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Just a Little Light: Then I Remembered E. P. McKee

By
Dawn Phelps
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0

Dawn Phelps
Columnist

It was a hot, muggy day in Columbia, Tennessee, the town of my birth.  Just rolling down a car window let in a blast of hot air like a furnace that had been turned up to 95 degrees!  

The year was 1983.  I graduated from nursing school that spring and was weary from studying.  For some time, our family of four had looked forward to a trip to Tennessee and other southern states.  Our first stop was in Columbia.

I also wanted to get reacquainted with one of my relatives in Tennessee, my sweet Uncle Jones, a gentle older man bursting at the seams with musical talent.  To hear him play “Darktown Strutter’s Ball” on the piano was a real treat!

I knew that Uncle Jones had lived at a boarding house in Columbia for many years.  I thought I had a general idea where the boarding house was located, but the town was considerably larger than when we were there last.  So, after driving up and down streets, we realized we were lost and needed help.  

My husband Ralph headed the car into the driveway of a very small house to turn around.  There was an older gentleman sitting on the porch.  Before we could back out of his driveway, the gentleman got up from his seat and made his way toward our car.

My husband asked the man if there was a boarding house in the neighborhood.  The man knew where the boarding house was located and gave us precise directions.  But before we went on our way, the man asked, “Would you like a drink of water?”   

We gently tried to decline his offer, but he quickly headed toward his house and went inside.  He soon returned with two glasses of water complete with ice cubes.  The water was offered in glasses that jelly had been sold in.  If you are older, you may have drunk from a “jelly” glass while growing up.

He handed the two glasses to us in the car, turned around, and proceeded back into his house again.  He returned with two more glasses of ice water for our daughters Melody and Misty.  Mmmm, mmmm!  What a wonderful treat on such a stifling hot day!

We were taken aback by such gracious hospitality—true southern hospitality.  We finished our water, returned the glasses, and thanked him more than once.  Before leaving, I asked him, “What is your name?”  

And he replied, “E. P. McKee.”  I liked the sound of his name—E. P. McKee.  

Using Mr. McKee’s directions, we did find my Uncle Jones, and we visited him.  But the memory that stands out most vividly from that hot day was Mr. E. P. McKee’s simple act of kindness that cost him only a few ice cubes, water, and a little energy and time.  

Even this summer, on an especially hot day, when I’m craving a cold, icy drink of water, I still remember that day and how good that drink of water tasted.  The memory is still as crystal clear in my head as my glass of cold water!  

And I remember the friendliness and hospitality of the people of Tennessee with their slower southern drawls and polite “Yes, Ma’ams” and “Yes, Sirs.”  More than likely, by now, Mr. McKee has met his Maker, yet my memory of him remains!  

Sometimes the simplest kindness can leave a lasting impression and memory behind.  Many people in this world could use a smile, a kind word or deed, and something as simple as a cold glass of water.

The Bible says that we if give a cup of water “in my name” it is as “unto Him.”  E. P. McKee willingly gave four glasses of ice-cold water to four thirsty Kansans in 1983, a reminder of what a gift “a cup of water” can be to thirsty travelers. 

Yes, over forty years later, I still remember E. P. McKee and his kind gesture.  I hope he is having a good time in heaven.  And I still like the sound of his name—E. P. McKee!

  

[email protected]

Lettuce Eat Local: A IS for Apple

By
Guest Columnist
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Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local

There are a lot of things you find yourself saying to your children that you never anticipated. Words that we can assume have never been strung together before — except perhaps by other parents — come out of our mouths, spoken appropriately for the situation at hand but also are so weird. What on earth, you wonder, as you shake your head. 

I of course can’t think of many examples right now, but dirty feet and boogers feature prominently as topics. I do have a four-year-old boy, so I shouldn’t type out a lot of the ones I can remember. But most are just random and unexpectedly necessary, like “Why are you kissing that plastic bag?” “Yes, this is dead cow pizza,” “I guess Jesus might have been fatter than that dog,” “Next time don’t put the watermelon down your dress,” and “No, I know Kiah’s head is soft and warm, but we did not take it off and put it in the microwave.” Or of course, the classic “please stop putting ketchup on your ___ (insert any food item or body part here).” 

