A Little Confession Is Good For A Laugh ... 50 Years Later

I grew up on a dairy farm in the country in a small town in Mississippi.  My father had a little store in which he sold staples for the people who worked for him and their families.  He sold things from bologna and cheese (which he sold by the pound and would cut according to whatever the customer wanted) to flour to candy to coca-colas and everything in between.

sorry for the lousy picture -
it was the best one I could find!

One of the items in his store was Crisco.  Now, back in the day, to open the Crisco can you need the key that was fastened to the top of the can. One would take the key off, connect it to the proper point on the can, and then peel off the lid, trying not to cut your hand off in the process. The cans of Crisco in my father's store were big, probably because back then in the South, Crisco was used in everything.

The thought of winding those lids off fascinated me.  And tempted me. I'm not sure why - perhaps it was the most technological thing I could actually get my hands on.  Remember, I grew up getting (at the most) two channels on the television, and those two channels were pretty much off the air after the 10 o'clock news.  I had no idea what a remote control was.  The only telephone was on the wall in the kitchen. Anyhow, at some point, all I could think about was winding those lids off (my father had two cans in the store - a gold mine!).

One day I could take it no longer.  Temptation took over, and when my father was elsewhere, I took the key to the store (the store was kept locked until certain times of the day - like lunch and dinner) and went in.  I took both Crisco cans off the shelf, sat on the floor behind the counter, and unwound both cans. I was probably in a trance, being mesmerized by this action.  Once both lids had been unwound, I disposed of the key and the trail of wound-up tin.  I put the plastic lid (that were to replace the tin lids) on both cans and put them back on the shelf.  I have no idea what my thought process was at that point - obviously I was clearly in Crisco Can-gate Denial. Did I really think no one would notice the protective tin lid was no longer on the can?  Probably ...

Later that evening, my father came into the house.  To say he was livid would be a gross understatement.  He had both cans under his arms, demanding to know who did it, and did they have any idea what that meant, and probably a lot of other statements that I managed to repress into my memory.  And me?  I said I had no idea who did it (at least I didn't blame it on my brother).

Anyhow, I believe we ended up with both cans in the house to be used (which probably was about two weeks).  I never confessed (until now), probably because I felt a jail cell would have been in my future and I would probably be left with only the two cans of Crisco to eat.

I did, however, curb my fascination with keying and winding off the lids of these type of cans.  The fear of death by Crisco can do that do you!

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Today was a great day because:  picking up Molly on her walk then Starbucks then Molly organizing the yard sale crap in the sunroom; Lindley and Lynnette putting away the toys upstairs; getting more rooms cleaned up; Steve and GDiz's safe travel from Columbus to Nashville; dinner at the Barrel with Maribeth, Molly, Mathieu, Everley, Lindley, Lynnette, Steve, and GDiz