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And so on...
Prince Charming
I have always wondered what happen
ed to love. You know, the real kind. The
kind of love you dream of finding when
you grow up. (Which actually has no set
age.) The head-over-heels love. Ro
mance. The run-in with Prince Charming
himself.
Like so many others, for so long I
searched, and I waited, but no Prince. A
girl can be expected to wait just so long! I
found myself on the verge of giving
up--not on men altogether, but on love
itself. I decided that my Prince must
have gotten sidetracked somewhere
along the way, and was not going to
show. Just when I was ready to throw my
hands up in the air, and prodaim, “I give
up,” something happened . . .
My Prince Charming rode into town,
my town. My Prince Charming was
riding his white horse, wearing his
shining armour. The Prince was really
Steven, not at all an exotic name. His
white horse was really a 1979 gray, not
silver. Ford Mustang, and his shining
armor was really a slightly faded pair of
Levi jeans, and a tee shirt. All in
disguise.
It didn’t take him long before he swept
me off my feet, and placed me on his
white horse behind him. W e rode off into
the sunset, of time.
As time went on, I realized something
was different. It didn’t take me long to
realize that I was in love. This time it was
for certain. I had loved' before, but not
like this. I fell, head over heels for this
guy, and I haven’t gotten up yet, or even
cared to tiy to get up. I have found that
one special person with whom I could
share real love, and who, in return, would
share it with me. (That always makes a
difference.) My Prince Charming!
Steven has the rare ability to make me
laugh at times when I feel more like
crying. He can make me laugh while I am
crying! He does this, not by force, but by
using his oveipowedng personality. The
love we share consists of some very small
words which have very big meanings;
honesty, trust, respect, and happiness. I
found myself unafraid, for the first time
in my life, to open up and share all those
tucked away feelings, hopes, dreams.
and fears that I was once so close to
burying inside myself forever. Deep
enough where no one else could ever find
them, even if they did try.
W e indulge in late night talks and time
spent together, lit gently by the moon-
liglit. We treasure privacy, yet don’t
mind sharing it with cridcets and baby
rabbits. We notice the beauty of sunlight
flickering through tree branches, and the
way dew drops rest gently on the petals of
wild flowers. We treasure glossy
photographs of time spent together, time
spent apart, and the smiles, and thoughts
behind them aU. He is so sentimental.
And the sweetest man I have ever known.
He does so many things that most men
think women no longer care about in this
“liberated world.” (Some of us still do
care about the little things.)
He gave me his class ring, and his
senior key. I still remember how tickled I
used to get when I would glance down
and see that size eight ring on my size
five finger. I didn’t mind the bulk, or the
extra weight. Sure, I had been given a
class ring before, but this one meant
something. I always said I would not take
the ring off, except for the future. In
time, I did take it off, for the future.
He asked me to marry him. Sometimes
I feel like I am sixteen years old again. I
find myself being so excited about going
out with him that I sometimes get ready
to go out with him as eariy as four hours
before the time we set. I did do that a
couple of times, yet I wouldn’t dare ever
tell him. I will never forget the feeling I
had the first time a friend walked up to
me and said, “You must be in love, you
have stars in your eyes.”
I love to sit and watdi the sunsets fade
into darimess. I wish clouds were made
to play on-they look so soft and fluffy,
like cotton candy. Steven remembers all
of the little things, all the little things that
count-he opens the car door for me, not
sometimes, but all of the time. The air is
constant with the aroma of cologne. His
musk, and mine heaven sent (He gave it
to me). He also gave me one of his tee
shirts, I sleep in it every night. (The sight
of it is even funnier than the sight of his
class ring!)
When we gaze mto each other’s eyes,
there is no need for words. I learned a
long time ago that sometimes silence
say more than words. When I am with
him, I feel like something unreal could
happen. I ejq)ect the stars to bend down
from the heavens, push our hair aside,
and gently kiss us on our foreheads. The
protection I experience from his hugs
gives me the feeling that cellophane must
give that of a bright red lollipop, tight,
warm, and so comforting. It is unreal.
No, it is not. It’s love. We look for
weeping willow trees, and ponds. He
once surprised me with a hand full of
freshly picked wild red rose buds, thorns
and all. I kept them in water until the
very last silky petal on the very last stem,
gently let go. I never treasured
something so mudi in my whole life. I
used to think that moths were butterflies.
He taught me the difference. I still
remember the first time he kissed me. I
thought I would die. I knew exactly how
an ice cream feels in the hand of a small
boy standing in direct sunlight. He takes
me with him on Sunday picnics with the
family. ’They treat me like family. He
does not pretend to be someone he is not.
He has a mind of his own and he uses it.
He taught me to do that. It is a real
talent. I am so proud to be with him. No,
of course he is not perfect. But seeing a
person’s faults, and accepting them,
instead of overlooking them, is a very
important part of love.
