welcome to my mind

Lately, I have been researching good fats and bad fats. I got to thinking about all the oils out there and began wondering what you use each oil for. This led to crisco, which led to shortening, which led to that old song, Shortenin' Bread.

So, for the past few days, shortenin' bread has been swirling around my brain. I began thinking about how old-school and sweet the idea of shortening bread sounds. But that song... ! My god. How disturbing. Here are the lyrics (inserted with what I'm picturing in bold italics):

Shortenin' Bread

Three little children, lying in bed
Two was sick an' the other 'most dead (holy fuck. how disturbing is that? you're lying in bed and one of your siblings is 'most dead' next to you... talk about serious therapy for the rest of your life!)
Sent for the doctor, the doctor said
Give those children some short'nin' bread (what the hell doctor is going to prescribe shortenin' bread? where are the drugs?)

Chorus
Mama's little baby loves short'nin', short'nin'
Mama's little baby loves short'nin' bread,... (×2) (this part is sweet and comforting except, i beg to ask what exactly is shortenin' bread? well, i found out that this song was originally a plantation song and according to wikipedia, these are the ingredients in shortening bread: corn meal, flour, hot water, eggs, baking powder, milk and shortening. It does sound kinda good... comfort food-y; very southern. And considering that this was a plantation song and then adapted in 1915 by someone in Tennessee, it's all clicking into place very nicely.)

Put on the skillet, slip on the lid
Mama's gonna make a little short'nin' bread
That ain't all she's gonna do
Mammy's goin' to make a little coffee too (well, this is a lovely image- mama in the kitchen by the stove making shortening bread and coffee... yum.)

When those children, sick in bed
Heard that talk about short'nin' bread
Popped up well to dance and sing
Skipped around and cut the pigeon wing (what the...?! cut the pigeon's wing!!!??? what kind of devil children are they? first they're sick in bed, then they hear the doctor and the mom talk about shortening bread, mom starts to cook it up for them and they jump to cutting a pigeon's wing? and anyway, how did said pigeon get in their room? maybe the bird had it coming?)

Slipped to the kitchen, slipped up the lid
Filled my pocket full of short'nin' bread
Stole the skillet, stole the lid Stole the gal makin' short'nin' bread (let us make sense of this. at this point, we're talking about another person; a man is breaking and entering, stealing food and kitchenware and kidnapping the children's mother which is actually quite fucking frightening.)

Caught me with the skillet, caught me with the lid
Caught me with the gal makin' short'nin' bread (we're talking the cops, here, buddy, why are you still singing this catchy tune?)

Paid a dollar for the skillet, a dollar for the lid
Spent a year in jail eatin' short'nin' bread (you should have spent longer than a year for kidnapping the mama. and a dollar in the early 1900s... i still think it should have been more money. hope you're getting your comeuppance in prison, dude. you definitely don't go around kidnapping gals!)

Read more: http://toneway.com/songs/shortening-bread#ixzz1kVQG5Iuh



I grew up on these songs and never thought anything of them until I got older and they would still swish around my head. My grandmother used to sing this one to us:

Clap hands, clap hands 'til daddy comes home;
daddy has money and mommy has none! (well, this one was quite accurate for my grandmother's generation, but i certainly won't be singing this to a child ever; it just doesn't hold true anymore.)


When I was little, my mom used to love it when i sang the chorus to Al Jolson's My Mammy:

Oh mammy, my little mammy,
I'd walk a million miles for one of your smiles,
My mammy. (actually, i used to say, 'i'd walk a hunda miles for one of you smiles, my maaaaaaaaammy!' my dad used to make fun of the way i said hundred. come on, i was probably two or three at the most! the weird thing is, i totally remember singing it and my dad teasing me...)



And I also used to love to sing Crystal Gale's Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue with my mom but to be honest, I still don't understand what that song means. She's basically singing about taking a man for granted, feeling remorse and sadness that now he's gone and don't it make my brown eyes blue. I just don't get that one. But I do know that everyone in my family (mostly my aunts) thought that blue eyes were stunningly gorgeous and so I took that to mean that blue eyes were best (i'm so very black and white; as a child and always) and so, to me as a child, I thought Crystal Gale wanted her brown eyes to turn blue because then she'd be more beautiful. Your guess is as good as mine.



One night, and I remember this quite vividly, my parents went out and left my aunt Maria and her good friend, Donna, to babysit us. Maria and Donna brought over ingredients to bake oatmeal cookies and the VHS of Hansel and Gretel. I remember the coziness of baking the cookies with my favorite aunt and her cool friend and then settling down with warm cookies and milk to watch a fairy tale. And remember, this is the 80s; the whole VCR thing is still super exciting and special. Well, that damn fairy tale freaked me the fuck out. This evil old witch lures these kids in with delicious candy and puts them in a cage, attempting to fatten them up so she can EAT THEM?! And then, the kicker is, at the end, the kids escape and boot her fat ass into the oven and slam the door and make a run for it, leaving this old bitch to roast to her death. I was frightened for days upon days. But that's just me. I'm a sensi.

From oil to shortenin' bread to hansel and gretel... my mind sure does jump topics. To tell you the truth, I rather prefer it this way.