Today there was a large oyster roast at the Santee Cooper park alongside part of the old Santee Canal.
There were at least 3,000 folks there enjoying chamber of commerce weather, a brassy ensemble of gray-haired old farts enjoying themselves and making great music,
and unlimited roasted oysters. Cindy and I went...Durelle doesn't do oysters. Cindy doesn't either, but she found a hot dog with her name on it. We planted two lawn chairs in the shade while Cindy went foraging for a bucket of oysters for me. I minimized my walking and limited my activities to people watching. While Cindy was standing in line for my bucket of oysters I snapped a few candids. I hope the unnamed folks don't mind. For most people it wasn't their first rodeo. They came dragging tables, chairs, coolers of drinks and hot sauce and lots of youngsters.
Eventually Cindy returned with the requisite bucket and a big grin.
They were almost all single oysters. There were a couple of twosomes but mostly select, single, plump, sweet oysters.
Needless to say, I was "happier than a clam at an oyster roast". That's not original; it's a Cindy line.
When I got home there was another surprise that helped spawn the title to this blog. I got a C.A.R.E. package (does that date me?) from Alaska. I have a great friend who used to work for me in Alaska in the early sixties. The phrase "work for me" requires a bit of explanation. Since he was an E-9 and I was an O-2, It will be pretty clear to most readers who worked for whom. The package contained cans of barbecued red salmon, and kippered king salmon. In addition there was nearly a yard of Andouille sausage that I believe was made from moose meat. Thanks, Buck, I look forward to sampling it all.
Buck was an old-time Alaskan when we got there in 1963, and he's still there in Kenai, Alaska today. Buck was a mentor before I knew what the word meant. His subtle advice and friendship were appreciated then and still are today. Thanks, Buck.