Steven is alot like my daddy. W e hold
pinkies, and he rides me piggy back-just
like you see in the movies. Words alone
can not express the way he makes me
feel. I keep souvenirs of memories, and
merories of souvenirs. (When you are in
love, you know what that means.) He has
the cutest dimple centered perfectly in
his chin. It is deep, and when he smiles,
it smiles. Steve in someone I can really
count on. He is always there, even
though not in reality. He is someone I
can always count on to say how he feels,
and what he thinks. (Even if I don’t like
what I hear, I know he means it.) He
scolds me when I need it, yet gives me
the freedom to make my own decisions,
and to make up my own mind about
by Jenny May
things. This makes sudi a difference. He
cares. He cares so much. He knows
exactly what to say, and when to say it.
And when just to listen. (Which is
sometimes the very best of medicines.)
His smile is so warm it could roast
marshmellows. We cherish each other.
We also cherish our friends. “Friends
are priceless, but only if you have the
right kind,” (Words from my mother).
I have realized, from e:q)erience, that
men will be more like men, if we women,
will be more like women. Time does
make the heart grow fonder, and when it
rains, there are rainbows. You simply
have to look for them. Steven and I have
a special meaning to the words forever
and ever. W e mean them.
I often wish I could meet the person
who once said, “nothing is forever,” and
introduce him to the person who once
said, “love is everlasting.”
Now don’t get me wrong. Just because
we share these things, doesn’t automat
ically mean we are in love. We feel
something. We feel something in our
hearts. We feel something special.
Something warm and gentle. Something
I have never felt before. Sure, we have
disagreements, and quarrels. We are
human. But we do believe in the words I
am sorry, and forgiveness. “life is too
short to have and hold hard feeling,”
(again, words from my mother).
Steve has made what were once
dreams, reality. And what were once
hopes, truth. There is nothing more I
could wish for. Well, except for one
thing. I wish I could find a way to bottle
and tightly seal the happiness he has
given me, and sell it to others, FOR
FREE, who are still wondering if their
Prince Charming, really does exist, and if
he is worth waiting for.
For those of you who are thinking to
give up, please don’t. He does exist, and
he is worth waiting for. You simply have
to wait for him to ride into town. Sure, it
is a long wait, but after all it is a long
journey.
It does not cost a thing to love. And
love, does not cost a thing. Think about
that...
Cookin’
Country
by Marlene Berry
In pioneer days, the people would
preserve the meat they caught by either
smoking it or using salt on it. "niis caused
the meat to be tough. When it was tme
to cook this tough meat, it had to have
vinegar put on it to soften it up. Every
piece of the meat was used and none of it
was wasted because it was too precious.
This is why the pioneer women fixed a lot
of stews.
MOUNTAIN STEW
1 stewing chicken
2 cups diced potatoes
2 cups sliced onions
2 cups com
2 cups butterbeans (limas)
2 cups tomatoes
1 tablespoon butter
tablespoon salt, pepper
1 cup bread crumbs
(^uirrel or rabbit is excellent in place
of the chicken.) Stew meat until tender.
Remove bones. Add vegetables to meat,
seasonings; cook until vegetables are
done. Add butter and bread crumbs to
thicken. Serve hot. (Add water if
necessary.)
BAKED APPLES
Core the center of 4 ^ples, then peel
each apple about one third of the way
down, ^ce filling inside of eadi apple.
Put each apple on a square of aluminum
foil and pull the foil up around the apple
and twist the top to seal. Can be cooked
in a Dutch oven, relector oven or a can
oven. Cook 45-60 minutes until tender.
Fillings
No. 1:
1 pkg. red hots.
No. 2:
brown sugar
marshmallows
No. 3:
brown sugar
cinnamon
butter ^
nuts or raisins
HOTCHOCOLA’TE
WITH A LATIN BEAT
When the night is frosty, heat things
up with this delicious, fragrant brew
inspired south-of-the-border. Based on
that old favorite, Hershey’s unsweetened
cocoa, Brazilian Hot Chocolate is a snap
to make. Flavor is rich and super-
diocolatey, with a tantalizing touch of
modia. Ole!
BRAZILIAN HOT CHOCOLATE
% cup Hershey’s unsweetened cocoa
y* cup sugar
1 tablespoon instant coffee granules
teaspoon ground cinnamon
Vsteaspoon salt
% cup hot tap water
3% cups milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Combine cocoa, sugar, coffee, cinna
mon and salt in saucepan. Blend in hot
water. Bring to boil over medium heat,
stirring constantly. Then boil, still
stirring, for 2 minutes. Add milk and
heat, stirring, to serving temperature.
Do not boil. Beat in vanilla with rotary
beater or spoon, to create a foamy
surface. Serve immediately, in heatproof
mugs. Makes 6 servings.