Lately I’ve been having to tell Kiah with unforeseen regularity that things are not Papa, an apple, or Bob. What? Your brother is not an apple. Papa (Grandpa) is not in the fridge! And who even is this Bob guy? 

She is hilarious, and she knows it, so she knows when she’s being silly. At least I think so most of the time, but sometimes it’s hard to tell. We can’t see what all is going on in her 21-month-old brain, and I’m sure her inferences make sense to her. 

The kids helped me pick “apples” off our plum tree last week, and clearly Kiah wasn’t far off with her designation of the fruit even though she was simultaneously completely wrong. I don’t have any idea where her fascination with Bob came from, but she named her golden retriever stuffie Mav and we go along with it, so really, why shouldn’t she name her little pink chair Bob? [Every time she walks around giggling and calling random things Bob, I have to respond in that annoying voice, “Bob? Bob? I don’t know no Bob!” — any other VeggieTales fans know what I’m talking about?]

I thought Ki hadn’t been listening when I was reading a library book to Benson, but she came tearing over to jab enthusiastically at the page, yelling “Papa!” That one made sense, since the character’s name was Papa Pirate: humorous, too, since it is rare that I compare my father-in-law to a bushy-black-haired seafaring pirate with crazy gold teeth, flowing beard, and glistening sword. It made less sense a few days later in the middle of a completely un-Papa-y book when I had to tell her, “No, Papa is not a dragon,” regardless of her insistence and glee. At least the other people in the store enjoyed hearing me say it. 

As she continues to exercise her growing vocabulary, Kiah will continue to entertain us, I’m sure. Even the way she says all these words is incredibly endearing — I wish you could hear her adorable inflection with apple (ap-pbbbbbul!). I’m biased, I know, but even after all the pirate and dragon talk, so is Papa (and Bob, I can only assume). 

 

A is for Apbbbulsauce Candy

CANDY is of course another of Kiah’s favorite words, so why not call this apple-y snack candy? I saw this unusual recipe in one of my cookbooks from the 70s, and this seemed like a good excuse to make it; I changed a few things, and if I make it again, I’d modify it to use plain gelatin to reduce sugar and dye — but we’ll have to see what Bob says about it first. Appropriately, Kiah declined to try it and wanted an apple instead.

Prep tips: we used strawberry gelatin because that’s what I had, but this could work with a variety of flavors. 

1 cup unsweetened applesauce

1 cup sugar

3 oz strawberry-flavored gelatin [1 standard package]

1 cup finely chopped pecans

Heat applesauce and sugar in a small saucepan; boil for a couple minutes. Remove from heat and dissolve in jello, then stir in pecans. Pour into an 8×8” dish, cover, and chill until set. You’re supposed to be able to cut it into cubes, but it was still soft and sticky for me; so I guess it’s spoon candy? 

Taco Salad Casserole

By
Debbie Dance Uhrig
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Grandma Betty’s Taco Salad Casserole was always a hit when the grand kids came to visit. In typical rural style this easy peasy recipe can be enlarged to feed guests quite easily. Tonight I made a double of the recipe. Most of it traveled, some to our son’s home and another large portion to a friend recouping from surgery.

As I recall mom always had the ingredients on hand to make this casserole in the event of unexpected company. Tonight after doing a double batch I was out of several items in the kitchen.

This week we sold my Ford Flex. Besides cooking a double of this recipe, a double of a fresh vegetable salad, and a dozen cinnamon rolls, we spent the day detailing the car. It’s actually something I enjoy! Tonight the old gal is a tired camper, but I’m ready for a girls road trip tomorrow that will be refreshing and fun. Like many of you, the temperatures dropped and we made haste while the heat wasn’t so intense.

The last time I ran this in a column was 2016. I gave some easy tips to switch this recipe out to a chicken taco casserole. For the pasta perhaps use a penne, cream of chicken soup versus mushroom, maybe pepper jack cheese instead of cheddar, throw in some green chilies and maybe corn and still use the taco seasoning, or make up your own set of spices. Ervin says we should do the chicken later this week simply because I have a great deal of chicken in the deep freeze. We eat beef, but I tend to use chicken more frequently.

