The Mrs and I both work for a school district in rural Kansas. We get Good Friday off. I was surprised at this when it first came up. I asked my boss, “isn’t that a bit churchy for school?” He said “Yup, it is, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” OK then.
When I started working there, I must admit to being a bit jaded, at life in general, really. We’ve seen and talked to all sorts of people. You get the drift of an area in pretty short order. For the most part, the people of small towns or rural areas, are the bed rock of this country. They obey the laws, go to work, go to church, don’t complain, much, and most would go out of their way to help you if you need it. The larger the town, the less civic minded the citizens are. Sure, there are good people in larger towns and cities, but the whole trust in God thing is a bit tattered. Having said that, most school districts in Kansas, large and small, get Good Friday off. Good people in Kansas.
The wife and I grew up as Lutherans, and while Lutherans don’t really have dietary restrictions, Lent and the lead up to Easter quite often have voluntary meatless Fridays. I think the Lutherans were just a bit jealous of the Catholics and all their rules and regs of living, so they just kind of borrowed the meatless Friday thing. Not everybody did it and even the pious get roped into killer prime rib Friday deals, they just don’t talk about it.
The Mrs loves to cook and since she did time in California, she tends to have a few strange ideas on cooking. One of my rules for living is, if you live in the center of the continent, order beef. She claims the rules are just too rigid to live by, and gets shrimp and seafood with great regularity. The packages always claim FRESH, but I didn’t charter a jet plane to fly me things from the coast as soon as they were jerked out of the water, so I am a bit dubious. She asks me “How about some salmon for Good Friday? “Yes dear” is the correct response, I’ve been told. So she whips up some pan fried salmon, leftover mashed potatoes that get made into some kind of Polish pancake, and peas, ’cause the green goes good with the orange of the fish. Oh and gravy, because if you got mashed potatoes, I don’t even care it they get turned into ethnic pancakes, you put gravy on them. That was my meal.
For her, I see kale getting fried, the whole green and orange deal again, plus some hominy and other stuff, along with the fish, and the gravy. Sometimes all I can do, is raise my wine glass to her and celebrate our differences.
The gravy on salmon worked out OK. Kinda like a mildly uptight, small town Minnesota boy meets a California via Minnesota hippy chick. It worked out OK. Thanks for getting us together Reflection Farm, and happy Good Friday.