in Rhyme
Chicago Bears Israeli Quarterback
There is a story I heard somewhere
about the quarterback for the Chicago Bears.
Their coach thought he had the perfect team,
except the quarterback did not fit his scheme.
His tall trio of fierce linebackers
were fast and furious, aggressive tacklers.
His defensive line would often sack
and always hurry the quarterback.
His comerbacks/safeties were tall and quick
and, in almost every game, delivered a pick-six.
His offensive line could open a hole
through which a Sherman tank could roll.
He had a tandem of power running backs
who could hit that hole in a whip’s crack.
The problem was that his quarterback
was a run-of-the-mill, ordinary hack.
The coach took a trip to Israel
and saw Israeli troops engaged in a battle.
Abel took a grenade from his belt or pocket
and threw it 70 yards like a screaming rocket.
The coach was amazed as he watched it go
right through the center of a four foot window.
The coach watched a second one float and drop
fifty yards away through a chimney top.
He could not believe the ten yard throw with power
through the window of a car going 50 miles an hour.
The coach pulled some strings and brought Abel to Chicago,
where he won the Super Bowl, (now wouldn’t you know?)
He phoned his mother, said, “Mama this is Abel.”
“Don’t call me ‘Mama’,” his mother yelled.
“But, ‘Mama,’ just listen! I won the Super Bowl!”
“Don’t call me ‘Mama’,” his mother yet would scold.
“I will never forgive you for what you have done.
They attacked — nearly killed — my other two sons.
Your sister fears rape if she goes outside,
and I just heard gunshots— perhaps someone died.
I will never forgive you — yes — I want you to know —
I will never forgive you for making us move to Chicago.
© 2016, cbs
skelton
El corazon de Jesus
siempre esta contigo
I know I usually pick a political topic
of the week to write about, but I have
needed a temporary break from
that in order to deal with a very
personal loss.
With the heaviest heart, I write
this article in memoriam of my
dearest memory, Johnny Lozano.
By the time you pick up your
paper and read my column, he
will have been gone two long
weeks, and it’s only the beginning
of learning how to live without
him again.
Many people got to know John
ny’s radiant smile and feel the
peaceful presence he would bring to a
room, but I was one of the few who got
to know his heart, and what an amazing
one he had.
Johnny was my high school and col
lege sweetheart. We spent five great
years together where we shared love,
smiles, tears, passion, and some heart
break. When we broke up six years ago,
I was determined to let him go so that
he could be happy. I didn’t ever want
for him to meet the tragic fate that he
ultimately came to meet. He deserved so
much better than what he got.
Shortly after Johnny and I broke up
he became a father to such a beautiful
little girl who would inherit his radiant
smile. He would love her more than he
would his own life, and fighting to be
with her is ultimately what brought him
to his moment of weakness. My heart
breaks for her knowing she will have
to grow up without her dad, especially
knowing how in love Johnny was with
his daughter.
The limited rights fathers have to their
children in broken homes is ultimately
what broke Johnny, and this is some
thing I’ve seen many times with a lot of
single fathers. By no means should his
death be politicized, whether by the rea
son or the matter in which he died, but it
should drive us to try to prevent taking
good fathers away from their children,
as no child would ever benefit from los
ing a father such as Johnny.
I think it’s also worth telling the
world how much Johnny loved to help
others. He dedicated many summers to
lifeguarding, and worked as a
camp counselor with kids. He
also had always aspired to be
a police officer, and spent a
short time on the police force
himself in Valdosta — at least
until he became familiar with
the politics that accompanied
the job. This wasn’t a man who
knew how to initiate violence
against another human being,
but rather a man who had lost
all hope of living outside of
destructive relationship cycles.
He wanted peace, and he didn’t know
how to escape to find it.
The written title of this article is from
a sticker Johnny used to keep on his
dashboard throughout high school. It
reads “The heart of Jesus is always with
you.” If there is one thing I remember
most about Johnny, it is how much he
loved his God, and how seeing His face
was always something Johnny spoke of
with longing. He was never afraid to die,
only afraid of being without those whom
he loved. (And, of course, his legos...)
I want to publicly thank Phi Sigma
Kappa founders of Valdosta State Uni
versity, especially Ernie Prencke, for
starting up a college fund for Johnny’s
daughter, as well as praise Johnny’s
brother, Jorge, for demonstrating such
strength and grace through this difficult
time. My heart, although broken, is cry
ing for your family.
I want the world to know what a beau
tiful soul Johnny is, and what an amaz
ing person he was. We are truly blessed
to have had him, and it is a great loss to
lose him.
I don’t know how my life would be if
Johnny had never come into it, nor do I
know what it will be like without him. I
just know it will be emptier. Rest peace
fully, my love.
You’re home now.
Jessica Swords is a local columnist.
She can be reached at jlswordsl998@
aol.com.
jessica
swords
JESSICA AND JOHNNY
Letter to the Editor
A sorry choice
Dear Editor:
Imagine that you go to a restaurant
hungry and it is the only restaurant
that is open. You are seated, and the wait
er comes over to take your order.
“We have two entrees this evening
fish, and chicken. Now, I should tell you
that the fish is spoiled and has a foul odor.
The chicken also is spoiled and has salmo
nella poisoning.”
“What?” I replied with astonishment.
“But, neither of those sound appealing to
me. I would like a filet mignon, cooked
medium rare.”
“I’m sorry. There are only the two
entrees I mentioned the fish or the
chicken”
“But I don’t like either of those choices!
Well, what are the side dishes with each?”
“The side with the fish is a very nice
baked sweet potato, garnished with butter,
brown sugar, and cinnamon. The side
with the chicken is a partially cooked
rutabaga with e coli.”
“Hum, what about dessert?”
“Well, the fish comes with a tasty apple
pie a la mode, which you will be eating for
your dessert for the next forty years. The
chicken comes with spoiled grapes, also
with food poisoning which you will
also eat for the next forty years.”
What to do??? I was hungry, there was
no where else to eat and no other
choices except those presented by the
waiter
So, I held my nose and ordered the fish.
Hope and pray I made the right decision.
Sincerely,
Faye Burnette
Winder