This dish will also freeze without much change in structure. Do something fun this week and try something new! Simply yours, The Covered Dish.

Taco Salad Casserole

(Serves 8-10 persons)

1 ½ lbs. Burger, fried, drained

1 cup or more finely chopped onion

12 ounces noodles, cooked and drained, al dente

1 can cream of mushroom soup

15-20 oz Petite tomatoes

1 envelope of taco seasoning

2 cups of shredded cheese at least!

Fry the burger and onion together, draining if necessary-

While the meat is cooking boil the pasta, just until al dente stage.

Drain pasta, and combine meat/onion mixture, tomatoes, mushroom soup and taco seasoning packet. Select baking dish and spray with vegetable oil. Pour in half the casserole mixture and top with half of the cheese. Fill with remaining casserole and then place the rest of the cheese on top. Bake in 350 degree oven until hot and bubbly. Could serve with sour cream and cilantro sprinkled over the top. Add an interesting salad and dinner is served.

Wimpy and the Woodchuck

By
Steve Gilliland
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As a kid growing up in the farm country of central Ohio, my summer income came from the same source as all other farm boys near and far; baling hay! I know I’m aging myself here, but we’re talking pre-round bale days; we’re talking wagon load after wagon load of at least 100 square bales apiece, loaded on wagons pulled behind the baler, taken to the barn, unloaded onto an elevator and stacked into the loft. The farm boys in our neighborhood were the usual ornery, free-spirited lot, but we all knew how to work hard, and come hayin’ time each year we became a necessary commodity to most local farmers. Such was the case with Chester Campbell. “Chet” as he was known, lived across the road from me, and for reasons unknown, didn’t seem to care much for us neighborhood boys. I think the feelings were mutual, but like I said, once his hay was down, his opinion of us changed dramatically.

Ohio has groundhogs like Kansas has coyotes; wherever there is ground there are groundhogs. Groundhogs, best known as woodchucks, look like overgrown prairie dogs, short stumpy tail and all, and can easily grow to weigh ten pounds or more. They have two sharp incisor teeth in the front of their mouth, much like a beaver, and eat all types of green plant life. They dig their burrows in fence rows and woodlots where they can easily sneak out into fields of young growing crops and wreak havoc. Like mini combines they choose a row of tender young soybean plants, straddle the row and eat every plant off to the ground for several feet.

We had a dog named “Silly” who was a groundhog slayin’ machine. Silly knew just how and where to grab them, and would shake them till their teeth rattled. One day we heard a huge ruckus coming from the cornfield by the house. Upon investigation, it was Silly who had caught a groundhog, probably sneaking through the cornfield on its way back to the safety of its den. When the fight was over, Silly was victorious as usual, the groundhog was dead and a patch of corn the size of a pickup was flattened from the fray.

Now old man Campbell also had a dog, sort of a cross between a Beagle and a Bassett, named Wimpy. As I remember Wimpy was a good old dog, just not the “sharpest knife in the drawer,” if you know what I mean. One particular day, about this time of the year, Campbell’s hay was ready to bale, and, as usual, three of us neighbor boys suddenly became handier to him than sliced bread! The hay field was bordered by a creek on one side and by woods on one end, and those borders were riddled with woodchuck dens.

Empty wagons were pulled behind the baler, and when one was loaded, we stopped long enough to unhook the loaded one, hook up to the empty behind us and go again. In the middle of one such exchange, we heard the most awful wailing, screeching and thrashing imaginable coming from the nearby field edge. The three of us ran to investigate and found Wimpy in the weeds with a big groundhog fastened securely to the end of his snout! Around and around they went, the woodchuck showing no intentions of letting go. We all knew better than to try and interrupt the festivities barehanded, so we scrambled to find something to end the brawl and save Wimpy’s snout. The back of all the hay wagons had metal “pockets” welded to them into which wooden racks could be inserted to provide something solid to stack the back row of hay bales against. One wagon happened

to have just single 2×4’s in those pockets, so someone grabbed one and ran back to the brawl. After taking careful aim amidst the ball of thrashing fur, a well placed wallop across the groundhogs back dropped it to the ground and sent it diving for its burrow minus Wimpy, who raced shrieking toward the house. So ended Wimpy’s close encounter with the woodchuck, and I sincerely doubt he ever saw one that close again.

