The Gracious Mistress of Parsonage and Yours Truly have an agreement as ironclad as any legal document in world court. Simply put, contract is as follows: I will eat broccoli when she eats liver. I'm on pretty good ground here because I know she abhors liver and will not allow me bringing it into our domicile in any form.
In fact, if I consume any liver I'm sometimes not allowed home until it has completely gone through my system, which can take up to three days depending on my physical condition at time.
With this in mind, I had a vicious attack of liveritis last week and needed a fix of nicely fried chicken livers. Whenever such a malady assaults me, there is only one thing for me to do, and I know what it is.
I head for Slurp ‘N Burp Café. Nobody puts together a mess of chicken livers as tender and juicy as Slurp ‘N Burp. Whenever I can escape Misses' notice, I slip away and enjoy a plate of these delightful delicacies that just melt in my mouth.
Last Thursday I set out to gratify my craving when an incredible thing happened.
About halfway through a plate of most delicious chicken livers this side of Marriage Supper of Lamb, a man walked into restaurant.
I simply could not believe my eyes. He was spitting image of a friend of mine. The trouble was, my friend died a little over a year ago and this man could have passed for his twin.
Someone said everyone has a double somewhere and I was a believer; at least in this case.
As this man walked by, I nodded and he touched his finger to his hat — same way my friend use to. It was one of those uncanny moments you never forget. A rush of memories flooded my mind as I thought of my old friend. He was original Florida Cracker if there ever was one.
His family moved to Miami in 1920 when he was six years old. It was a different Florida in those days, as he often reminded me.
He was an outdoorsman to end. As a young lad, he and his family would camp in wild Florida swamps and live off land. Not like people do today in luxurious RVs, with all latest conveniences; hot showers, color TV and a fully stocked kitchen.
No siree. My friend lived off land. They ate what they caught with rod or shot with gun, cooking it over an open campfire, "The way Good Lord fully intended," he would say as he remembered those days.
In trunk of his car, he always had his fishing gear for, "Ya never know when urge to go fishin' will come on and it's always best to be prepared." He was a Boy Scout and as such was fully prepared for any eventuality.