Although I’ve not heard of groundhogs in my neck of the woods, they are in Eastern KS and will probably someday make their way here much like the armadillos have. Each time I go to Hutchinson I marvel at the prairie dog “city” there around the mall, and I think to myself that if our commercial food supply is ever cut off and I want something different than fish or venison, I’ll simply head to the mall with a pellet gun and fill my freezer; I’m sure prairie dog tastes just like chicken…Continue to Explore Kansas Outdoors.

Steve can be contacted by email at [email protected].

Breaking the Silence: Ending the Stigma Around Addiction and Mental Health

By
Guest Columnist
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0

In South Dakota and across the whole United States, addiction and mental health struggles touch every community. Yet far too often, people suffer in silence—not because help isn’t available, but because stigma keeps them from reaching for it.

Stigma shows up in many forms. Its the harmful comments we hear about people who use substances. Its the judgment directed at those struggling with depression, anxiety or trauma. Its even the quiet self-blame people carry, believing they should be able to “ out of it” or that asking for help makes them weak.

Social stigma is deeply embedded in our systems and culture. It can show up in the way medical professionals talk about patients, in media portrayals that dehumanize or in policies that punish rather than support. When people internalize these messages, they may avoid seeking care altogether—also known as label avoidance. They fear being labeled as “” or “” and would rather struggle alone than face the shame and judgment that too often follows disclosure.

This silence can be and is deadly. Addiction is a treatable health condition. Mental health challenges are human, not moral failings. But when stigma gets in the way, it cuts people off from connection, care and healing.

So how do we fight it?

We lead with compassion. We create spaces where people are met with dignity, not dismissal. We challenge our own biases and educate ourselves on the realities of addiction and mental health. We tell the truth: recovery is possible, and people are so much more than their struggles.

At the University of South Dakota, the Department of Addiction Counseling & Prevention is committed to changing the narrative. Our students and faculty work to educate, advocate and care for people across the region—whether in treatment settings, prevention programs or community outreach efforts.

To help make that shift, faculty members in the department are using a grant to provide prevention, harm reduction, treatment and recovery services for those individuals with substance use disorders who are involved with the courts. The $2 million grant will integrate:

· Integrated Peer Support Services: The grant funds peer support specialists to work directly with Drug Court participants, offering lived experience guidance, accountability and recovery support.

· Wraparound Care Model: Emphasizes coordinated care—connecting participants to medical, behavioral health, housing and employment resources.

· Focus on Sustainability: Aims to increase the number of billable services and set up systems for long-term sustainability beyond the grant period.

· Data-Driven Outcomes: Includes metrics for reducing recidivism, increasing treatment engagement and improving participant stability.

We believe that no one should be ashamed to ask for help. Everyone deserves access to care, and everyone deserves to be treated with humanity.

Ending stigma wont happen overnight, but it starts with all of us. We can speak up when we hear harmful language. We can be a listening ear. We can make room for people to show up exactly as they are—and meet them with respect.

Lets be a community where no one has to hide their pain. Lets create a South Dakota where people feel safe to heal.

Melissa Dittberner, or “ Mo” as she is known to her students, is a professor in the Addiction Counseling & Prevention Department at the University of South Dakota. She has a Ph.D. in counseling and psychology in education, masters degree in addiction studies and a bachelors degree in health sciences. She does research on college students substance use, pedagogy, addiction and harm reduction. Not only is she very passionate about drug and alcohol prevention, helping skills and Telehealth technology, she has also worked on many grants surrounding substance use disorders. Dr. Mo is also a certified prevention specialist. In addition to her work at USD, she’s also worked with communities across the state to create addiction prevention programs like Straight Up Care Telehealth and Midwest Street Medicine. Follow The Prairie Doc® at www.prairiedoc.orgYouTube, and Threads. Prairie Doc Programming includes On Call with the Prairie Doc®, a medical Q&A show (most Thursdays at 7pm streaming on Facebook), 2 podcasts, and a Radio program (on SDPB), providing health information based on science, built on trust.

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